Wood of Faerie
"Wood of Faerie? I have heard of no such thing," Chiapos replied, realizing that he was going to have to be sharp to keep his staff away from the thief.
"Not all tales are from your Challengelore, my boy," Samarin answered, his eyes never leaving the stick. It was as if he were assessing and estimating what value the Redeemer would fetch on the open market. "Wood of Faerie is said to come from trees that grow in distant lands far beyond the Great Endless Sea. These trees are tended to by a magical race of people who carefully imbue the seedlings with special fertilizers and nutrients. When these trees come of age, they are hewn down and milled into an assortment of products that all possess extraordinary properties. I believe your Redeemer comes from such a tree."
"And you thought that my story was wild!" Chiapos quipped. "How could a branch from a magical tree end up in the middle of the Tester? Even you, yourself, said that these trees come from far beyond Mallog’mor’ach!"
"Then you explain to me the powers of your staff?" Samarin retorted. "Do the trees of Rainwater protect the people by spraying fire onto any pillager who may come by?"
"No, of course not!" Chiapos said. He was intrigued by the idea that his Redeemer came from a far away land and was grown by a magical race. His Challenge was getting to be epic. He would be long remembered in the annals of Rainwater.
"Of course, they are not. They are ordinary trees such as the ones that surround us now," Samarin gestured at the forest that circled them. He was careful not to draw his hands too close to the Redeemer. "How did you get this stick? Did Cenan give it to you?"
"I thought that you didn't believe that Cenan exists."
"I didn't. But then again I did not think that Wood of Faerie existed either. But my eyes and my hands tell me a whole different story. Did she give it to you?"
"No, I came by it myself, here in the Tester."
"I have roamed this forest for thirty years and I have seen every hill and dale in it and yet I have never stumbled upon such a staff as yours. I have never come across an old hag either."
"Then you must have had your eyes closed for thirty years for I certainly did not go out looking for what I have found. I just came upon the Redeemer, just like I came upon the Appointed Servant. It was just pure good fortune, I guess."
"Or maybe they came and found you?" Samarin said, squinting his eyes as if he were sizing Chiapos up.
"Huh?" Chiapos did not understand the comment. Why would these people and things look him up?
"Who are you?" Samarin asked. It appeared that his eyes were studying every detail of Chiapos' physique.
"You already know me." Chiapos replied, wondering what the rogue was getting at. "I'm Chiapos, son of Chakka of Rainwater. You know that. Goodness knows you have taken every opportunity available to slander my people."
"You truly swear that you are not high-born or the materialization of some obscure Challengelore prophecy?"
"There are no prophecies in the Challengelore. As a teacher, you should be well versed in that. I am just an average human being. Other than having a few extraordinary experiences, there is nothing special about me."
"Rainwatermen don't stumble upon historical if not mythical characters. They do not find magical sticks in places where these sticks should never be. If you are not high-born nor a fulfillment of some prophecy, then there has to be some other reason why you are being sought out." Chiapos sensed that Samarin was speaking in earnest and that this was not some ploy to sidetrack him into being sloppy in the defense of his Redeemer.
"You are filling my head with grandiose thoughts and illusions of grandeur, my silver-tongued thief. I am only an ordinary fellow and nothing more. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to continue my Challenge. I have no score to settle with you or any reason to keep you in my company. I bid you farewell but I warn you, I will not tolerate any scheme of yours to try and waylay me along my route. My Redeemer may not be so friendly to you next time."
Chiapos turned his back slowly on Samarin. He was on the lookout for any conspicuous movement on the thief's part. Samarin remained perfectly still and Chiapos started to walk away in the direction that would lead him out of the Tester.
He had not travelled more than a hundred feet when he heard Samarin running up behind him. "I told you that I did not want to see you any more!" he said sharply to the highwayman.
"This is my direction too," Samarin answered. "You don't expect me to sit back there and wait while you get out of this forest, do you? Besides if you are a Rainwaterman, you are guaranteed to lose your way. You will need a guide."
"Guides are not supposed to be used on the Challenge. I have to find my own way about. I don't need somebody to tell me which way to go. I especially do not need a guide with your low moral standing." Chiapos realized that he was not going to be able to be so easily ridden of Samarin.
"Then I won't be your guide," Samarin chimed. "I will be your follower."
"Follower?"
"Something inside of me tells me that you are bound for great destiny. Someone has got to be around to chronicle your adventures and because I am a man of education, I think I am more than qualified to record your story."
The words were very flattering and boosted Chiapos' impression that he was going to be the protagonist of one of the greatest adventures in the Challengelore yet he knew that he was dealing with a less than reputable character in Samarin. The rogue's true and only motive was to get his hands on the Redeemer and to probably kill him in the process or shortly thereafter. He could not trust the man. It dawned on him that Samarin may be more trustworthy when he is in sight than when he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was best to have him tag along for a short distance. Maybe afterwards he would be able to rid himself of this troublesome fellow. "Very well, you may come along with me but I warn you in advance that if I even slightly come to suspect that you are trying to take my advantage, you will taste the wrath of my Redeemer."
"I promise you that you will not be sorry in making this decision," Samarin cooed. "All of Mallog’mor’ach will hear of the saga of Chiapos of Rainwater as told by Samarin the Wordsmith!"
"I can be my own chronicler, thank you," Chiapos said coolly. "Challengelore is handed down through the word of mouth from Rainwaterman to Rainwaterman. We don't need outside scribes to tell us our stories." He picked up his remaining articles and said, "Come on now, we are wasting the day."
