We’d a couple of hours of good-natured chatting about this and that before someone began droning about doom and disaster. Most pointedly targeting a few others and me, I grimaced rather sourly, usually the people who honestly believed we’d return to the village at later date.
When I espied the most strident of spewing venom-contained prophecies glaring my way, I did my best to ignore the doom and gloom.
“She’s going to be the death of us all,” came the ominous warning from a pompous old windbag who wasn’t an Elder though he’d run for the position more than once. “We’re not going to survive if she remains one of our numbers.” He spat in my direction and missed.
I’d correctly stepped to my left rather than the right, promptly chosen to scale a wall of another building and remained out of his reach.
“Oh shut your mouth, Reginald. You’ll have plenty of time to whine later,” someone suggested. “There’s no time for blathering unless you’re remaining here?”
“Most certainly not, and I’m not willing to risk my life in the raft with her and those brats she birthed,” Reginald snarled. He fisted his hands as he glowered up where I was.
I could tell he was about to make another attempt of spewing spittle on me this time. An attempt I calmly avoided when I went down in another direction out of his immediate sight. I heard footsteps, shuffling and swift, both heading in the direction I’d gone. Man, Reginald was persistent this evening.
“Ah, that request of yours? ’Tis most easily accomplished since you weren’t slated for that raft anyhow.” Carob appeared and drew him from my proximity before I did something I regretted.
I heard snickers from listeners as the mumbling Reginald left the main gathering area.
“What a crazy old man.”
“Likely he’s another victim of the ichors injection.”
“If he is, why don’t they put him down like the rabid old dog that he’s turned into?”
“Now that isn’t nice or necessary, Arlene. Would you like it if someone referred to you as such?”
“Since you have in the past, Igor, why do you think I’m used to such references?”
After hearing snippets of the timorous and rather rancorous remarks, I grimaced and shook my head in disbelief. Nor did I bother sticking around either. I had repacking to do. With the knowledge that time was no longer a commodious luxury.
The remaining and distinctly straggling others and I split to various caverns where we housed our family members and gear. Which I found most ironic, as I hurried through the doors of one small shabby hut assigned to me. I made a point of latching and barring the doors to my particular domicile. I heard distinct clicking, clacking, and thumping all around me. Even if we had to flee, we weren’t going to make it easy for anyone to break into the buildings, no matter how flimsy the walls might turn out to be.
Then I hurried down the tunnels leading to those real domiciles in which the families dwelled. There I found the children busily putting small keepsakes and tools they’d laboriously carved from various materials into bags they would haul on their shoulders. The rest of their items went into larger bags. My items would wrap around their belongings to keep them safe.
As for clothing, I put in all of their various seasonal weather items, including newer ones I meant to keep for when they grew bigger. As it happened, I knew that wasn’t going to remain a problem much longer as I surveyed the children with bemusement. Then I shrugged. “I’m glad I remade clothing for you out of my old gear that’s weather-proofed.”
I caught sight of Carob’s eyes widening when he overheard my remark and he snorted with laughter. “Who would ever think you don’t like hand-me-downs?” He observed dryly as he assisted me in folding clothing and rearranging things to make smoother bundles.
“Bah, I didn’t wear the usual female clothing typical of the caravan.” I shrugged. “Rather I wore remade male clothing because it suited me better with the types of work I did.” I grinned at him, and knew he caught the wicked amusement in mine when I added. “I also made them mine through usage of various dyes. No one could find me when I didn’t want to be found!” which was true because I blended too well within whatever landscape or colorful scenery we traveled through.
My thoughts shifted in other directions after the packing was finished. The village huts scattered around? Hah, I snorted softly. They were mere shells of what constituted homes for the villagers. Not a single one of the families or their members lived above ground in those flimsy-walled homes. It didn’t occur to me that I should ask who’d gotten the notion of underground dwellings through thick skulls initially.
After word spread about more information open to others, I’d begun rethinking what I would bring along with me. Had I really considered consequences, I wouldn’t have taken certain items. Ergo, I’d a wakeup call via Merilee and me and the others who knew me, knew that as well.
“Fortunately I’d received it long before we boarded the rafts,” I mused wryly.
“Good thing you did receive whatever you had before now,” Carob murmured. “You’ll have gained a good head start on others.” He smiled at me.
