Chapter 15 Berch Brought Low

Berch Brought Low

Delaney trailed behind Windglow through a gauntlet of burrs and thistles biting at her ankles along a sandy gully. She was glad that he had asked her to join Roland and him on a blackberry foraging mission. Berch’s gloating over the company’s recent success had grown so insufferable that she needed to get away from.

“Now there was a plan for you!” Berch said over and over. “Making that little pitch bomb and chucking it at that fellow’s cap so he’d panic and spread the fire for us! Digtry breaking down the door and running away in full view of the guards, and then sneaking back inside to join us. Pure genius! Break down the door and don’t leave! Crawl and hide up in the corner rafters of those huge timbers! And those Lumberjacks walk in and never even look up, cursing a blue storm right under our noses! Then they go the wrong way just because they assume we’re all liars, leaving us a clear path to Tishaara. Hah!You can’t beat that!”

That uncharacteristic litany of praise from him, generous as it was toward Digtry, only seemed to crush whatever remained of Windglow’s deflated spirits. Delaney found herself worrying about him, which both annoyed and surprised her, given that she had never spent much time worrying about anyone but herself. But the pain in his eyes whenever Berch rehashed their success went far beyond any suffering she had ever witnessed. He took no pleasure in their exhilarating escape from multiple dangers, only slumped ever lower under the invisible weight that crushed him. The bags under his eyes had deepened and hardened into leathery pouches and he seemed to have aged a decade since the start of the journey. Delaney’s concern actually improved her own mental health. Every thought focused on someone less fortunate was one less thought focused on herself and her miserable lot in life.

At this moment, she thought it odd that Windglow would recruit the two of them to search for berries, leaving Berch with Digtry. Not that any of them seemed to be in danger. Broadmaul’s rash and poorly reasoned conclusions regarding their plans and destination had left their path relatively open. Yet, even though they had easily eluded the few Lumberjack patrols on the west end of Big Timber, and saw no sign of Raxxars or anyone else, splitting up the group made her nervous. Blackberries were a nice treat but certainly not worth the risk. A few days ago, when she would have wept over a crust of week-old bread, she might have thought differently, but not after stuffing herself on Lumberjack food. Besides, blackberry season was past. The pitifully small fruit that still clung to the thorn bushes turned to mush, staining her fingers the instant she touched them. They were not even close to being worth the thorn scratches she suffered to get them. Within a short time she became so irritated by the thorns and the clusters of round burrs poking through her socks that she hardly picked a thing.

“This totally sucks,” she said. “I mean, hello? There aren’t any berries worth squat; I’m ripping my arms and legs apart for nothing. It's not like we're starving and need theses. You said we would reach Tishaara tomorrow. They must have something better to eat than this."

“Give him a break,” said Roland. “Remember, while the rest of us have been sampling Lumberjack cuisine, his conscience wouldn’t let him take a thing. I suppose even these loser berries look good to him.”

“I could not steal food from the Lumberjacks,” said Windglow, defensively. “Tishaarans do not steal. Especially not after we had just done.”

“You’re right,” said Roland in mock solemnity. “I feel bad that our escape offended them and deprived them of the joy of executing us. How selfish of us.”

“We put their whole forest in peril," said Windglow. "Not to mention committing the single worst act of diplomacy in the history of the realm, an act that has put the survival of my people in grave doubt, and all just for our personal advantage. Contrary to everything in my upbringing as a Tishaaran.”

“You just need to chill," said Delaney. We didn’t really hurt them. They put out the fire before it really did anything. You can explain the whole thing to them once they cool down.”

“When they cool down? None of us will live that long. Anyway, it is my concern and not yours,” he said, wrinkling his long face. “I shall not belabor the point. I brought you here for a purpose other than discussing regrets and diplomatic suicide and collecting berries. I pray you will forgive the deception.”

“A deception?” said Roland. “I wouldn’t have believed you could pull it off. But I wish you would stop apologizing for everything. Just assume anything you do is fine with us unless you hear otherwise.”

“I am more in need of forgiveness than you know,” said Windglow, inspecting the nails of his long fingers. “That is why Berch is not with us. There is something he needs to hear that would be better heard in private.”

Delaney stiffened in alarm. “What's up with Berch?”

“That may depend on how tactful Digtry is in explaining the matter to him,” said Windglow.

“Digtry? Tactful?” laughed Roland. “He’s got about as much tact as a Raxxar! And if I know him, he isn’t dragging the story out as long as you are.”

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Delaney flashed her dark eyes at Roland. “Shut up, Roland! This sounds serious.” She had only to glance at Windglow’s haggard eyes and gaunt face to confirm the gravity of the situation. Roland seemed stunned and a little embarrassed by a scolding from pathetic little Delaney, of all people

.

“Indeed it is, Delaney. As serious as matters get,” said Windglow. “But I am afraid I cannot convey the full impact without some background information. A bit of history as it were. Please bear with me if I tread over old ground.

“As you know,” he said, nervously fingering the stunted, bleeding mushberries in his pouch, ”we Tishaarans have had difficulties with the Raxxars since time immemorial. One of our most difficult challenges is that the Raxxars and ourselves do not live by the same rules. Raxxars kill. With relish, if you will forgive a biased observation. Tishaarans do not kill, except to eat.

“You mean, like, it’s against the law to kill even in self-defense? Even a Raxxar?” asked Delaney.

Windglow closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I am explaining this badly already, as usual. There is no ordinance as such regarding killing. What I refer to is a way of life that has always been the core of Tishaaran existence. For generations, this foundation of our society exposed us to the threat of extinction. As a practical matter, when under attack, the refusal to kill is a handicap, one that the Raxxars were never shy about exploiting.

