Chapter 14

As they traveled west the land changed from leafy trees to trees with needles. Mato found the pine and firs more aromatic than the leafy versions. The kinds of animals they encountered changed from songbirds to jays, and frogs transitioned to lizards.

No matter how accustomed he felt to the outside world, there were things he could not absorb. It still made him stop short when they threw a sizable log or branch into the fire. In Abo, that piece of wood was worth substantial amounts.

They found moa eggs, which were so massive Mato didn’t know what to make of them. A quail egg was a knuckle or two long. A moa egg was nearly three hands long. It was incredible.

They made stew by cooking local vegetables in a pot, then adding a moa egg at the end. It would have taken dozens and dozens of quail eggs to make the same meal. Mato ate like a starving man, then helped make another batch.

Ezhno ran him ragged. They woke early and scouted the day’s march by leaving their packs and running the day’s route. By the time they returned the seekers would be in motion, and the trail masters would eat breakfast alone. The purpose was to ensure that the day’s march was successful, and waiting after the seekers departed allowed them to check for anyone that might follow them.

They would follow the cohort, checking off to the sides as Ezhno identified places of interest, usually high places that gave them a good view of the surrounding lands.

Mato estimated that while the seekers were traveling fifteen clips per day, Ezhno was covering forty-five to sixty. For the most part he kept up, but on the longest days his legs would fail him toward evening.

“Seeker cohorts are usually safe,” Ezhno said as they surveyed the forest from a small hill. “They don’t have much of value, and the journey is sacred. However, these missions are our most important work. If our party is attacked, it is critical that we warn them first. That shows we have been doing our jobs.”

Mato took a careful drink from a waterskin. “Do you always have to run like this?”

“No, we always have two trail masters on a seeker trip. It is just that you are too green to do half of the work.”

“I’m sorry, Ezhno. What can I do to make it up to you?”

He grinned and shaded his eyes to look at the land sunward from their hilltop. “Continue to work hard. Learn what I teach you. Think carefully about everything you see and hear.”

“I will try harder.”

“Don’t burn yourself out. I am happy with the effort you have demonstrated so far.”

Ezhno sat and put out a cup, then proceeded to drip water of life from his sword into the cup. When it was full he gestured for Mato to take it. Mato downed the water, then replaced the cup, and Ezhno started refilling it again.

“Why do you hide this from the priests?” Mato asked.

“I’m not hiding it, exactly. I’m just trying to keep them from noticing it. I have several unapproved pairings on my blade. This is accepted for trail masters, as we serve such a vital function. However, it is best to avoid arguments on the subject. The priests can be vengeful when they don’t get their way.”

Mato frowned and squatted beside Ezhno. “You mean we have permission to make unapproved pairings, but if we show them to a priest he might make trouble anyway?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

“You don’t like the priests, do you?”

Ezhno glanced around carefully. “No. I do not. When I told you Allo had saved my life a few times, at least two of those times were priests who recommended I be put to death.”

“Allo fought the priests?”

“Not fought, exactly, but he risked a great deal to persuade them. Listen, other people have different experiences with the priests, but I have not had one of them try to help me. Ever.”

* * *

“Today we will reach the Tulwaney river,” Ezhno said. “This is the traditional divider between the lands of man and the lands of the anathema. You will hear me refer to them as thema sometimes. Your wisdoms disapprove of that practice, but I do it to differentiate between three basic types.

“First there are stupid monsters. They are vicious, and you cannot negotiate with them. If you get into a fight, you will win or die. I call these monsters.

“Second, there are smart monsters. They are cunning and vicious. Some of them can even speak. These cannot be trusted, but in an emergency you may be able to trick them, or intimidate them. They are more dangerous than the stupid monsters, but sometimes you can use their own intelligence against them. I call these anathema.

“Third, there are smart creatures. They are cunning, and may well rob you or cheat you, but they are not typically as vicious as the other two types. I recommend against trusting them, but if you are clever you can sometimes get the upper hand through trickery. I advise you to avoid violence with these creatures--why fight if you can simply leave? I call these thema.

“Some of the thema and anathema are beautiful. Do not let them lure you away from your cohort. Mating with them is against nature, and Sotsona has forbidden it. So, look but do not touch. Be extremely careful about any deals you make or promises you offer. They will expect you to keep your word, and they may not understand what you intended when you made the promise. The easiest way to get around them is to be polite, stay with your cohort, and let me or the wisdoms do any talking.”

Mato wasn’t sure what to be most excited about. He’d heard about monsters his whole life. They featured in many stories, and on rare occasions adventurers even brought monsters or parts of monsters to Abo for trade.

Then there was the river. He’d heard about it many times, but the closest thing he’d ever seen to a river was the creek. A river was a huge expanse of flowing water. Mato was certain he would drown if he tried to swim across, and who knew what was under the surface?

Wisdom Poplar stepped up beside Ezhno. “Listen closely to every word of your trail master’s advice. So far we have traveled through safe lands, and dealt with our old trading partners. Every once in a while there are anathema on this side of the river, but that is rare. Keep your eyes open. If you see anything strange, signal one of your wisdoms, or your trail master. I want all of you to return home safely, so listen, and listen well.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

That was interesting. Mato had never heard a wisdom express concern for someone else’s welfare before. Perhaps Poplar was a bit better than average. Or perhaps there was some angle he could pursue by sounding kind.

Mato resolved to watch him closely.

Today he followed Ezhno as they marched ahead of the cohort. They stayed in sight of their charges, moving only as far ahead as sight allowed.

When they neared the river the land changed around them. The forest gave way to a narrow strip of grassland, and then the height of the grass subsided from three paces, to a hand or two over a half clip.

A substantial stone tower stood at the edge of a cut in the land, and ropes reached across the cut to a similar tower on the other side.

