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“DUN, THIS IS YOUR FATHER’S map,” Ardg said. “It is one of the Bridge-folk’s greatest treasures. Take good care of it.”
They sat in the Moot-hall in a rough circle, gathered around a low table that had been brought in. They all leaned in close, heads down, and reached out to touch a large roll of gossamer-thin bark, weighed down by a stone at one end, and an odd metal found-thing at the other. Dun could still pick up traces of his father’s scent. He swallowed. The entire surface of the scroll was inscribed in a complex and extremely skillful fashion. Dun, Padg, Ardg, the tribe leader, Barg, Swych, Myrch, and even Ebun the village Skald was there, in his capacity of historian for the tribe. The intensity in the hut was almost palpable.
“So where are we again, relative to the river?” Padg asked. Map reading was never his strong point.
‘Feel! Here!’ Swych guided Padg’s hand to the place on the map representing the village. She much preferred teaching Padg fighting. That, at least, he had some aptitude for.
Dun was lost in thought. First, in fascination at the detail and craft that had gone into the map’s making, then in an effort to try and absorb the details necessary for their journey. His fingertips traced the beautiful details: his father had an artist’s touch. All of the world as the Bridge-folk knew it was on here. The river stretching off up the map, territories of their nearest neighbors: River-folk, Myconid-folk, Wind-folk, Stone-folk; arrows and symbols off the map indicating where, at the best guess, other tribes lived. The mysterious trading Deep-folk with all their wonderful found things, the odd distant and uncommunicative Tunnel-folk and their home, the Pipe Forest, the fabled Fire-folk far upstream, and then farthest upstream, just an arrow and a label for the Machine-folk. Slowly but surely, it was sinking into place and for Dun, this was something for which he had an aptitude.
There was one more thing about the map, though. It was a piece of his father. The writing, the phrasing of jotted comments and notes.
“The village is near-bank, here.”
Everything on the village side of the river was always referred to as “near-bank”, everything across the bridge, the side Dun’s house was on, was called “far-bank”.
Dun carried on. “And the map is aligned downstream at the bottom and upstream at the top. The map maker has drawn a symbol in the river, like an arrowhead to show the water flow. It’s really clever, really.”
“You know no one likes a smartass, right?” Padg shot back.
“You’ll get it,” Dun said, trying not to sound patronizing.
“I’ve got a feeling I might not ever really get it, but as long as you do...” He lifted his head up to address the whole group. “So, not to be rude, but moving along from examining the map, what do we need to know about what’s on it?”
Short, thought Dun, but to the point.
Swych began the Elders’ reply. “Right, now you know which way is upstream. You want to begin with the path that runs along the river. It goes some way, but like most things on the map, we can’t tell how it will be now. This map is quite old.”
“Sorry,” Padg said. “I thought Dun’s father had done this one?”
“He did not begin it,” Swych said. “And many have scratched its surface.”
Ardg chipped in, “Yes, this map is quite a treasure of the tribe, really. Although there’s a copy of it, you will take the original with you. It has been updated and altered many times in its life and while the fact that we need you to take good care of it and return it goes without saying, we would also ask you to take something else on your journey.”
He pressed something thin, short metal into Dun’s hand.
“This is your father’s stylus. It has been sharpened for you. Please update the map as you can. Knowledge of our world is something that has always set the Bridge-folk apart from our peers. The map, so far as we know, is the most complete one in existence. We would like you to continue that task.
Dun said, “That would be our... err...”
“Honor?” Padg offered.
“Good,” Swych said. “The map is of great tactical importance to us all. Now, you may well meet our nearest neighbors, the River-folk. You will certainly be within their territory once you are a span away from here, so if nothing else you will be being monitored. We are at peace with all our neighbors, but the River-folk are not really to be trusted.”
“Have never really been trusted,” Ebun said as the subject crossed into his field. “The trouble with the River-folk is that they don’t really believe in setting out life the way we do. They have trouble with our concepts of family, tribehood, ownership. Things like that. They know to behave themselves when they come here trading, but on their own land, they set the law. What law there is.”