"You can't start a travel on an empty stomach. We must eat first," Samarin protested.
"My stomach is not empty but it is my feet that are complaining of lack of exercise. We must be off now. You can eat as we walk."
"You'll be sorry that you did not heed my words, I warn you," Samarin grumbled. But it was the rogue who was surprised six hours later after a continuous march that the Rainwaterman did not once stop for food or water. He didn't even relieve himself.
They had come to a hill that slowly ambled upwards for more than a mile. "On the other side of that slope, the Tester finally comes to its end," Samarin announced. He was nibbling on some waybread that he carried in his pocket. He had offered some to Chiapos but was turned down flatly. "Are you some bewitched creature?" he cried. "No man can go so far without having to refresh himself!"
"I'm not hungry," Chiapos replied. "The only thing I crave is to be out of this forest. Just past this hill, eh?"
Samarin nodded.
"Well, I have had enough of this forest. Let's run so that we could be out of it faster!" Chiapos started to dash.
"Are you crazy? I'm not as young of a man as I used to be!" Samarin cried. "If I run my chest will give out on me. I'm walking!"
"Then I will see you on the other side!" Chiapos laughed, not breaking his near gallop stride.
The Tester was thinning out rapidly. The tall stands of aspen and birch and balsam were giving way to thickets of thorny bramble that ripped at his flesh. But the Rainwaterman ran on, not letting this perturb him. He wanted out of the forest. The distance between him and Samarin had greatened immensely and he thought that maybe he should just continue running and be forever rid of the woodsman. Taking a quick glance behind him, he saw that Samarin was only plodding along, not making any effort towards swift movement.
And for a reason for the life of him he could not understand, Chiapos stopped dead in his tracks and waited for the suspected murderer to catch up. "You are starting to like me, eh Chiapos?" Samarin wheezed.
Chiapos could only look away and cursed himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity. What he saw ahead of him almost made him fall down from dizziness. It was a large open expanse with very few trees. The only thing that hovered above was a huge blue sky that seemed to go on forever. It was quite the unsettling difference from the cloying, clinging trees that kept the sky hidden back in the forest. He felt a twinge of vertigo from this sight. His mindsight had lost the ability to cope with limitless horizons.
"You are finally out of the Tester!" Samarin said. He too was shielding his eyes from the overbearing brightness of the sun.
Old Man Kray
"There were times that I thought that I would never see open country again. I spent so many days in that forsaken forest that I forgot what the sun or a cloud looked like," Chiapos commented. He realized that it was the first noncondescending remark he had made to the rogue. Somehow now that he was removed from the gloominess of the forest, the shadiness in Samarin's character seemed less pronounced to the Rainwaterman.
"Believe me, there will be times along the road to Tanejul that you will wish to have the comforting shelter of the Mammoth's trees again,” the highwayman responded. He was still partially winded from trying to catch up to Chiapos during the last stretches of the Tester.
"Why? I don't recall that there are any hazards along the road between the Tester and Tanejul,” Chiapos quickly reviewed his Challengelore.
"You have never been here before yourself, young fellow. How would you know?" Samarin remarked. "It is not only weather and animals that can be dangerous. The people of Tanejul are not as friendly to strangers as they once may have been back in the heyday of your Rainwater Challenges."
"Well, I guess with highwaymen and rogues the likes of you and your dead partner roaming about unchecked, I would be leery of extending hospitality myself to any newcomer who wanders into town," Chiapos retorted.
"Villains have always been around since time immemorial. Tanejul has always tolerated them, in fact the city has often been their lair and den and many of Tanejul's most upstanding citizens at one point or other in their lives, had to live the unsavoury life of the street." Samarin said, he had taken his hands away from his eyes. Apparently he had grown adjusted to the new brightness. "No, it is not because there are highwaymen afoot why there is an air of suspicion in that town."
"Then, what is it?" Chiapos demanded.
"I think that you might have come across it in your travails in the Tester. You said something about Auras in Ascension. Back then when you told me about them, I played ignorant but now when I can see that you might be a salvation to the current crisis, I can tell you that the town of Tanejul has fallen under some evil curse of late. The aqueducts that irrigated the homes of that town have gone dry and many people have fallen ill and died from the diseases that accompany a lack of water. The crops do not grow well and often fail. The air is not as crisp and clear as what you behold ahead of you. It is brown and thick and painful to the lungs. The town elders are at a loss to explain what has befallen Tanejul and the only explanation that seems to hold any credence is that the strangers who steadily arrive into the town have brought all this malaise with them. But I am not in agreement with their assessment on this matter at all." Samarin stopped and looked Chiapos directly in the eyes. "I think that it is something more than just a cyclical plague that has turned this once forward and prosperous city into a haven of suspicion. I think that some evil force has taken grip of Tanejul and has remolded it into something sinister and threatening. I think that your Aura in Ascension has somehow made Tanejul go foul."
Chiapos carefully considered all that Samarin had said. It was chilling news to him and it dullened the spectacle of the bright day in his mind. "My impression of what Cenan had said is that these Auras are forest spirits. I don't think that they would be concerned with what goes on in the cities."
"What you forget is that at one time all the lands of Mallog’mor’ach were covered in forests. A forest is more than just its trees."
"A forest is nothing but trees!" Chiapos scoffed as he started to walk through sedge grasses that scratched at his ankles.