I blinked at him. “Have you heard from Antony?” Maybe not the best time to ask but I was somewhat worried about him.
Carob’s smile vanished. “No, I haven’t and I’ll admit I’m worried about him.” he sighed softly. “I’d received a cryptic message around three weeks ago, not long after he left.” His brows furrowed when he added, “He mentioned something about his gifts and talents surging and then vanishing completely.”
I hesitated, cold chills running through me when I heard that statement. “That sounds similar to what happened to me before I had another surge that sent me winging through the skies.” I had a bad feeling about what the news meant.
Carob focused on me completely when I listed symptoms and what that meant. At last, I shrugged in discomfort. “For all I know, he’ll regain his abilities. It’s very likely though that brigands and bandits learned about the little trick of sabotaging our abilities and memories.” I had an even worse sense of foreboding about what one of our worst surprises on the river would turn into. I didn’t dare voice what worried me to Carob. He’d enough grief and bad news to shift and spin into good tidings for the villagers. I forced a smile at him. “Well, we can pray that nothing stops our travels at the confluence.” I did give him that much inkling of what worried me now.
Carob shrugged with a faint smile. “We’re starting to board the rafts now. The news listed isn’t the same as what we decided upon formally.” There our conversation ended and the rest of the packing completed as well.
* * * *
Hours later, I’d lost count after we’d shot past our fourth or fifth rapids. I drew my attention to the present and good thing I did. The naysayers were droning and I ignored them very pointedly. About the same time that began was when I noticed a difference in the temperature. It had gone from icy chill to almost temperate, but I knew from warnings of Carob and others it wouldn’t last long. I didn’t bother listening to the droning because I had other thoughts on my mind.
Unfortunately, I discovered that one of the passengers on my particular raft was one of the crankier and more disapproving Elders. A particular man who distrusted me and didn’t bother hiding his distaste about how I’d come to the village in general. Therefore, I did my best to remain at a distance. I felt bad for the babies—they had to listen to him because they were strapped in the center for the highest safety value.
A voice boomed from somewhere ahead of me. I jumped as I listened to him speak. “Disaster waits in those cliffs and crags that overhang the intersecting canyons from whence rainwater roars. You can hear it now.” Elder Carnegie pronounced. He pointedly didn’t look in my direction.
I snorted and muttered under my breath. “That may be so, but I can also hear the chanteuses counter-spelling the storms and any ill-luck headed our way.” I did my best to ignore him. Soft laughter muffled nearby told me others heard my disgruntled response.
Doomsayers, I’d enough of dealing with them to last a lifetime, several lifetimes, in fact. Instead, I studied the landscape flashing past beneath the half-concealed moonlight. Shadows rippled and dipped along with the glistening dark waters as we poled through the night.
Despite the plans of the early departure tomorrow, more evidence became known that someone had leaked our plans to the brigands. I had no doubt it was either someone under a spell, or another way had opened up an unknown channel. Either way, we had to move quickly to thwart the brigands. My fear was if what I suspected occurred, the one manipulating the brigands likely expected the nighttime departure anyway. We’d be lucky to escape with our lives.
With the warnings spread throughout the village, I witnessed carefully planned exodus to each individual raft. Much to my bemusement, the first to go out were the ones holding the luggage and possessions. I watched in fascination because I hadn’t brought much with me that was personal. Nor did I think I would bring much of anything worth back either.
“The luggage is the least important.” Roanoke startled me. “We don’t put stock in those.”
I peered at him with a lifted eyebrow of puzzlement. I hadn’t expected him to even acknowledge, much less speak to me after our contretemps earlier.
He spoke in an easy whisper. “We’ve learned how to figure alternatives in deceiving brigands and such.” He hunched a shoulder as he leaned on a pole abruptly to the left.
“I think we’re missing a piece of information.” I mimicked his movement with a slightly different direction. I saw where we headed. “I don’t have all the knowledge I should recall.” I didn’t shrug even as I followed the spoken directions of the lead poling.
“All that matters is you’re aware of what is going on now.” Roanoke frowned at me. “We’re on the roaring rapids and heading straightaway into the main area of where the worst of ambushes will take place.” He shrugged, keeping the pole in place. “We’re committed to the running rapids ride and therefore we cannot turn back.” He did glance over my shoulder and made a face. “The brigands have begun their attack early.”