“For this reason, we moved from our traditional home on the coast, south of the August Mountains. It was too open and left us quite vulnerable. The land on which we have since settled is bordered on three sides by impassable mountains. The only opening, to the north, is protected by a rather intricate set of natural and created barriers.

“Somehow the Raxxars caught wind of the resettlement plans. During their flight to this haven, During my ancestors’ move to this haven, they were waylaid by the horde. We Tishaarans would have been reduced to a footnote in history on the spot if not for a pack of Fourth Realm wolves.”

Delaney’s fingers flew to her lips. In the process she spilled the few berries she had collected, leaving nothing but purple stains in her bandana. She had never gotten over the gruesome sight of the wild dogs ripping apart a wolf on the August mesa. But the raw brutality seemed at least in some way justified by the wolf’s predatory designs. It was, after all, just a dumb brute who was trying to kill them. But she realized suddenly that she had been thinking in her old world mentality. Few things were as she expected in the realmlands. What if the wolf were . . .

Windglow stared hard at the ground, beads of sweat lining a deep crease in his forehead. “At that time, the wolves were making a rare pass through the Third Realm,” he continued. “The nature of their mission has since been forgotten. I suppose they could say what it was. Anyway, they saw our danger and came to our aid. They undertook this, you understand, at great risk to themselves. Fourth Realmers sacrifice much when they strive against Third Realm creatures under Third Realm natural law--limitations in communication not the least. Several wolves died in our defense, but they held off the Raxxars long enough for our people to reach safety.”

“Interesting,” said Roland, “but would you get to the . . .” His voice tailed off as he saw that Delaney’s face had gone white. Having missed out on the wolf episode, he had, as yet, made no connection.

But Delaney clearly recalled the wolf’s face, deadly and terrifying, yet somber and calm. Had it been stalking them, or simply approaching them in trust. Was she imagining the bewilderment in those savage eyess, the acceptance of abuse and betrayal into the hands of the enemy? There was no forgetting the grisly dismemberment. Berch’s chortling as the dogs tore apart the flesh of the beast. She felt sick all over again.

“Pardon me, Delaney, do you need to sit down?” asked Windglow. She shook her head. But her head began to swim and she placed her hand on a hickory trunk to steady herself.

“I see that you have put most of the pieces together already,” he continued. “Forgive my rambling; I can finish the point rather quickly now. That event forged a lasting friendship between Tishaara and the wolves. To my knowledge it is the only such bond between members of separate realms. Alas, the alliance has been shamefully one-sided. There are tales of the valor of the wolves spent on our account over the years. Meanwhile, well, there is not much one can do for a wolf from the higher realm.”

He swallowed with great difficulty. “The wolf you met on the mesa, Delaney, was of the Fourth Realm. Our dearest ally.”

She had deduced this moments ago, and wondered if she had subconsciously felt it for days. Windglow’s revulsion at the scene of the wolf’s death, his depression and lack of focus ever since, and the curious row and confusion caused by Berch’s gloating in the Lumberjack camp--it should have been obvious. Yet the spoken confirmation froze her blood.

”The wolf was an honored friend,” said Windglow, swallowing with difficulty. “As it was traveling alone, there is a great likelihood that it came seeking help. Perhaps for the first time in our long association that a wolf needed and sought help from us and we turned on it and betrayed it into the jaws of its assassins.”

The scene on the mesas flooded back on Delaney in all its cruel and sickening detail. Berch laughing and cheering. “It’s no one’s fault,” she said, her voice cracking. “How was Berch supposed to know?”

Windglow blinked miserably and shook his head. “You are wrong, begging your pardon. Not as regards Berch. But there is certainly fault in this case. The blood is upon my hands. I had no excuse for abandoning camp the morning of the wolf’s appearance, not even for a little while. I ought not to have left you alone, especially without giving notice of where I was going. Had I stayed with you where I belonged, as any sensible person in hostile territory ought, this tragedy would never have taken place.”

His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes revealed a soul in torment. “I have been worse than useless this entire trek. Had I limited myself to being useless we would be worlds better off than we are now. I have no doubt this will go down as the most disastrous and incompetently led excursion in the history of Tishaara, and likely in the history of all the realms. Yes, you stand in the presence of a legend.”

“Windglow, don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Delaney. “You got us this far. And look what you’ve been dealing with--some Fifth Realm freak who can do all sorts of things with dreams. Besides, you didn’t exactly get a lot of help. You sure didn’t get any from me.”

“Now, none of that. I am not confessing this to gain your pity,” said Windglow, fighting his emotions. “I am telling you this for Berch’s sake. Although the blame is mine, I fear he will take this hard. He may not have been the most desirable travel mate, forgive me for saying so, but he was so proud . . .” His voice trailed off.

“. . . of defending me from the wolf,” Delaney finished. “Oh, I almost want to give him a hug.”

“Don’t act on that impulse,” said Roland. “It’ll go away fast.”

Delaney glared at him.

“I had hoped we could whisk you to Tishaara and somehow you could return to your own world without any of you having to know the truth of this,” said Windglow, with a heavy sigh. “But Berch’s boasting about the killing was creating problems. You saw what happened in the Lumberjack camp. They knew that no honest Tishaaran would countenance any association with someone who bragged of slaying a wolf. He completely destroyed our credibility. It is something that had to be dealt with.”

“Return to your own world.” Delaney ran the phrase through her mind. How often she had begged to be delivered from this hell and returned to her home. Had she done anything else during all the hours of torment in the Rushbrook dungeon? At the moment she could recall almost nothing of that place she called home for which she had prayed so hard. She wanted it now more than ever, but she saw that she was beginning to regard home as a sort of nebulous escape from misery. Not for the first time, she wondered if that home was anything more than a dream. Had she ever really lived anywhere besides these miserable realmlands?