Samarin was keeping pace with him. "How many trees make up a forest? Is a forest any less a forest if it has ninety-nine trees rather than a hundred? No. It is essentially the same. What about a forest with ninety-eight trees or ninety-seven? Are they not still forests? So at what point does a forest stop being a forest? You can carry this process right down to the point where there are no trees at all on a tract of land and it would still be a forest as long as at one period of time there was an expanse of trees there on the location."
"What are you getting at?"
"I am saying that even though there may be no trees in a city, the forest spirits may still dwell there," Samarin said, narrowing his eyes. "The Aura in Ascension, as you call it, will not grant immunity to a place like Tanejul even if there are no trees there. Which by the way is untrue . There are many trees in Tanejul especially in the Montoo District along the Gibbins River. It is a sight to behold as I am sure that you are well aware from your many tales in the Challengelore."
"How long will it be before we get there?"
"It will be many days, I am afraid. We are leagues to the north and we may encounter the snows before we reach the city."
At the word snows, Chiapos felt that Samarin was being preposterous. It was so warm in the morning sun that the idea that the warm weather was on the wane and that winter was just around the corner just did not seem viable. But even though the cicadas were dancing on the grass tops and piercing the air with their electric buzzing, Chiapos knew that these were the days that were summer's last celebrations for the year. The chills that he felt at night could only deepen as the sun started to spend less time above the horizon. The idea depressed him and he did not want to think about it any more. He walked in silence.
Although the terrain was refreshing when compared as a counterstroke to the Tester, he soon started to find that it was getting a tad monotonous. The horizon never appeared to be getting any closer nor did it ever vary in what elements comprised it. But now and then, he would turn his head backwards and see that the Tester was slowly drifting away from view as the sun was climbing towards its zenith.
They had walked for most of the morning along the flat sedge grasses. He had commented to Samarin that it would drive him mad if he were to have to live in such a dreary area. Samarin had replied that these prairies, as he called them, gave birth to strong, stalwart men who held a far vision into what the secrets of existence were. "Obviously, you were not born on the prairies," Chiapos laughed.
It was early in the afternoon when upon the distant horizon that lay ahead along their path, Chiapos started to make out what appeared to be the home of one of these stalwart men. It was still more than a mile away but already Chiapos could determine that the house which appeared to be modest in size was made up of materials that were not indigenous to the prairies. The Tester had long ago disappeared from view and it had been hours since they last saw any sign of a tree yet this house was made of logs, thick, thick logs. Perhaps they used oxen to haul these behemoth beams but he could not see any beasts of burden in his span of view.
"That would be the homestead of Kray and his sons," Samarin said. "They are hardworking men of the soil and they don't take kindly to folks like you and I who are not so husbanded to the land. We are best to stay clear of this place." He started to veer his path so that it would arc around the house.
"I would think that people who live so isolated and in such a desolate place would be happy to spend some time with others," Chiapos said while staying true to his original course, a path straight to the lonesome house.
"Not Kray. He would just as soon not see another human being for the rest of his livelong days."
Chiapos looked at his companion and saw a trace of anxiousness revealed by the sweat on his brow. "You seem to know a lot about a man who wishes to be alone. Is this Kray a former victim of yours?"
The sweaty brow furrowed. "Don't be so coy, Rainwaterman. When you have traveled as much as I have, you do tend to remember some of the characters that you meet along your path. Kray and his kindred regard everybody with suspicion. They fear for their livestock and their other possessions even though it would take a horde of nervy highwaymen to overcome that fortress of theirs. Come follow me, we are starting to get within eyesight of anybody inside of that house."
"No, I won't. This is my Challenge and I dictate what route it takes," Chiapos said defiantly, if not childishly, and walked boldly towards the house. His early impression was confirmed. It was a house made of thick timbers and it was made on a larger scale than he originally had believed. No home in Rainwater came anywhere near the size of this prairie structure. It had to be at least forty feet in length and twenty in width and had a thatched roof that stood another twenty feet above the ground. And the incredible thing was that it was all made of wood not like the Rainwater dwellings which were mostly composed of dried muds and animal skins. Even the door to the house was made of wood. The thickness of the timbers attested that they could have only come from the Tester, which was at least half a day's walk from this location. How did Kray and his family ever manage to transport these beams? There was still no sign of any oxen but it had to be oxen. No man could have hauled these logs.
Yet for all of its size, this prairie house was very simple in construction. It was just logs piled upon each other, held in place by interlocking the adjoining walls and using long stakes to support the middles. The logs were sealed with a rich layer of mud.
As he got closer to the dwelling he could see that there was an outbuilding behind that had been previously shielded from his sight by the house. It was modest in size when compared to the house, yet it was as big as any home in Rainwater and completely made of wood as well. Chiapos concluded that this was some form of storage structure. It probably held all manner of tools to work the land. Kray and his family most assuredly were believers in hard toil.
He drew upon the house and was growing apprehensive of Samarin's warnings. Men that work as hard as the Krays were likely to protect their homestead at any cost from intruders. But there was only a stillness in the air. There was no sound coming from inside at all.
A bird darted by him, moving so swiftly that he did not have the chance to identify it. But the whir of its wings was enough to give him a start and he suddenly became aware of the Redeemer in his hands. He had pulled it out without even being aware of doing so. Feeling the sturdy wooden grains in his staff, he felt himself grow reassured. As long as he had this weapon, he need not fear anything.
There was the thud, thud, thud of footsteps behind him and as he turned he saw Samarin coming up to him.
"I thought that you did not want to get any where near this place?" Chiapos commented.