“I fear for the lives of the ones left behind.” I shivered but didn’t turn away from my task. “Then again, I also fear for the ones who turn off at the intersecting canyons. I cannot shake the sensation of them becoming trapped and overrun with water.” I glanced at him and made a wry face.
Roanoke grunted. “They made their choices of which routes they would take even before you came into the lives of the villagers, Myra,” he told me roughly. “There was no question that we could remain any longer than we had.” He looked me straight in the eye and I knew he told me the truth. “Not even Carob knew or foresaw what would come of the breaching of our people’s walls and internal safety.”
I could actually see his eyes flicker when he referred to Merilee. She wasn’t the only one who’d I’d discovered infected with the demon ichors. Unfortunately, I could do nothing for some of them. They had chosen to remain behind in the suicidal attempt at holding the brigands at bay, or rode rafts into the dead canyons, ones that would overrun with waters from various storms.
I shook my head somberly. “Had I remembered more about freeing them, I would. I suspect though that nothing I could do would help them.”
Roanoke gave me a long stare and nodded. “It is partially free will that traps them, for here I sit, do I not?” he asked sharply.
When I had freed Merilee, checked the others who were too far-gone, I saw unmistakable traces of who’d gotten to them. However, I had no idea how they had managed to be exposed to my father, or what was left of his husk. I sucked in a breath and told him curtly. “Oh, that is part of it, aye,” My head bowed infinitesimally when I added angrily. “They also are expressing willingness to share yon flesh with a demonic presence.”
I didn’t know much more than I had when I first started on the subject. Nor did I truly want to know anymore. I didn’t have that option of ignorance either. Someone passed me knowledge through some kind of mental or psychic transference. Transference of esoteric and very ugly dark magic I didn’t quite grasp or coherently put into wording that wouldn’t offend other folks I spoke with and shivered over having to speak about it even now.
I sensed Roanoke glancing at me, seeing his questioning stare; I grimaced and finished voicing my unhappy theory. “Which my father willingly did so and therefore is, I suspect, involved with some of this situation.” I shook my head when he would’ve asked more. “Honestly, I don’t know where half of my knowledge is coming from, Roanoke, much less how to voice it clearly to make sense to anyone.”
He snapped his mouth shut and nodded thoughtfully. I noticed he watched my actions with puzzled curiosity. “You seem to know what you’re doing, almost as if you’ve done this before,” Roanoke ventured to observe.
Currently I made sure I wouldn’t sicken unexpectedly because I’d had dim memories of riding rapids before. “This is turning into one of those recovery times that are meshing with the present.” I wasn’t sickening then but something must’ve happened in the years passing that built a fear within me of the water.
However as I handled the poling among other duties, the fear wore off as we approached the rapids. “It is very possible as a child that I came from a rafting-based company before joining the caravan that traveled through the jungle, the rainforest, and other types of climates.” More than just possible, but very likely since I hadn’t come from birth within the caravan, and I hadn’t come from an actual bloodline either.
“So you weren’t born into the caravan?” Roanoke pounced on that fact. “If that is so, why are you so free of mutilation and scarring through some of their practices?” He studied me more closely as he inquired.
A very bad and sour taste filled my mouth when I thought over that fact and compared my relatively free-roaming lifestyle to the other females. That’s when I remembered what I’d never gone through at my grandmother’s insistence. “No, I wasn’t born into the caravan. Now I’m grateful too,” I felt another shiver wracking through me convulsively. Was he deliberately trying to make me sicken?
Roanoke nodded soberly though he didn’t speak thereby allowing me to finish what I spoke about of memories. Memories, I noticed somewhat sourly, conveniently escaping the injected block several months ago on that cloudy flight from peril. A block to this day that remained stubbornly in place of other subjects I’d rather know about right now than anything that I could possibly think of currently.
Finally, I finished my thought, though not without some bitterness. “Otherwise I would’ve undergone other unpleasant rituals before reaching the blossoming years.” No matter her position of importance within the clan, or of the fact that Ti’Ana was my grandmother.
“I’m grateful that she kept me from going through them otherwise there was no telling how I’d’ve managed to escape.” As far as I knew, she hadn’t birthed other children after my mother or even before my mother.