As they drew closer Mato began to understand the scale of the sight. The towers were nearly as tall as the pyramid in Abo. The stones were huge, and he wondered how they had been placed.

The ropes turned out to be huge bundles of twisted grass nearly as thick as his waist, and the cut in the ground was several hundred paces wide. There was a floor of rough cut branches and logs, and sides of loosely woven rope as thick as his wrists.

Mato crept out a few feet onto the bridge, and suddenly he was able to see down. Hundreds of feet down. Water--enormous amounts of water--thrashed its way over and around boulders. He could hear the roar of the river far below. It must be deafening up close.

He clutched the side ropes and carefully worked his way back to solid ground.

Ezhno patted him on the back. “Well done, Mato. Everyone is overcome by the majesty of the gorge the first time they see it.”

“What is a gorge?”

“That,” Ezhno said, pointing up and down the cut.

“What made it?”

“I don’t know. Some say the river carved the gorge in its anger. Others say one of the spirits cut the gorge to let the water flow.”

They waited while the cohort caught up, and then Ezhno addressed the group again.

“For most of you this will be your first crossing of Tulwaney Gorge. If we are blessed, this will be the most exciting part of the journey. The Nambe maintain the bridge, and it is in good repair. Subdue your fear, and cross efficiently, but carefully. Hang onto the ropes, and make sure you check where you put your feet.

“I have not seen any signs of trouble, but we are always careful about how we cross. Mato and I will go first. Then the cohort. Lastly, the priests.

“We do it this way because we are vulnerable while we cross. Those remaining on this side can be attacked while the cohort is strung out along the bridge. Those of us who arrive on the other side first can be attacked and pushed back.

“If anything happens, watch carefully for signals from your wisdoms and from me. For example, if the wisdoms are attacked, we may wish to fight and resolve the battle before crossing, or we may wish to make a fighting retreat. If you are called to one side or the other, it is critical that you move quickly and carefully in the direction we order.”

Once again Wisdom Poplar joined Ezhno. “We cannot overstate the importance of Ezhno’s instructions. If you see Tupi and I call for reinforcements, and you look the other way and find that Ezhno is also calling for reinforcements, then half of you should go to each side. Your seniors will understand what to do if we see you splitting up on the bridge.”

The seekers took a few minutes to string bows and make certain their knives were in easy reach, then Ezhno started across.

The bridge shook as Ezhno walked, and Mato found himself gulping air. Cold sweat ran down his back and sides. He was almost sure he could hear the ropes fraying.

“Come on, Mato. You’re doing well,” Ezhno called over his shoulder.

Mato worked his way forward, and a branch rolled under his foot. For an instant he thought he was going to die, but the bridge was still there, and the ropes still felt strong.

As they closed on the far side the swaying reduced, and Mato began to feel like he might live after all.

Then, when they were about twenty a pair of thema stepped from behind the pillars that anchored the bridge.

“Hold, human.”

Ezhno raised his hand. “Greetings, thema. What should we discuss?”

They were taller than Ezhno, but not as tall as Erik. Short brown hair, a bit like a goat, covered their bodies. Instead of goat horns they had strange forking horns that stuck up from their heads, almost as if a many-forked lightning strike were made from bone.

Both of them carried axes of a black stone that looked sharp and shone in the rays of the sun.

“We can discuss you turning back.” The speaker had a white spot at the base of his throat.

“This is a holy journey,” Ezhno said. “You can force us to turn back, but we will only return with soldiers.”

The thema took a step forward and held his ax near the ropes. “And how will they force their way across?”

Ezhno shrugged. “I don’t know. The Nambe claim this bridge. I am Ezhno, from Abo.”

“Then you are the problem,” the creature said.

“Can you explain?”

Mato glanced back and realized the cohort was still moving forward.

“Should I signal them to wait?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Mato held his hand up, palm toward the seekers. After a few seconds the leader waved to him and stopped moving.

“Last time we allowed one of your bands to cross, they killed my kin.”

Ezhno bowed his head. “I grieve with you. It should not have happened.”

“Then turn back.”

“As I said, if I turn back, the next humans will be soldiers.”

“Do you think we fear you?” the thema asked.

“Of course not. I do not seek to frighten you, only to negotiate. If my cohort is allowed to pass, we will take our young men to the trials, and then we will leave. Simply give us a clear path to travel, and we will not trouble you.”

He glanced at his friend, and Mato’s impression of a goat, or similar animal increased. They had three fingers and a thumb, all of which ended in a heavy black nail, more like a small hoof than anything else. Their eyes had wide horizontal pupils.

“That is what the last group claimed.”

“May I approach?” Ezhno asked.

They shared another glance, then the one with the white dot motioned Ezhno forward.

“Come, Mato.”

“I did not say both of you.”

“This is my student, Mato Stone Foot. He must learn to do what I do. This discussion will be good for his education.”

“We do not fear you,” the other creature said.

Mato followed Ezhno off of the bridge, noting that Ezhno seemed relaxed and had not reached toward his sword. Mato glanced back and forth between the thema, and followed his teacher’s example.

“Nor should you,” Ezhno said. “We must go to the trials. There need be no conflict between us.”

A ululating cry sounded from the forest behind the thema guards.

“Your presence is required. Our lady would speak to you.”

Ezhno grimaced, then disciplined his face to show nothing.

“Mato, go tell the cohort I am negotiating passage. Have them gather on the far side and wait. When you have delivered your message, return to me. I may have more news for you to carry.”

“No,” the one with the white dot said. “He will come with us.”

Ezhno drew his blade a knuckle. “First you say he cannot come, now you say he cannot leave. This is my student. He goes where I tell him. The message will keep the others from coming to look for me.”

“Go then,” the thema said.