There was fear in Samarin's eyes. "There's something wrong here," the highwayman said. "Old Man Kray and his boys should have been out here to greet us a long time ago."
"So why do you look so scared?" Chiapos grinned, feeling pleased that he had overcome his own fear. "I thought that you would be happy that Kray was not around."
"Kray should be around. He never leaves his home and if he did, one of his sons would be here standing guard. Even his livestock are not here! This place is usually so jammed with goats and buffalo, that you can't take a step without getting your boots smothered in their droppings. If you look around, all the dung has dried up and is practically dirt. To me, that tells me that Kray and his family have not been here for quite some time." Samarin spoke very nervously, his eyes and ears were constantly searching for any movement amongst the silent buildings of the homestead.
Chiapos would be no part of this anxiety even though he was clutching the Redeemer more tightly. "When was the last time you were around here?" he asked.
"Maybe a year ago. Maybe two."
"By the looks of these sedge grasses, they don't look like they would satisfy a grasshopper let alone a buffalo. Maybe your Kray has moved on to better pastures."
"That's not the way of Kray and his family. They have held this prairie land for many generations. They cling to it the same way as these sedge grasses do which by the way are very satisfying to the buffalo. Even if Old Man Kray had died himself, his sons would still be here. There is no way that all of them would have abandoned this land. Something very terrible has happened here."
"Maybe they were waylaid by some highwaymen," Chiapos said, thinking that it was odd that a man who had spent the better part of his life robbing and killing would be feeling so appalled at the thought that an isolated family may have been murdered out here in the wilds.
"I already told you that Kray and his boys were more than capable of defending themselves and drive away any would-be accosters. There is something evil here, I can feel it in my bones." Samarin started to walk away from the house.
""Where are you going?" Chiapos cried. "We have got to investigate." He grabbed Samarin by his coat and halted him flat in his tracks. "Come with me." He forcibly shoved Samarin towards the structure.
Holding the Redeemer as an insurance against harm, Chiapos made his way towards the door. A multitude of decaying spider webs, each holding dozens of insect carcasses, caressed the wooden entrance. A dead mouse that lay just off to the side was producing an offensive odour that made both men gag. Using his trustworthy staff, Chiapos flung the tiny carcass far out into the field. The only sound that could be heard was the steady chirping of crickets that had found shelter in the building's footings.
Chiapos pushed against the door and it did not move. He pushed again, this time with some more effort. The stubborn door gave somewhat but still did not produce enough of an opening for a man to get through. However, the opening was large enough to allow a rush of very stale, dusty air to come through which once again started the men to reel. But the opening did not give any visual hint to what lay inside. Everything remained very black.
Chiapos was about to give it another heave with his shoulder when they heard footsteps come around from the side of the building. Both men turned around with a gasp.
"Hey, what are you folks trying to do?" a very ancient man with only a whisper of skin on a frail, frail torso cried out.
"That's Old Man Kray!" Samarin said softly to Chiapos.
The old man was just barely capable of walking, his movement indicative of a colossal degree of pain inside the ashen wrinkled skin, but he pushed on forward to Chiapos and his companion. His eyes seemed lifeless yet they contained as much anger as any explosive young man's could ever display. "What are you trying to do to my house!" he wheezed, rather than roared.
"We thought that the place was abandoned. It looked like something was wrong here and we were investigating." Chiapos replied. "Had we known that it was still occupied, we would never have been so blunt in our approach."
"Well, this place is very much occupied, thank you!" Kray growled, looking suspiciously back and forth to Chiapos and then to Samarin.
"Everything seems to be okay here," Samarin said. "I think that we could go on now, Rudeo."
"Rudeo?" Chiapos said and when he saw the wink in his companion's eyes, he realized that Samarin did not wish to reveal their identities to Old Man Kray.
"Not so fast!" Kray cried. "I want to see what you are carrying in your pouches. I'm not going to be robbed in broad daylight by a couple of punks like you! Open up your sacks!"
Chiapos looked at the old man and wondered how he was going to carry out his threat. Kray had to be in his nineties and he certainly did not appear to possess any weapon upon him that could add punch to his demands. Even if he was a stoic, hardworking man all of his life, all of that strength would have long ago evaporated from his worn-out body. Still Chiapos saw no harm in obliging the old fellow - afterall he and Samarin had certainly not taken anything.
Yet it was Samarin who decided to be noncompliant. Perhaps it was that bullying dominating intimidating highwayman mentality coming out of him. "We don't have to show you anything, old timer. We have done you no harm but if you keep acting the way you do, you just might have a taste of how nasty we can really be."
No sooner had he spoken the words, when suddenly out of seemingly nowhere Kray lashed out with a wet sack that contained a rock inside of it. It struck Samarin on the side of the head and sent him sprawling to the ground. And with the agility of a panther, the old man swung around and sent his wet sack directed straight at Chiapos's head. Miraculously or instinctively, it was one or the other, Chiapos never did know, the Redeemer surged upward and caught the sack in mid air. Kray’s weapon twirled harmlessly around the staff. The Wood of Faerie rendered Kray’s weapon impotent. It was unable to strike out to do any harm again.
Old Man Kray tugged at his weapon with bullish strength but the Redeemer stubbornly clung onto its catch. "Give it up Kray, this is magical wood you are dealing with here," Chiapos snarled. His anger was more the result of Samarin's behaviour than that of Kray’s. The old man was afterall only trying to defend his homestead.