I gave Roanoke a calm stare. “I had a very stubborn matriarch watching over me.” From the little of the family history that I knew about from previous experience of stupid assumptions made incorrectly, I could be wrong. “Yet, I know nothing about grandmother’s past beyond life in the caravan clan.” I wanted to change the subject though.
Roanoke gave me a somber glance. “There’ll come a time when you would want to know for your children’s sake, I would think,” he ventured and shrugged. “On the other hand, perhaps it’s better that you don’t know. Too many pitfalls to negotiate and we’re coming upon a tricky area right now.”
For the tricky portion, I was thankful. It meant I could focus on less comfortable memories and thoughts. I concentrated on following his directions so that we could safely negotiate the rapids. After which we would wind up in a broader river and wider canyon gaps within which we traveled to our interim pausing point.
Even as I hoped, I felt a familiar unsettling pressure building in my gut and my mind. Black, very dark magic was on the rise. I scanned the skies overhead and spotted what I thought was a figure standing on a cliff ledge overhanging the confluence of rivers. “Up there!” I gestured frantically. “There’s someone up there calling black arts down upon us.” What I could feel, I seriously didn’t believe sprouted from good intentions.
Without warning, I heard counter-chants and unconsciously joined in with them as the last of the blocks disintegrated. Even as a child, I had the ability to channel the main source of good powers that would counter anything nasty headed our way. As I watched, a spear shot through the coalescing darkness that resembled a dragon falling toward us.
* * * *
Despite long-held beliefs of his son’s ability to counter what evil might inflict upon him, Carob faced the fact that Antony might’ve given up all hold on the light when he saw the dragon. Not only that but he knew when facts pointed to other unsavory points not in his favor either, and he cursed angrily. “What have I done to you, boy, in my arrogance?”
“Nothing you have done to me father will ever surmount what a demon holds on me currently.” Antony’s voice brushed over his mind. “We’re truly fighting Myra’s sire and his willing accomplice Morley.”
Stunned, Carob blinked when he realized what the warning meant. “They truly seek to murder everyone in the attempt to get at Myra and the babes?”
“No, ’tis Myra they want. The babies born are but an unexpected bonus.” Antony’s mental shrug annoyed Carob. “They would use them to coerce Myra. None of their magic has subverted the babies. Their protections securely barricade any and all attempts to force their compliance.”
Well that was a relief at least for Carob. He didn’t care for the implications of conspiracy that Antony hinted of although Myra already uncovered some of it. “Who else is tagged in their efforts to coerce compliance?”
A definite sense of distaste and distance came at Carob in waves from Antony before his son finally responded rather curtly to his query. “Now any of that I wouldn’t know.”
Images of isolation and torture did slip through the battered shields and sickened Carob with realization of what happened during Antony’s lack of communications, he realized sadly.
After a moment though, his son rallied enough to inform him curtly. “I do know the babies have protectors from within the camp of the enemy.” Antony paused, cleared his throat loudly before he was able to speak and that clued Carob to the fact that he’d reveal important information now rather than when too late.
What Antony told him made him realize there wasn’t much choice in how Antony could conduct his particular orders. “I’m about to launch an attack I cannot abort. Ensure that I’m darted with something that’ll stop me from reaching the waters.” He cleared his throat. “Warn Myra, she’ll know since she’s witnessed similar sights. Her memories are returning faster than the enemies realize.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll make sure that what happens to you won’t be too awful.” Carob caught conflicting reactions from Antony.
“Don’t go easy on me father. If you do and word returns to the remnants of Morley’s crew, all hell would break loose,” Antony informed him tersely.
Although Carob knew that logically, Antony was correct, another part of him wasn’t as coldly practical. Nonetheless, he tapped his link with Myra. “We’ve received warnings; or rather I have from Antony.”
“Hmmm, maybe he sent me dreams and I didn’t catch his signature presence.” Her astonishment briefly allowed Carob know that Myra hadn’t recognized him in her mind.
Carob wanted to investigate further possibilities but knew the timing wasn’t good for that. Especially not on fractious river rapids threatening to tear them apart if, they didn’t find the caverns. Although...his thoughts cut, off at a shout from Myra.
