At first light next morning, Callan finished crafting a set of steps on the outside of the tower that were close enough even the lud could scramble up and down with little trouble. Between these and the addition of a small parapet around the top, the tower almost had an intentional look about it.
He also spent some time working on a drain system into the tower. It wouldn’t do for weary travelers to seek shelter there only to find the inside full of rainwater.
Kivi watched him put on the final touches with a critical eye, then finally nodded. “It is a good first attempt. We can work on refining the process with the next one.”
“Gee, thanks, High Priestess. It isn’t like we built this one under extreme duress or anything.”
I think it’s impressive that you managed anything at all given your current skill level with Shape Stone, Xeph noted. Perhaps with the additional faith gained from this yeth town, the process will not need to be burdened with hours of waiting.
“Here’s to hoping. But that only will do us any good after we get more followers.”
They traced their way through the now rather bare plateau to where their camp had been. As Callan studied the limbless trees that dotted the landscape, he shook his head.
“How in the world did your village survive this on the regular? How does anything on these plateaus manage, for that matter?”
“What we experienced last night is not a regular occurrence, even for the Badlands, Avatar,” Paeral told him. “Besides, this is a much smaller plateau. It would take the Emperor itself to flood the Tokash. Even then, we could always have sought refuge in the boughs of the pythian. There is a reason our village has endured for so many generations.”
“You should not joke about such things as the Emperor moon,” Kivi said, visibly shuddering.
“Of course, High Priestess. I was only trying to reassure the avatar. In any case, It is true that life is difficult for most here. I expect other villages on other plateaus have developed methods for staying safe, though I could not say what those might be.”
“Huh. Guess there’s a reason they call this place the Badlands,” Callan said. The lud all nodded somberly.
They managed to locate their previous night’s camp due to a surprising windfall. Somehow, against all odds, Callan’s tent had survived the waves and flood.
To be fair, it looked like a drowned rat pulled from the river, with the material lying in a flat and soggy mess, but the stakes had held. Callan reached through the flaps and sifted about, coming back with his bedroll. It smelled of seawater and was covered in bits of debris.
“We can salvage that,” Kivi said over his shoulder. She took it from him and began wringing out a small puddle at their feet.
Reaching back inside, Callan came back with his travel sack. The knot at the top was still tightly sealed. Even tighter than before, actually, thanks to the water.
He worked the knot for a bit before finally giving up and cutting it loose. Out dumped his extra clothes—soaked through, of course—several waterlogged emergency rations, a canteen, and most importantly, their secret weapon for Aos.
“Talk about a welcome sight,” he said, holding it up to show Kivi. “Would have sucked major balls if we had to turn around and go all the way back just because we lost this.”
And you chastised me for openly discussing sexual proclivities yesterday, Xeph grumbled.
“I wasn’t—that’s not what—dude, are you messing with me, or have you seriously never heard a euphemism before?”
If you don’t know, I’m certainly not going to tell you. There was a definite note of mischief in the god’s voice. Callan rolled his eyes.
While the lud worked at emptying out bits of seaweed and other flotsam from inside his tent, he repacked his bedroll and secured it once again to his pack. The thing probably weighed twice as much as before, but with his elevated Brawn that was no great encumbrance.
“We can dry all of it the rest of the way tonight,” Kivi said, as she finished packing up the tent. “But if we wish that to happen, we had best move on. I do not think any of us wish to still be on this plateau come tonight’s moonrise.”
With that sobering statement, they made rapid time towards the plateau’s edge. As Kivi had predicted, they found the remnants of a rope bridge, a few tattered strands still dangling from the far side.
“Do you know a way down and over?” Callan asked.
“Not exactly. But Silfia showed me the signs to look for.”
It took ten minutes of searching before Sworv managed to turn something up. Cut into the side of the cliff were several pockets that were just big enough to allow someone to clamber down. Callan peered past the cuts to where the canyon floor lay some hundred or so feet below.
"If any of these handholds are even mildly slick or filled with crabs, we’re going to die.”
“Do not be so melodramatic, Avatar, I’m sure between all of us, a bit of quick work with Shape Stone should prevent any major accidents. Besides, I’ve never heard of a crab that could fit into a hole that small.”
Choosing not to pursue that particularly worrisome statement, Callan watched the lud girl test out the first few rungs before following. The two older priests scrambled after him.
The climb was long, stressful, and ultimately uneventful. Soon they reached the floor of the canyon, which was an absolute mess of flotsam, broken tree branches, and pools of saltwater brimming with life.
Callan paused to watch a creature that looked like a moon jellyfish but was no bigger than his thumb jet its way from one side of a pool to the other. It eventually hid under a branch that lay half-in, half-out of the water.
“I still can’t believe this place can handle tides like that on the regular,” he said, more to himself than anyone present. Which was silly. Because there was always at least one other person present.