The prairie man gave it one last pull but quickly realized that he was powerless against the Redeemer. "What kind of wood did you say that was?" he asked in a tone that suggested that he was not going to struggle with the Rainwaterman any more.
"It is made of Wood of Faerie. I call it the Redeemer. You would be wise to know that nothing can harm me as long as it is in my possession!" Chiapos boasted.
Kray looked long at the staff and at its owner. His face was as ancient as anything Chiapos had ever seen. At length, he finally said, "Wood of Faerie comes from a far off land. By the colour of your skin and the shape of your nose, I judge you to be from that western village of lackluster adventurers, Rainwater I believe it is called. How is it that a Rainwaterman would come into possession of such a priceless artifact?"
"You are very astute in your perceptions, Kray, for I am indeed from Rainwater, although I do not describe it as a home of lackluster adventurers. If you were aware of all of the astounding stories from my village’s past, you would not describe it that way either. I came upon this wonderful weapon during my own adventure, something we Rainwatermen call the Challenge."
"So it seems that Rainwatermen are still wasting their time on foolish and futile adventures rather than putting their land under the plow and reaping the bounty of Nature," Kray replied. "All the knowledge that your people have gained on their little exploits would not approach the wealth of understanding what a single farmer learns in just one solitary growing season."
Chiapos was growing used to the contempt people from outside the village felt for Rainwatermen. It was something he was growing less and less desirous of defending. If they think that way that is their own ignorance and weakness. "We have not come here to debate the folly or wisdom of my people, Kray. My companion and I have come to your homestead out of a genuine concern that something evil may have happened here. What happened to all of your livestock?"
"And sons?" groaned Samarin as he slowly hauled himself from the ground. A vibrant red welt was glowing from his cheek where he had been struck by the old man.
"How do you know that I have sons and livestock? For that matter, how do you know my name?" Kray said with growing suspicion. It was clear that he did not trust Samarin. "Have you been this way before?"
He looked carefully at the hard features displayed on the highwayman’s travelled face. "Wait a moment!" he declared. "I believe that I recognize you. You are one of the thieves that stole my silver goblets three winters ago. Are you not?"
"No, no! You are mistaken!" Samarin spoke quickly. "I am this young man's tutor. I am teaching him the philosophy of the Way as we journey along his trek."
"Don't take me for a fool, fellow!" Kray growled. "Out here, you don't see many faces and the ones that you do, you never forget! I know that ugly mien of yours well and I have sworn long ago that I will get my retribution."
"You are mistaken, sir!" Samarin denied the allegations but before he could further embellish his lie, Kray was upon his throat with an almost superhuman strength. No matter what Samarin did to break off the attack, he was no match for the old man. Where did someone that old get such strength? Chiapos asked himself. He had decided to stay out of the fight because he believed that it was time that the highwayman got a dose of his own medicine.
"Chiapos! Chiapos! Get him off of me! Chiapos!" Samarin cried feebly whenever Kray afforded him the opportunity to speak. Kray had him completely pinned. The bullying domineering intimidating highwayman was unable to use his arms or legs and was completely helpless in defending himself against the old frail man.
"Admit it, bandit! You are the one that stole my silver goblets. Admit it!" Kray growled while adding pressure to the armbreaking hold he had upon his opponent.
"I'm not, I swear!" Samarin moaned. "You're breaking my arm!"
"I will snap it in two if you do not start telling the truth."
Samarin screamed in pain. His mouth was wide open displaying a lime-coated tongue and a full set of rotten teeth. Chiapos was not moved to any pity for the man who was professing to be his teacher. Samarin had killed before. Samarin had made others suffer. Samarin would have slain him if it had not been for the Redeemer. Samarin would have murdered Kray had it not been for the old man's inexplicable strength. Where did Kray get it from? Samarin deserved this treatment and Chiapos was seriously debating whether he intended to intervene or not. He did not want the highwayman's company. Thus far Samarin had proved to be more of a burden than a boon. Even the feisty Redeemer in his hand did not display any eagerness to get into the fracas.
"Admit it, scoundrel! You are the thief! Admit it, and I will spare your life!" Kray howled with righteous anger. As Chiapos watched the old man, he did not feel any compelling reason to be on his side either. If Samarin was speaking the truth about Kray, he was an ornery, contemptible iconoclast that did not merit to be part of the society that he detested. People have got to make other people the focus of their lives. They cannot live like hermits and expect to have others admire them and respect them for their stoic lifestyles. Kray was not a likeable man and Chiapos found himself wishing that he could be clear of the both of them. Suddenly, the image of Cenan being engulfed by the Mammoth crossed his mind as he watched the two men fight. He had run away from that situation with the Appointed Servant. This was his chance to do it again.
He turned his back on the fight and was slowly starting to walk away when he heard Samarin cry out, "I admit it! I admit it! It was me! I stole your silver goblets."
Chiapos had to stop and watch. "What did you do with them? I want them back!" Kray demanded. He was still holding the highwayman to the ground although he had eased up on his grip about Samarin’s neck.
"I sold them in Tanejul some time later," Samarin admitted.
"How much did you get for them?"
"I didn't get a fair price but you must understand that I was desperate and I ..."
"How much did you get for them!" Kray reiterated forcibly, mercilessly strengthening his hold on Samarin considerably.
After a yelp of pain, Samarin groaned, "I got a lamb for them."
"A lamb!" Kray cried out in disbelief. "They were worth an entire herd of buffalo!"