“Follow me because I’m taking a short cut. This will also prove beneficial to some who’re tiring from the poling,” Myra hollered.
Skeptical though he was, Carob understood her concern. He spotted a bunch of scowling naysayers about to open their mouths. He shook his head in disgruntlement. He saw others nudging them to prevent unneeded outbursts at the very wrong time. Relieved, he turned his attention to what would come next. If he wasn’t mistaken, Myra managed to pull off a very big coup d'état.
Much to his surprise, he saw her steering into a dead-ending series of cataracts, only none of it was as advertised. To Carob’s undeniable shock, Myra proved an unusual creature indeed, as she expertly shot through a very narrow opening. He heard startled yelps behind him as other pole-leaders followed hastily.
Not for the first time, Myra proved more than worth her weight in finding unusual escapes. He only hoped for her sake that the latest narrow opening wasn’t the dead end it looked even out of the harsh rapids. As he listened to her words and the conversation between Roanoke and Myra, Carob finally made sense of the dichotomy that was her and her mother.
Oh my but there’ll be fun times ahead, Carob couldn’t help but smile as he envisioned the craziness that hadn’t yet completed. The first phase of the battle with a known demonic entity had just begun. A cheerful whistle rang out from him as he quietly followed the shouted instructions from Myra.
“Are you nuts, Carob?” one of his passengers demanded. “Have you no qualms about her?”
“None at all,” Carob told him cheerfully.
“Only you have the qualms, Dorian,” another pointedly commented. “You’re going to have to quit complaining and stop hiding the fact that you recognized where we’re going.”
Dorian made a rude noise. “If she’s from the cavern’s clans, there’s no telling what she’s remembering,” he stated gruffly.
Carob cast Dorian a startled glance. This time, he actually sounded proud if still skeptical about Myra. “What do you know about them?”
Dorian shook his head. “I can’t answer that right now. We’re surrounded with others who would use information I speak of without care of the consequences.” His terse warning made Carob sigh.
“A good point, I suppose.” He would speak to Dorian again and learn what he knew. No point in giving the others ammunition against her as if he wasn’t aware of who the detractors were, Carob mused.
“I will tell you this though,” Dorian captured his attention. “If she’s related to whom I believe he is...” He shrugged. “She’s in for a much tougher time of her life than she knows or wants to accept.”
Carob stared at him thoughtfully and nodded. “I do have a lingering question that remains to bother me currently.” He regarded Dorian without hesitation.
Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Why are you debating about asking me the question, unless it is simply the timing that has you confounded?” He folded his arms across his chest.
Bah, he would go a different route with the skeptical gentleman. “When are you going to take up a pole, or don’t you want to reveal you can get through these waters safely yourself?” Carob pointedly rubbed one of his sore shoulders.
Dorian glowered but complied with his unspoken accusation that he’d avoided the duty before now. “I’ll do what I can, but if she leads us through this treacherous area safely, I’ll have a better handle on her ancestors.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll also give her leads on where to find them as well.”
Satisfied, Carob inclined his head. “I’ll take the offering as your given oath.” He watched Dorian scowl but nod curtly. “Good then, no more doomsayer remarks from you while poling the raft.” Satisfied he’d shut Dorian up for the near future, he turned his attention back to what was going on around him.
“Myra, what are your thoughts about the conversation I had with Dorian?” Carob relayed everything he’d just learnt.
“Anything is possible and whether he speaks truly or not, I cannot tell you for sure.” Myra startled him. “I’m regaining memories faster than I can sort them. What is foremost in the mind is a safe route to get through the caverns.” She sighed. “It is highly treacherous and if Morley and others have the sources I believe they’ve acquired.”
Oh dear god, he hadn’t thought about that possibility. Leave it to Myra who always caught upon other potential disasters no one ever considered plausible. “What is worrying you most?” Carob demanded as cold fear arced through his body. “I need to know if only to prepare everyone for the worst case scenario.”
He would talk to the others who knew the area a smidgeon better than him but not by much. Even he briefly recalled rumors about those who’d come from beneath the cliffs. He would sort through them once a calm amount of time rested upon him. He knew she wanted to ensure that she didn’t confuse him with less than necessary details.
