ARVIL

 

I kept to rocky or frozen ground, not wanting to leave many tracks. I spent part of the night in a tree and built no fire for warmth. The man and the boy were still following me the next morning, and they no longer troubled to conceal themselves. They were keeping well behind me, near the horizon to the south, but always in sight.

I had some meat left in my pouch. Hunting near the home ground of other bands would be risky, and I could not look for food while being tracked. Why were they following me? They had to believe that I was heading back to my band, that they might be attacked if they followed me. Then I remembered Geab’s knife. The man might have seen it while my soul was with the Lady. A man would kill for such a weapon. The two might be waiting to fall upon me before I could join others.

As I made my way through territory where I knew nothing of the nearby bands, I understood how alone I was. We had seen no bands while traveling south, but other men would have hidden themselves from a large band passing on horseback. A lone boy was an easy target. I held to my faith in the Lady, yet I had seen good men die before. I could not know Her will.

A flock of sparrows had alighted on the snow in front of me. They hopped away, took to the air, and flew toward the sky. I thought of my band, lying dead on the plateau, and of their souls now flying toward the heavens. Would the Lady forgive them and accept them? Would She grant them the blessings in the next world that She allowed other living things in this one? Only death would bring us the happiness the sparrows and other creatures enjoyed in this life, for they dwelled with females and their young, while we had only the boys given us by the Lady to raise. We were of the world, yet apart from it, and the sight of animals doing what we could not was one of our punishments for ancient sins.

Once, we had been with the Lady, living in Her realm, and then we had been cast out. My loneliness was unbalancing me, for I was pondering this truth as I walked, hearing a voice inside me questioning it. Had we truly been of the spirit and then forced into our earthly bodies, as I had been told? Or had Earth borne us and given birth to us as She had to all other creatures? Where did the boys who left the enclaves come from?

I tried to silence my questions, knowing that they would only lead to unholiness, but my mind’s voice persisted. Why did the Lady, knowing men were sinful, allow us to live? Why did She give us boys? There was a holy mystery here, and all the words I had heard from older men about the Lady granting us boys so that men would move closer to redemption did not answer my doubts.

We needed the Lady, and She somehow needed us, too. That notion made me draw in my breath. “Silence,” I said aloud to my mind. I looked around hastily, afraid another might have heard, but saw only the patches of melting snow on the brown land that stretched to the horizon.

 

 

I had picked up my pace. I strode quickly, then ran, then slowed to a rapid walk again. In the afternoon, I came to the edge of a wood. Bint had told me that there was a shrine to the east, just beyond this patch of forest, but we had not gone to it because it would have meant a half day’s travel out of our way. If I could get to that shrine, I would be safe for at least one night.

I moved through the woods stealthily, wondering if I was still being followed. The man trailing me might not know about this shrine. I soon came to a pathway, seemingly well-traveled and with the recent marks of feet, that wound among the trees, and I guessed that it led to the shrine. My own trail would not be so obvious on this path, but I would also have to be careful to avoid other travelers. At one point, I heard distant voices and hid in a tree until I could hear them no more. It grew dark and harder for me to see; I was forced to move more slowly.

It was night when I reached the edge of this wood. I was about to step from the trees and walk toward the shrine ahead when its door opened and I saw a group of shadows against the light. I rolled under a bush as the men walked toward me; twigs cracked as they passed by. I held my breath and was not discovered.

Climbing to my feet, I sprinted toward the shrine and was panting by the time I reached it. The door opened, and I stumbled inside, shaking mud and snow from my boots. My stomach ached. I tried not to think of food. My meat would have to last for some time.

I went to the altar. The Warrior dwelled in this shrine. She watched me from behind Her shield as I prayed, and then I went to a couch and donned the Lady’s crown. I called to Her, telling Her of my journey and asking for Her help in finding more food, but She did not speak.

I was tired and drifted into drowsiness. I do not know how long I lay there. The whisper of the door made me start, and I sat up quickly, knowing that I had slept while wearing the circlet. As I took off the crown, the dark man and the boy glanced at me, then went to the altar.