"You haven't been to town lately. Your goblets, at best, could only fetch a breeding ewe," Samarin husked through a constricted throat.
Kray did not take too kindly to this remark. "Those goblets have belonged in my family for a dozen generations. You can't set a price on them. I demand that I get them back." He pulled Samarin to his feet by his neck.
"Get them back?" Samarin cried. "How do you propose for me to do so? I wouldn't have the faintest idea where they might be now!"
"You know who you sold them to, don't you?"
"Yes, but he was a barterer, he doesn't hold onto things for very long."
"But he would know who he sold them to!" Kray barked.
"Not this man. He sells hundreds of items every single day. How would he be able to remember who he sold a set of tarnished goblets to a couple of years ago!"
"That's not my problem to solve. That is yours." Kray said these words directly to Chiapos who was very surprised that he was suddenly being drawn into the argument.
"Me?" the Rainwaterman gaped. "What do I have to do with this?"
"You're his friend," Kray indicated the reddened Samarin. "You will go into Tanejul and find me my silver goblets."
Chiapos shook his head in denial. "I’m sorry. That is his problem, not mine."
"If you want your friend to live, you will do this for him."
"He's no friend of mine. I just met him along my trail."
"He is travelling with you, is he not?"
"That is not by my choice," Chiapos replied bluntly. "He is just sort of tagging along. If I had it my way, I would be rid of him right this instant." The Rainwaterman could not believe the cold aloof words coming out of his very mouth.
"Then, I shall dispatch him swiftly," Kray announced, grabbing hold of Samarin by the neck. His hold was such that one twist of his wrists would break Samarin's neck instantaneously.
Samarin looked onto Chiapos imploringly with the fear of death in his eyes.
"No, you are not going to do that to him," Chiapos said defiantly, his hands starting to feel the heat emanating from the Redeemer. It was not his nature to be cold and aloof even to someone who would have walked away long ago had their roles been reversed and it was Chiapos in Kray’s grip.
"Then give me your Wood of Faerie and I will let this scoundrel go!" Kray snapped with a hint of silver in his eyes. It was a look that sparked something in the Rainwaterman. It was a look that was vaguely familiar to him from somewhere else.
"I will not give you my Redeemer!" Chiapos spoke boldly.
"Then say farewell to your travelling companion." The glint of silver had grown more clearly defined and with this new definition, Chiapos knew exactly with whom he was dealing. This man was not Kray. And it made sense too. No ninety-year old man could possibly have the kind of strength that this old man was displaying. Not many twenty-year old men would be capable of doing what this prairie farmer was doing.
"It's you, isn't it Martok!" Chiapos cried.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about!" the old man said, not relinquishing his grip on Samarin. "Give me the Wood of Faerie and everything would be set straight between us."
"Why are you so interested in my staff, Martok? That is twice you have tried to wrest it from me." Chiapos was convinced that Kray was indeed Martok. It was just the same way that the Aura had imitated being Straye back in the Tester.
"I mean it, Rainwaterman. This pathetic vagabond will be dead in an instant if you don't give me the Wood of Faerie!"
With as much speed as a striking cougar, Chiapos pounced upon the prairie man, wielding the Redeemer like a wild man. It glanced down on the side of Kray’s face with the force of an avalanche. It narrowly missed smashing into the old man's skull but did make fairly substantial contact against Kray’s lower jaw and shoulder.
Kray cried out in fierce pain. He let go off Samarin and turned towards Chiapos. He had remarkably survived the Redeemer's blow, a blow that was capable of creating a hole through the Earth's mantle. This was indeed no human being.
Chiapos held up his weapon ready to hit again. The knowledge that he was dealing with something supernatural made him tremble in his stance. Samarin had scrambled away like a cowardly animal in defeat. "Go away Aura! This is not the forest!" Chiapos said, his voice betraying the mortal fear he felt in his heart.
The glint of silver that was contained in Kray's eyes started to grow. It grew past his eyeballs and in seconds it covered his entire face. It was amorphous and shifting, never holding the same pattern twice. Chiapos's eyes started to sting from the glare but he dared not shield them lest the Aura attacked. He quickly understood that the only thing that protected him was his Redeemer - that somehow this Wood of Faerie was capable of inflicting corporeal punishment on a noncorporeal being. There never was any mention of magical wood in the Challengelore. He realized that he was extremely lucky to have come across the Redeemer. He only now just prayed that it would get him out of this situation.
"Give me the Wood!" the Aura cried in a hysterical, bloodchilling voice that was as unearthly as the wraithish figure that stood before Chiapos. There was not any semblance of a human being left in the pulsating silver entity before him.
"Give him your stick!" Samarin whined in the background.
Chiapos was resolved not to weaken. He knew that if he were to give up the Redeemer then everything would be lost. The Redeemer might be all that this Aura in Ascension needed to overthrow the Mammoth of the Tester. The Mammoth kept the order of the world in Mallog’mor’ach. Chiapos could sense that this Aura would rule like a tyrant and everything that lived under its power would live in a condition of slavery. He could not weaken. "I will give you the Redeemer!" Chiapos wailed.
He swung the staff into the shimmering glowing cluster before him and it burst into a hundred shards of light, each identical to the other. From each shard came a terrible cry of agony. A hundred voices said as one, "You will regret this some day soon, Rainwaterman!"
The lights slowly began to congregate and reassemble, the one engulfing the other. This consolidation of the many parts happened as rapidly as the parts had been dispersed. When a unified whole reappeared, they had taken on the shape of a woodcock. It flew around Chiapos threateningly and it buzzed at Samarin's head. The highwayman took a swipe at the bird and missed and then it was gone.