Myra sighed because she’d thought over what he asked of her thoroughly, he realized. “I had suspicions occurring to me primarily because of the way that the doomsayers indirectly pointed to me as the one who would bring disaster upon our heads.” She responded with silence before finally telling him, “I’ve realized that it wouldn’t be difficult for them to figure out where the caverns’ escape would lead to several outpourings that’re beneath the cliffs Morley used as his survey-all perch earlier.”
Ah, that was a problem. Carob considered any scenarios and shrugged because he didn’t particularly think a real disaster would occur. At last, he smiled faintly. “I don’t suppose the notion occurred to you that situations such as these are basis for legends of the past and future.” He grimaced when he made the tentative comparison that arose in his mind. “I do recall certain improbable scenarios from which people and creatures shouldn’t have escaped but did.”
Carob waited for her to interrupt him, but Myra didn’t. He drove his point home very calmly. “Some of those situations worked successfully only because of one or two peoples’ memories returning to them and the subsequent willingness to take chances on their recollection.”
He paused and added persuasively, “Also having someone talking rationally can make the difference between death through drowning or release into more difficult waters that lead to ensured safety elsewhere?” Granted that didn’t make a whole lot of sense even to his ears, but he knew she had to see it in that convoluted wording just so that it made sense to her. If it did of course—he wasn’t sure it would.
Relief hit him hard when Myra responded very wryly. “That just gave me something of a headache, but I do recognize the point you’re trying to make.” She lapsed into silence briefly before reluctantly conceding to his commentary. “All right, I’ll do it, but on the concession that your whacked logic made too much sense to me.” Then she dropped the connection between them.
Carob relaxed once he gained that concession from her. A hard-won battle but he knew that she only wanted the best outcome for all involved. As did he and if that meant finding ways to silence the naysayers, he would ask others. As for enforcing the silence, he would do it in order to impose calm for her to proceed in an orderly fashion.
He’d achieved half his goals just in quieting Dorian who had taken over the poling. Another skeptic approached Carob. “If you’ll direct me to listen, I’ll do the poling so that you may rest your arms,” he offered politely.
Carob took him up on his offer. He needed to think about the next courses of action that taken would constitute success or epic failure if not proceeded in the correct order. With that established, he settled into a corner and spoke calmly. “If you can bear it, listen for Myra’s voice.” He watched the young man as he settled into the rhythm of poling and listening, while scanning for treacherous objects that would capsize their rafts.
The young man cast an aghast expression his way. “Is she serious about the whirlpools?” His horrified expression told volumes about the task ahead of him.
Damn exhausted limbs, the young man clearly wasn’t up for the task. He rose to his feet once more with exasperation. “Give me that.” Carob growled. “Yeah, she was telling the truth. If you don’t believe me, ask him.” He indicated Dorian with a jerk of his chin.
Even more annoyed and disgruntled than before, Carob arched an eyebrow at Dorian, challenging him to start speaking now. He’d done his part and therefore someone else with influence that swayed minds had to show his or her true colors in order to keep a rebellion from occurring right now.
He settled into stubborn silence at that point and concentrated on all the rowing he could do, while helping others maintain a very precarious balance. He did keep an ear for what Dorian had to say. He suspected the man was about to shock the knickers off the rest of the increasingly hostile villagers.
As soon as he knew Carob wouldn’t speak and showed he was going to remain quiet, Dorian glanced at the young skeptic. “Sit next to me and observe and don’t say another word,” he snapped in irritation though it wasn’t genuine, merely part of his persona. “If it wasn’t already obvious before, it should be now that she has only our best interests at heart.”
Carob observed as Dorian addressed silent spectators who hadn’t expected his shift in loyalty. “We all have pasts warranting the necessity of sometimes remaining terminally hostile to newcomers.” He met Carob’s gaze and shrugged when he added his weight into the next curving corridor Carob only barely noticed in time.
“I can no longer remain such when I can bring forth skills long suppressed in order to survive the coming tribulations.” That declaration alone did what Carob wasn’t able to do, it proved Dorian’s ability to shake the skeptics into compliance and douse angry suspicions growing from unease within a different environment.
In the end, the only ones who would care to Myra were the ones who proved their loyalty to her, the babes, and the fundamental truth that she embodied despite only being one female. Of course, she wouldn’t like it that he viewed her as that but it was the only way he could explain her presence within their lives right at that particular time.