They had followed me here; I trembled with fear and rage. They finished their prayers, went to the couches, and put on circlets. I wanted to run from the shrine, but would be no safer outside. I waited until the man sat up and gazed at me.

“We saw the signs of two bands along the way,” he said. “You didn’t join either.”

I said nothing.

“Maybe yours is farther away than you thought. Or maybe they are hiding from enemies. Or they’re dead, or they broke their bond with you for some reason, or they were forced to move their camp.” As he spoke, I was wondering where his own band was and why he and the boy were still alone.

The man held up his hand, palm out. “Don’t look so angry. We are in a shrine—we cannot hurt each other here. There is always peace in Her presence. Truce.”

The truce would be over once I stepped off holy ground. The man watched me for a while, then gestured to the boy, who opened his small pack and threw me a burnt bird’s wing.

I gnawed at the wing, sucking on the bones after devouring the meat. The man gave me another wing, and I finished that one, too.

“Truce?” he said again.

“Truce,” I answered. “Where is your band?”

The boy narrowed his eyes. The man plucked at his thick, curly beard, scratched his head, and then said, “You are alone, are you not? You must speak the truth here.”

“You must promise me that there will be peace between us when we leave.” I turned toward the statue of the Warrior. “Swear it, by Her.”

Both raised their hands and promised peace, and I swore peace as well. We were now bound by our vow, for we had made it before the Lady.

“I am alone,” I admitted, telling myself that they would not have offered food and then sworn an oath if they meant harm. “The rest of my band is dead.” I sent up a silent prayer to the Lady. I could not lie in a shrine, yet could not admit to these two that I had narrowly escaped Her wrath. “But my guardian, Tal, was not with my band when they died, because he was called to an enclave. I’m going to him now. I prayed to the Lady at the shrine where you first met me, and She called me to Her, and now I am traveling north to find Tal.”

“What is your name?” the man asked.

“Arvil.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is an old name—the meaning is lost.”

“I am Wanderer. I had another name once, but that is how I am known now. The boy is Shadow, because he follows me. I guessed that you had no band near here, for the men in these parts have a different tongue.”

“Where is your band?”

“You see it here.” He waved a hand at Shadow. “We travel by ourselves.”

“But that cannot be.”

“We are here, are we not?” Wanderer reclined on one elbow. “I lost my band as a boy. Since then, I’ve been alone, but I have made peace with many groups. They find me useful because I know the speech and ways and lore of others and can be a messenger or go-between when there is ill feeling between bands. I have dwelled with and hunted with many groups of men, and I have traveled far and can entertain them with tales of my adventures. I have even aided some bands in treating with others so that they do not fight over a herd or a territory. But I have no band of my own.”

“The Lady cannot approve.”

“I am here, saying it before Her. I have been called three times to an enclave, and Shadow was given to me. The Goddess has not condemned me.”

I shook my head, trying to accept this tale. “What do you want with me? Why did you follow me?”

“Because I suspected that you were alone when I first saw you in the Witch’s shrine. I spoke to you in the northern tongue, and you understood and answered me in it. You had been called, and that means you must be especially loved of the Goddess, for one so young is rarely called. Then I wondered how you had come south, for I was certain you could not have made the journey by yourself. What could it be that brought your band south in winter? It could not be a hunt, for you would stay on familiar ground during this season with stored food, to save your strength, and move on in the spring.” He leaned forward. “I have guessed. Your band sought to join those behind the wall on the plateau.” He watched me calmly. “Am I right?”

I refused to answer.

“I saw the judgment from below. The fire blazed brightly. But you escaped somehow and then were called, so the Goddess has pardoned you. You should have nothing to fear from Her, and Shadow and I will do you no harm.”

“But why did you follow me?”

“I grow older,” Wanderer said. “I now need a band, for an old traveler will be of little use to strangers. And you are alone, so you need me. I think we should travel together.”

“I must go to the enclave first and find Tal.” As I spoke his name, I felt again how much I missed him.

“We can travel with you for part of the way. When you find your guardian and come outside, we can become a band if he wishes. If not, we still have our truce. But I think he will agree. After all, he has no band now.”