"What in the world was that!" Samarin exclaimed. He did not even try to recompose himself. He was as wild as a wolverine as he came running up to the Rainwaterman's side almost like a frightened child running to his parent.
Although his stomach was still all awhirl with the trembling excitement of the last few moments, Chiapos was capable of speaking in a manner that did not betray his inner turmoil. "That was an Aura, Samarin. That was the Aura in Ascension!"
"If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would have believed you were mad if you had come to me with such a story." Samarin wiped his brow. "And I thought I saw it all."
"You must be tired. We will sit here for a while so that you can regain your strength,” Chiapos said. Was he starting to feel pity for his unwelcomed companion? The man had been at the edge of death and he had seen the horror beyond. Perhaps this strange experience had solidified their relationship. No matter what his feelings were for the highwayman Chiapos realized that the man needed some rest after that ordeal.
The Eyes of Ghosts
After the Aura disappeared, the two travelers sat on the front veranda that surrounded the missing true Kray’s house. "You should get yourself a bite to eat from your stores," Chiapos told his companion.
"I don't know if I could quite stomach any food right now," Samarin admitted. "That thing whatever it was sure does appear to be interested in your staff. If it had have been me I would have given the wood over no questions asked. You are made of sterner stuff than I had first realized, Rainwaterman."
"It's the third time I have encountered the Aura," Chiapos replied, not addressing the highwayman’s compliment although it sounded good to his ears. "The first time we met, I did not have the Redeemer. At that time, he came to me in the form of a lost child calling himself Martok. He was unlike any child that I have ever encountered before. Like the Kray we just met, he possessed a strength and a fierceness that one would not expect to find in little boys or old men. This should have tipped me off at once that there was a deception at work when I saw how strong Kray was," he confessed.
"How were you to know? You are just barely out of your swaddling clothes yourself."
"Still, I should have been wary from the moment when I heard that bird pass by," Chiapos said, recalling the sound of a swift pair of wings zoom past his ears just prior to he and Samarin coming upon the Kray homestead.
"This land has millions of birds and I assure you that not every one is an evil omen," Samarin tried to be reassuring.
"This Aura seems to have some sort of affinity for the woodcock form. A woodcock's cry was the last thing I remember hearing when I had lost the golden haired boy Martok. Then there was a woodcock in the vicinity when I lost my fellow countrywoman at the mountainside. And now, there was one again with Kray."
"I find it strange that this Aura can not only take on the form of a human but he also takes on that human’s identity, memories and all. Only the real Kray would have known that I had stolen the silver goblets. Do you suppose that the Aura is some kind of memory vampire? He not only sucks the life from his victim, he sucks out the person as well?" Samarin speculated. He had torn a blade of the sedge grass held between his fingers and he began chewing at it pensively.
"Don't say that!" Chiapos said quickly. "I don't want to think of the possibility that my countrywoman Straye, a fellow Challenger, is dead!"
"I’m afraid that you cannot rule out that possibility," Samarin answered. "With a thing like that Aura about, you almost have to expect the worse. Just thinking of that abominable creature makes me shutter." He shook to intensify his words.
"It makes me shutter too. Thankfully, I had the Redeemer with me. It seems to have some power over these celestial beings."
"Do you think that the Redeemer was the reason the Appointed Servant to the Mammoth took such an interest in you?"
"I don't think Cenan was interested in gaining possession of the staff. She never made any attempt to take it from me. In fact, she did not even seem to be aware of it. Maybe she was aware of it but acted like she wasn’t. Maybe she knew that it would draw in these evil beings like moths to a light and that is why she gave me her milk to give me strength and why she wanted to tutor me in the ancient teachings of the Way. Maybe I should have stayed with her longer." He recalled the high priestess being draped by that eerie non-worldly misty veil. He just hoped that the nebulous fog was the Mammoth. He did not know the outcome or the purpose of that strange encounter between the ancient beings. Perhaps he should have stayed with her. She just might have been in trouble and needed his help. The thought made him uncomfortable. He rose to his feet and starting walking towards the house.
"What are you doing?" Samarin asked, still seated.
"I have got to investigate what happened to the original occupants of this house," Chiapos answered. "You said that this was the home to Kray and his sons and a host of buffalo and sheep. I have to find out what happened to them."
"I can tell you what happened to them. They are all dead! Killed by that thing!" Samarin said with dismay.
Chiapos ignored his companion's laments and he walked up to the house again. It seemed like there were now even more spider webs clinging to the structure than before. The smell of the dead mouse still hung in the air, the wood and stone of the building must have seeped in the foul stench. The stale air that had been inside had been revamped with new air that had come through the partially opened door. Remembering the stubbornness of this wooden portal, Chiapos plunged his shoulder into the meat of the door and knocked it wide open.
The light of the day poured into the previously dark interior giving partial illumination to some of the artifacts inside. From the doorway, he could see that the house had more than one room for there was another door along an interior wall. Very, very few of the homes back in Rainwater held more than one room. This was very amazing for Chiapos to see. From what he could see of the first room, it was cluttered with furniture the likes of which he had never witnessed in Rainwater. There were wooden tables with wooden chairs. Upon the tables was stoneware ornately painted in lavish designs using brilliant colours, many of which his eyes had never beheld prior to this moment. How did Kray obtain these kinds of dyes? The colour of the clothing and the pottery in Rainwater was always a drab beige. The villagers did not have access to the plants that produced the more exciting colours. The designs on Kray's pottery and the multitude of colours to be found on the stoneware and the wallhangings did not attest to the fact that the occupants were hardworking stoics. There definitely seemed to be an appreciation of the creative spirit in this home.