Well, maybe person wasn’t the right word.
Ultimately, they can’t, the god said matter-of-factly. Callan frowned as he crossed to the other side of the pool.
“Why is that?”
Tidal shifts like last night are typically rare, though less rare here than they are further to the north. If they remain rare enough, a plateau has time to recover. But if they occur more frequently, the repeated tides will eventually wash away too much of the top-lying soil. The trees will absorb more salt than they can excrete. Then, nothing will be left here but barren rock. Eventually the tides will wash even that away, too.
For some reason, the thought filled Callan with sadness. “I suppose you’ve lived long enough to see that happen a time or two.”
Perhaps. The god sounded troubled, and remained silent for some time after that.
Finding their path up to the next plateau was a much faster process, and soon the four of them had ascended with little trouble. Callan was greeted once again to lush plant life and shady trees for hiding from the increasing heat. It appeared that this plateau had escaped last night’s tide unscathed.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Soon after, they located the path where it continued on from the remnants of the bridge. Kivi gazed a moment out into the canyon before turning and setting off, Callan and the others following. “We should be able to follow this road for the rest of the morning. I would have liked to have made it to the next plateau before nightfall, but given our new plans, we will need to remain here tonight.”
“There’s a farming community on this plateau, I take it?” Callan asked.
“Several, actually, most of which have pledged their support to Xeph’s cause already. None here enjoyed paying tithes every time one of Zavastu’s caravan passed this way.”
“Shouldn’t we stop at all of them, then? If nothing else, I’d like to say hello.”
“Perhaps. But most are deeper inland and are not in need of our... newest service. The last, however, I hope may prove receptive.”
Leaving it at that, they set off. The sun slowly arced across the sky while Callan and his priesthood followed the road as it wound its way across the plateau.
They did indeed stop at several farms along the way. All of them were small affairs, only a half-dozen houses at most, usually built within a wooden palisade and with several fields surrounding.
The farmers who made up these holds were an eclectic bunch. One was comprised entirely of veloom, all with the same red-green feather patterns, while another contained three lilish families with differing colors of rubbery shark skin. No yeth or lud, though.
That surprised Callan as much as it disappointed him. Given that a lud village lay at one end of this trail and a yeth village at the other, he’d expected the farmsteads to be comprised mostly of those two races. It seemed, however, that these were mostly families who simply fit in nowhere else.
“Do different races not live together in this—in Urslang?” he asked at one point. The two older priests looked at him curiously, and Callan felt his face flush. Perhaps he should have saved that question to ask Kivi in private, but it had been on his tongue all morning, and managed to slip out shortly after they left the last farm.
“I do not know of any explicit rule against it, avatar,” Kivi said, after glaring at the two other priests to the point they hurried on ahead to ‘scout the trail’. Callan almost laughed despite everything. “But it is true that many of the elevated races feel more comfortable with their own kind. I’m sure there are some practical reasons for this, though I can only speak of the more cultural ones. For instance, lud are generally disliked by the other races, which is why we tend to keep to our own communities.”
You’ll find less homogeny in larger communities, Xeph added. People tend to care less about such things once there are sufficient numbers. Some cities may maintain specific districts for certain races, but even in my time this was rare.
“Okay, so then why are so many of these families living out here alone? Wouldn’t it be better to be closer to a town?”
Callan was thinking of the cult, primarily, but also for more mundane reasons as well. Towns meant sharing resources, divisions of labor, specializations. It took a special kind of person to want to live so far away that they had to handle every little task in their daily life on their own.
Hmm. The Badlands have always been a refuge for those who sought solace from the more populous areas of the north. If I had to guess, many of these families consider isolation a fair trade for being in control of their fate. I can only speculate, of course.
“I guess that makes sense. Though I don’t know how much control counts for when it comes to setting your own bones or rebuilding after a disaster.”
“There are other reasons many of these families might choose to dwell apart,” Kivi noted. She was following the conversation fairly well for someone who could only hear half of it. “Many may not enjoy the restrictions and requirements placed upon them by those that control those towns.”
“Speaking about your own village again?”
The lud girl frowned, but still nodded her head. “It is true that any who wished to join our community would have to submit themselves to living as Daisa, but in this instance I was referring to other communities. Aos, specifically.”
Callan glanced at her. “Something I need to know about?”
“No, Avatar. Likely it is better for you to see the situation yourself. Even when my master explained it to me before our first visit, I didn’t fully understand until I spent time there.”
The conversation stalled after that, and for most of the afternoon they worked their way through the woods in silence. After leaving the main road—an overly generous term, in Callan’s opinion—they followed a track that was little more than a game trail. Whatever traffic using this route appeared to be minimal.