“If you can get through their territory without a meeting, that would be an advantage, but you’ll be there three or more spans so it may be difficult to avoid them,” Swych said.
“I could write a scroll to carry with you saying you’re on tribe business; it may help avoid trouble,” Ardg said. “It’s a shame we’re so far from a market gathering; we could have asked one of their representatives then. No matter, needs must now.”
“Next on your route,” Swych continued, “if you continue to follow the river, you’ll pass by the land of the Tunnel-folk and the Stone-folk on either side. Tunnel-folk on near-side, Stone-folk far-side. The actual river land at this point is disputed. Obviously, the River-folk think it’s theirs, but the Tunnel-folk and Stone-folk go down to fish and use water so there’s a kind of informal truce. The Tunnel-folk are fairly reclusive; you’ll be unlikely to meet them. Although again, they’re usually inquisitive and thorough, so they’ll know you’re there. Stone-folk are fairly formal to deal with but predictable. They will insist on a meeting with their Alpha if you run into them. You could use a formal scroll there too; they hold great store by such things. Then the Fire-folk.” Swych paused at this point. The Skald filled the gap then.
“The legends say the Fire-folk were forged in the great vents of their home, explaining both their temper and their fierceness in battle,” Ebun began.
Swych jumped in. “I, however, have not found them so. They come to the markets to trade, seem to behave themselves well enough and bring interesting trade goods.”
“What do they bring?” Dun asked.
“Good question. They bring stones and minerals mostly, of great interest to the alchemists,” Swych replied.
“And what do they mostly trade for?”
“Often food goods, edible fungus mainly. Sometimes our woven goods.”
“What happens farther north of the Fire-folk?” Dun said, warming to his role.
A brief period of silence was followed by Ardg. “We don’t really know.”
“Our maps cannot be considered accurate after that point,” Swych said.
“Haven’t we ever traveled that far?” Padg asked, slightly mystified.
“No, not really. The trading that has taken place with the Machine-folk has been here; they have traveled to us.”
“So no one has been there and returned to tell of it?” Dun could hear Padg’s rising sense of adventure.
“Again only legends,” Ebun said. “Magical machines with incredible powers...”
Swych cut him off again. “There are always legends. But as you rightly deduce, Padg, there is little store to be set by them, and fewer still facts to corroborate. We hope your journey may add to our knowledge.”
“So, in brief,” Padg said, “we are being sent on a journey far upstream, with a map that’s far from accurate, through territories in disagreement, in order to find a mythical land we know nothing about through gods-only-know-what dangers?”
“A bleak, but reasonably fair summation of the facts,” Ardg replied.
Padg drew breath to reply but never finished. A loud urgent clang from the center of the village and Macky burst into the Moot-hall.
“Raiders!” he yelled.
“What? Who?” Ebun said.
“Irrelevant,” Swych said. Then to Macky, she said, “Militia?”
“Done.”
“Where?”
“Bridge.”
“How many?”
“Dozens?”
“Arm up,” Swych said. “To me!”
She rushed out of the door; the sounds of weapons and shouting rushed in.
Padg, Dun, and Tali stood.
“Not you three,” the Alpha said.
“But...” Padg said.
“No,” Ardg said firmly. “Your path is elsewhere. Myrch?”
“Quick. This way. Packs, map. Now!” He led them out of a hatch behind the Alpha’s chair and down a narrow passage, silent once the hatch had closed.
“What the hells?” Tali said.
“Not now,” Myrch said.
“Who?” Padg said.
“River-folk,” Myrch said, “now run!”
The passage disgorged them downstream of Dun’s house. Dun recognized the feel of the ledge. They could hear echoing sounds of combat still. Occasional alto shouts that could have been Swych. It sounded brutal. Dun shivered.
“Damn,” said Myrch. “You, wait here.”
And with a splosh he was off.
“The natives...now there’s something. ‘The folk’ they call themselves. Mammals, sure, but what kind I dunno. Biology was never my strong suit.”
Excerpts from <Distress Beacon SN-1853001>. Found by E.S.V. Vixen Terradate: 26102225.