“I must sleep,” I said, “and consider this.”

“Very well.” He murmured a few words to Shadow, then stretched out, his back to me.

I did not know what to think of his offer. A stranger was saying he would help me, yet my band had always distrusted strangers, and those strangers we had followed had led my band only to death. The Lady had decreed since the beginning of time that only the strong would live and the weak would die, yet here was a man ready to help someone weaker—for I was weaker, whatever blessings the Lady had bestowed on me.

I would have to travel with Wanderer and Shadow. Tal could decide whether we would be a band later. I knew that without Wanderer’s help, I was unlikely to reach my guardian.

 

 

The next morning, I accepted Wanderer’s offer, and we shared most of what was left of my meat. We said our prayers together and put on the circlets once more. The Lady said nothing to me or to Shadow, but Wanderer was given a visitation. As he thrashed about, I recalled my own visitation and longed for another. When Wanderer rose from the couch, he glanced at Shadow and shook his head. I knew by that gesture that he had not been called.

We left the shrine and went north, then turned west, skirting the wood, until we were again following the route I had traveled with Bint. We turned north again and soon came upon a snare in which a rabbit was struggling.

As I took out my metal knife, Wanderer grabbed my hand. “No. I know this kind of snare—a band I have treated with near here set it. We must leave it for them.”

“They won’t know who took it,” I said.

“The Goddess will know, and we may soon meet this band along the way. My truce would be at an end if they saw me with their game, and the snare has marked that rabbit on its limb. Leave it.”

We walked on, satisfying our thirst with handfuls of melted snow, and soon came upon two red-haired young men. I readied my spear, then lowered it as the men greeted Wanderer and Shadow. As Wanderer spoke to them in their own speech, they glared suspiciously at me. I longed to run from the strangers but controlled my fear. I could make out only a few words of their talk; some were northern words, while others resembled the holy speech of the shrine. Most of the words were unfamiliar.

“What is he saying?” I asked Shadow.

“Wanderer says you are his charge and that the Goddess guided you to him.” One of the young men uttered a stream of words. “He says that his camp will give us meat for one of Wanderer’s stories.”

I was astonished. “They will feed us in return for words? You have an easy life.”

“Do not think that, Arvil,” he answered as we followed the young men. “Last season, we were offered food for a story, but that band did not like the tale and drove us away with beatings from their spears. Only our truce with them saved us from death. Usually, it is better to do our own hunting, or to aid a band with theirs in return for a share.”

The men led us to tents on a hillside, where the haunch of a deer was cooking over a fire. Five older men with reddish-brown beards sat with four towheaded boys. As with another band I had once seen, they had grown to resemble one another.

We squatted near the fire to warm ourselves, and Wanderer began his story. He sang the words and, at times, leaped to his feet, waving his arms while his deep voice swelled.

“What is he saying?” I murmured to Shadow.

“This is a new one. He told it to another band a moon ago, and they liked it so much that we got extra portions.”

“What is it about?” Wanderer was kneeling now, bowing toward the ground as he spoke.

“He is telling them of a band far to the south, where it never snows and the water never grows stiff. Once, there was a boy who was the best hunter and the best tracker and the best forager who ever lived. The Goddess loved him so much that he was called to an enclave six times, for his looks were fair and pleasing to all and his spirit was brave. But when he grew older, he became unhappy and went to live in a shrine so that he could always be near the Goddess. Men for many paces around brought him food and pleasured him and prayed with him because they believed he was holy—otherwise, the Goddess would have ordered him from the shrine, as She will if someone tarries there too long.”

The red-haired men were staring at Wanderer, their mouths open. “One day,” Shadow continued in a low voice, “when the man’s own band came to him, they saw that, under his shirt, he had grown breasts. He disrobed before them, and they saw that his member was gone and that he bore the pouch instead.”

Wanderer, still chanting, was holding his arms to the sky.

“Then,” Shadow went on, “the Goddess spoke, and said, ‘This is My Child, in Whom I am well pleased.’ And the man, who had become one of Her aspects, was lifted up and taken to the moon, where he lives with Her in bliss. You can see him there when the moon is full.”