When the sun was about an hour away from the horizon, they emerged from the thicket and found themselves on a small hill overlooking a plain of waving grass. In the distance, smoke rose from the chimney of a farmhouse. Its lower level sat several feet off the ground, the first Callan had seen like that so far. He’d sort of assumed that most of the buildings on this plateau would have similar precautions.
Then again, the plateau had been gently sloping downward for some time. Maybe there was just enough of a difference below.
Callan also spied a protective wall around the farmstead, though this one had more the appearance of a retention wall than a palisade. Rough stones had been placed atop one another until they reached close to chest height, but there was nothing to stop an animal from simply leaping over it.
Perhaps nothing as intimidating as a dvorak lived on this plateau. Still, after the last few farms, Callan couldn’t help but find the appearance curious.
As they approached an opening through the wall that led to the farmhouse proper, a rather human-looking man intercepted them. He leaned against the arch, watching them warily. From the house behind a woman emerged, carrying a small babe in her arms.
“Greetings, Restaro,” Kivi said, once they’d drawn a bit closer. She gave a short bow, which the farmer returned.
Callan studied the man, wondering if this was one of the yeth he’d heard so much about. He tried to count his fingers without appearing too obvious about it. It looked as if there were only five, but he did see something else out the ordinary: Restaro appeared to have an extra joint on each of his fingers, which were easily twice the length of Callan’s own. In addition, he was slightly taller, with an overall elven appearance about him.
A rutain, Xeph offered helpfully. Callan suspected he’d just uncompressed the memory himself.
“Priestess.” Restaro didn’t appear overly hostile, but his voice had a flat note to it that wasn’t friendly, either. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a return visit so soon?”
Callan got the distinct impression that whatever the man was feeling at the moment, it wasn’t pleasure.
“We do not mean to intrude upon your hospitality. I am merely escorting Xeph’s avatar to Aos, so he may aid the town in their recent troubles.”
“Avatar?” The rutain woman had come to a stop beside Restaro, but not she stepped forward. Her eyes found Callan’s own. “You are the avatar for lord Xeph-Zul-Karatl?”
“Yep, that’s me.” Callan started to hold out a hand, realized the woman already had her hands occupied, and quickly let it drop. “Xeph wanted to stop by all the farms where people had offered their faith to offer his thanks personally.”
“The god is too kind.” The woman bowed awkwardly. Kivi stepped beside her and rose onto her tiptoes to peer at the babe hiding beneath a mass of blankets.
“Your little one has grown since I was last here, Sadie. And is even cuter than before!”
The rutain woman blushed and murmured some thanks. Callan turned and noticed that the farmer Restaro was watching him with a rather intense expression.
Hmm. Interesting. The rutain woman has offered her faith to us, but not her husband. I wonder why?
“I imagine that’s what we’re here to resolve,” Callan muttered. A little louder, he said. “High Priestess, we don’t want to impose upon these people for too long. Perhaps you wish to tell them about your brilliant idea?”
“Avatar?” Kivi blinked at him a moment before seeming to come back to herself. “Of course, wise as ever. Restaro, we have an offer for you.”
“I already told you, I’m not interested in offering my faith to your god,” the man said gruffly.
“And if that is your wish, we shall respect it. However, the avatar wishes to provide your family with a gift. No obligation or service is required in return.”
“Oh?” The rutain had a suspicious note in his voice. “And what’s that?”
A broad grin broke onto Callan’s face. “Let me ask you this: did you enjoy last night’s moonrise?”
Restaro’s eyes narrowed. “It is never easy, but our farmland endures. The water reached my northern field, but the southern lies untouched.”
“And your family?” Kivi asked.
“We retreated to the high hills, as we usually do,” Sadie said. “My husband has built us a small cabin there.”
“Why not just live in the hills instead of down at the level where tides can reach you?” Callan asked. All eyes turned towards him.
“If I had a season to clear away sufficient trees, that might be an option,” Restaro said at last. “However, the land down here remains fertile. It would be too much of a risk to move my family elsewhere when our fields here still provide.”
“Of course, Restaro. We are not questioning your judgement,” Kivi said quickly. “After all, one can never predict the tides. May they remain low for many years.”
“It is what it is, priestess. The Countess gives, and the Countess takes away.”
“As is her divine right as regent.” The words had a distinct ring of formality to them. Restaro gave a grunt but nodded appreciably.
“Still,” Kivi continued, “There is accepting the tribulations of the moons, and there is taking what measures you can to protect yourselves. What do you intend to do if a moonrise catches you unaware? Or unable to travel?”
Sadie clutched her babe closer, her face turning pale at the thought. Kivi gave the woman a reassuring smile, then turned back to the farmer. “We have come to offer you a gift: protection from the tides. Something a bit closer to home than your remote cabin.”
“Hmm.” For the first time, the farmer’s expression softened. He gave a nod, then turned and walked back under his arch. “Best come inside, then. This sounds like a discussion better held over supper.”