I gaped at him. “Is that true?”

“There is more to it than that,” Shadow said. “Wanderer puts in more details.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It isn’t really true, but Wanderer found out long ago that most bands like a story with bits of truth and a lot of invention more than one that is all true.” He paused. “We did hear a tale from a band long ago about a man who tried to live in a shrine, but the Goddess ordered him away. And some legends say that men once lived on the moon with the Goddess before the Judgment. So part of the story might be true.”

We all knew of the Judgment. Men had sought to rule over the Lady and all Her aspects; that had been our ancient crime. Fire and ice had been sent to punish us, and we had been cast out, condemned to our present lives in bodies of flesh and bone. But I had never heard of men treading the holy orb of the moon.

“Isn’t it wrong to tell such falsehoods?” I asked. “Some of these men might want to live in a shrine, thinking that the Lady will raise them up as well.”

Shadow shook his head. “Only a foolish man would do that. It is a story. They will believe it happened long ago, in another place, but that it has nothing to do with them. Still, it might give them hope, and some may try to serve the Goddess better because of it. I don’t think She would mind a story that honors Her.”

Wanderer finished his story, uttering the last words in the holy speech. The red-haired men smiled and clapped and gave us generous portions of their meat along with dried plants.

We slept in their tents that night and left in the morning.

 

 

We traveled on together for four days. My mind held the images of streams where I had stopped for water on my way to the plateau, and Wanderer had traveled in these lands before. The snow had melted, and we did not have to crack ice to get our water. We lived on the fish we caught at these streams.

I was beginning to feel a bond of friendship with Shadow. I had been called, as he had not, and he respected me for that, but he had traveled to many places with his guardian, and I could honor him for his courage. Shadow said little about his life, but I felt easy with him, as if he had always been part of my band. Perhaps Shadow, having spent so much of his life among strangers, knew how to ease the suspicions and fears of another.

We shared no pleasures together, for it was now the Lady I longed for most, though we did sometimes speak of the Lady’s blessings; he had received Her blessings before in faraway shrines. I was sure that the Lady would call such a good soul to Her before long.

On the fifth day, we met men of another band, and one of their number recognized Wanderer. They renewed their truce, and we were taken to the hollowed-out cave that was this band’s camp. I could understand most of their speech and was able to hear another story of Wanderer’s without Shadow’s aid.

This story was of a man who had killed a doe. The doe’s orphaned fawn cried out to the Lady as the doe lay dying, and the Lady, clothed as the Warrior, hunted the man down for his crime and killed him with rays of fire. The fawn, under Her protection, grew into a doe and lived with that man’s band, which no longer hunted does with young.

This band did not seem to like the story. Their Headman scowled as he threw a small piece of meat to us. Wanderer quickly told another story of other men in the south who lived by a great, salty body of water and caught fish with nets given to them by the Lady, Who had blessed them with an easy life but had also cursed them by calling few to Her side. This tale earned us one more piece of meat.

We had not gone far from that camp when Wanderer stopped and made us kneel. “We must pray,” he said. “We must give thanks that those men liked the second tale I told, and we must ask for guidance.” He put his hands on our shoulders and began to chant. “As the doe rules the buck, as the cow gives life to the calf, as the stallion must fight for the mare, as the spider weaves her web of beauty and death, so do You rule us, and so do we serve You. Guide this boy Arvil to Your side and bless us all.”

We stood up. “I have not been this far north in many seasons,” Wanderer went on, “and we will be in more danger. Some of those who knew me may be dead, and their truces with me would then be at an end. Arvil, you will have to help in guiding us.”

His words frightened me. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I think we should travel to a shrine for safety, but we will have to avoid other bands.”

I thought for a moment. “There is another shrine to the Warrior in the west. My band was there two springs ago, and the men near it will stay by their river in this season.” I paused. “But we’ll be farther from the enclave, and I must get there soon, or…”

“I know.” Wanderer might have abandoned me then; we had a truce, but he owed me nothing more. “How far to this shrine?”

“From here, it should be a day’s walk, but we can’t reach it before night.”

“Then we must be quick.”

I looked at Wanderer gratefully as we set off at a trot toward the trees to the west.

 

 

The Lady’s moonlight guided us through the thickening trees, but soon clouds and the evergreen branches overhead hid our path. We were forced to move more slowly, afraid of losing our way.

Suddenly, a twig cracked. Men leaped upon us.

I knocked one attacker aside and heard a grunt, then blocked a blow with my spear. Another man was near me; I grasped my knife and thrust it at him. He shrieked; my metal blade had drawn blood. Pine needles whispered as feet pounded away; there was a shout in the distance.

“Come,” I muttered to Wanderer. I was surprised that we had driven off our attackers so quickly but knew that we had to reach the shrine before they came at us again.

I heard a moan. Wanderer bent over a dark, huddled shape. “Shadow is hurt,” Wanderer said.

“We must go.”

He picked up the boy and threw him over his shoulder. Shadow groaned. I led the way, trying to keep to the path. Wanderer was soon panting under his burden, for Shadow, though young, was already quite tall.

“Leave me,” I heard Shadow say.

“No,” I said before Wanderer could reply; I would not abandon my new friend so quickly. Just as I was beginning to think we would never find the shrine, I saw it ahead in a clearing. The golden dome glowed faintly.

We hurried toward the shrine and were soon inside. Wanderer put Shadow down on the floor and opened his jacket, feeling for wounds. I saw much blood. Shadow pressed his lips together, trying not to cry out.

“Will he be all right?” I asked.

“Be quiet, lad.”

“We must pray. Perhaps the Lady…”

“It is a time to act, not to pray,” Wanderer replied. “The Goddess will understand.” It came to me that Wanderer often seemed willing to state what the Lady might think.

After pulling up Shadow’s torn and bloodied leather shirt, Wanderer found the wound, an ugly gash under one rib. Blood oozed from this gash as Wanderer examined it. “Arvil, you must go out and gather kindling and wood.”

“But the strangers… they might…”

“Get the wood, boy. If you’re quick, they won’t catch you.”

I went out and gathered the wood, wondering what the man wanted with it. Shadow’s wound had looked deep; it might not heal at all. When I returned, Wanderer took out his flints and soon had a small fire going just outside the doorway of the shrine. The door remained open, and I sat with him, watching as he reached inside his pack, removed a small pot with a handle, and filled it with water from his skin.

We were safe for now. Even if the fire in the open doorway attracted other men, we were on holy ground. “Where did you get that?” I said as I gestured at the pot.

“From a man I had to kill. I expect he took it from a scavenger.” He stripped off his leather hand-coverings and washed his hands. When the water in the pot bubbled, Wanderer handed the pot to me and took out a small leather pouch. He sprinkled a few herbs into the water.

“Hold that pot.” He scrubbed at his hands again. “Now watch me, boy, and learn. A band south of that cursed plateau gave me this substance—it cleans wounds and keeps the blood from becoming poisoned. It can be gathered, if you know where to look for it.”

He rummaged in one pocket and took out something else. “Cloth,” he said, waving it at me before dropping it into the water. Stel had worn garments of such a material when he had been brought to my band. “Another man gave this to me.” Taking the wet cloth out, he leaned over Shadow and bathed his wound. The boy smiled a little, as if trying to reassure us. Then Wanderer took out a bone needle, the thinnest one I had ever seen, threaded it with a long, thin piece of gut, and dipped that into the pot of hot water.

“Now,” he said, “I am going to sew up the gash.”

“Sew it?”

“Wounds, like rips in leather, can be sewn. In a few days, I’ll cut the stitches out with the edge of my knife, but the knife must be clean, and the wound will have to be bathed again.” He gazed at Shadow. “It’s going to hurt you.”

The boy gritted his teeth. I watched as Wanderer sewed. Shadow reached for my sleeve and held it tightly. He moaned a little but did not cry out.

“There. It is done.” Wanderer bathed the wound with the cloth once more, then poured out the few drops of water left and put away his tools. I put out the fire and covered the burned wood with dirt.

The door slid shut behind me as I came back inside; we carried Shadow to the nearest couch. Wanderer and I said our prayers at the Warrior’s altar, then donned the circlets, but heard no words from the Lady.

Wanderer glared at me as he took off his circlet. “You told me that the men near here would stay by their river.”

I felt ashamed. “I thought they would. They never attacked my old band, even though we had no truce, as long as we didn’t approach their camp and took only what game we needed.”

“You have given poor advice, Arvil.” I thought that he might strike me, but he did not. “Did you draw blood?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bad. It means, if that man dies, they might return and wait for us to leave holy ground. If they find that we are alone, and we cannot reach a truce, they’ll kill us.”

“Then we must leave now.” We would be safer away from the shrine, where the strangers might expect us to stay.

“We cannot leave. Shadow must rest until he is healed. He’s lost much blood already. If he is moved now, he’ll bleed again.”

“How long?”

“Two days, maybe three. He is strong and should be able to travel at a slow pace by then.”

“But you said those men might come here.”

“Then we must pray that they don’t. I cannot leave my charge.”

I had to get to the enclave; I could not wait three days. I sat on the edge of my couch and stared at the floor, afraid to look at Wanderer.

He said, “You know what you must do.”

I looked up. “I can stay. I will hunt for your food.”

“You cannot stay. Your first duty is to the Lady. You have to leave us.”

I knew he was right. “I’ll come back for you,” I said, unable to believe my own words, sure that they would both be dead by then. Tal would never travel here for the sake of men he did not know.

I stood up. “Good-bye, Wanderer. Shadow, farewell.” I swallowed hard. “May the Lady protect you.”

“And may you reach Her enclave safely,” Wanderer said.

As I turned from them, our enemies entered the shrine.

 

 

There were seven men in this group. As the door closed behind them, they knelt quickly and made signs in the direction of the altar. One of the strangers was injured; a bloodied arm in a torn sleeve hung at his side. Another man caught him as he fell toward the floor.

“A truce while we speak,” Wanderer said in the holy speech, and then repeated the words in my language.

“There is always peace in Her presence,” a man with a gray beard answered in my tongue.

“You have injured the boy there.” Wanderer pointed at Shadow. “But I’ve hastened his healing, and I can tend to your companion’s wound. I must speak truth here—I know some healing arts.” The graybeard frowned. “I must tend to him before he loses more blood. Give me a truce, and I’ll heal him.”

The graybeard nodded. “Truce. Until you heal him. We swear a truce by the Lady. But if Firemaker dies, we must take a life from you outside.”

I would be the one to die, for I had led my companions here; Wanderer would never let them take Shadow.

The strangers helped their wounded companion to a couch while Wanderer rummaged in his pack, then told me to gather more wood.

I built another fire outside the door. Wanderer stripped off the man’s shirt, and I saw the gash my knife had made; the wound was ugly, but not as deep as it might have been. I began to hope. Wanderer took out a piece of cloth and tied the man’s arm above his wound.

“What is that?” the graybeard asked.

“He mustn’t lose more blood,” Wanderer said. “I’ll loosen this in a little while and see if the bleeding has stopped. Heat more water, Arvil.”

When the water bubbled, Wanderer bathed the arm. Firemaker’s jaw tightened above his short brown beard; his large blue eyes showed fear rather than pain. I had seen wounds washed before, but never as Wanderer cleaned them, with water heated over a fire. The men I had lived with had washed with what water they had, and if a wound festered, that was the Lady’s will.

Wanderer loosened the cloth, then peered at the arm. “You are fortunate,” he said. “Your muscles aren’t cut so badly that you cannot use your arm again, and the blood isn’t pulsing from your wound, but I’ll have to sew it closed if you’re to heal.” He took out his bone needle again and dipped it into the water I had carried to him.

“What unholiness is this?” the graybeard asked.

“Do you think I would practice unholiness in a shrine?” Wanderer bent over Firemaker. “You’ve pledged to take one of our lives if I cannot heal him. You must let me do what I can.”

I looked down, praying silently for Firemaker’s life and my own.