Chiapos entered the house and started looking about. The floor was not earthen as floors are in Rainwater, it was made of wood, long planks tightly placed together and held together by pointed metallic objects. No home in Rainwater ever had a manufactured floor. It was always the ground beneath the feet in a Rainwater abode. The creaking of the floorboards was a new experience to Chiapos. They sounded like the cries of dispossessed ghosts. He found his grip on the Redeemer grow tighter as he became more cautious with his steps. He did not trust the floor and felt like he was about to fall through it. Recalling his falling experience at Mount Corvyx, he made sure that he held onto a table or a chair as he slowly milled about.
Then he screamed!
There on the wall that separated the one room from the other were the faces of ghosts! At least ten of them, all huddled together in lifeless stillness. They stood completely motionless and they were about a tenth the size of a mortal being. They had height and they had length but they had no depth. One of them had an uncanny resemblance to Kray except there was no glint of silver in the eyes. The rest had features that were similar to Kray but they were much younger in appearance. All of the eyes from all of the figures were affixed upon him and no matter where he moved these eyes continued to follow him and penetrate him. These were clearly the ghosts of Kray and his family. Chiapos was so unnerved that he was about to strike these beings with his staff.
"Is everything okay?" Samarin asked from the doorway.
"Run for safety my friend, while I dispatch these demons to the crèche where they belong!" Chiapos cried out. He dared not look back at his companion lest the spirits attack him.
"What demons, I don't see any demons!" Samarin hoarsed, his eyes dashing about to try to see what Chiapos was seeing.
"Right there on the wall!" Chiapos pointed at the images of the ghosts. "There's a whole slew of them there!"
Samarin followed Chiapos' extended finger and started to laugh heartily.
"What are you laughing about?" Chiapos inquired, completely confused.
Through his bursts of gutwrenching chuckling, Samarin guffawed, "I forgot what simpletons you Rainwatermen are!" The remark prompted an angry glare from Chiapos that Samarin shrugged off. "What you are looking at, my friend, is known as a painting."
"A painting? Is that another echelon in the strata between ghost and human?"
This produced a belly laugh out of Samarin. "No, my neophyte to the real world. A painting is nothing more than an extravagant drawing!” He was nearly choking from his laughter. His big hands were holding his rib cage so that they wouldn’t pierce through his skin.
"That is a drawing? I do not see any lines!"
"Chiapos, perhaps when you return from your Challenge you might tell your fellow villagers about paintings so that they would not appear as foolish as you are appearing right now. A painting makes use of colours produced by pigments that one can collect almost anywhere. The reason that there are no lines is because the artist melds his foreground and background with the use of paints which eliminate the rudimentary sketch beneath."
Chiapos approached the painting to have a closer look but he stopped suddenly. "No drawing can create eyes that move. The eyes of all of those figures are following me no matter where I go." He swiftly poked his finger at one of the eyes to see if he could make it blink. The ghostly eye remained bravely open.
"That is the magic of art, my friend," Samarin went up to the portrait and placed his hands on the eyes of the likeness of Kray. "Feel this, Chiapos."
The Rainwaterman declined to accept. He was not about to have his hand taken away by a ghost.
Samarin ran his finger along the entire painting. "This is nothing more than some pigments upon parchment. There is nothing supernatural about it. There is nothing to fear. This is a portrait of Kray and his family. It must have been done after the last time I was here because I do not recall it all. Kray had nine sons and now they are all gone - all killed by that Aura of yours, no doubt. Now, that is something to fear."
Chiapos nodded. Upon seeing that Samarin was not being harmed in the least, he started to accept the possibility that he may have been mistaken. Maybe they were not ghosts. Maybe they were nothing more than elaborate drawings. He ran his hand upon the portrait and could feel the rough texture of dried out pigments. Ghosts would never feel this way.
Feeling more relaxed and shaking off the embarrassment that was creeping at the edge of his consciousness, he studied the picture of the old man and his nine sons. "There are no women in this painting,” he observed. Then he postulated, “Did you ever think that maybe Kray's boys left the homestead to fetch themselves some wives?"
"That is another place where your knowledge is lacking, my friend. The people of the prairies are always male in gender. They believe life is too rough out here for women folk," Samarin replied.
Before he could go any further, Chiapos interrupted. "But Kray had children. These boys had to have a mother."
"All human children have mothers. Kray's sons are no different. They were born of several mothers who all live in Tanejul," Samarin said, while he studied the painting. Chiapos wondered if he was intending to steal it. "In his younger days, Kray would venture to the town to sire a son. He would offer the potential mother several years' worth of produce and meat in exchange for a birthing of a male offspring and the subsequent upbringing of the boychild until he was old enough to move out here to the homestead."
"And what age would that be?" Chiapos asked while he moved his body in between the painting and Samarin. Even though there appeared to be no occupants to this homestead, he was not going to allow his cohort to desecrate the integrity of the memory of Kray and his boys.
Samarin squeezed himself around Chiapos. "This one here, Tallus, I believe that is his name, was already living on his father's ranch by the time he was three." He pointed out the oldest of the sons. To Chiapos' eyes, Tallus was already a man who was old and wizened. "The rest of them came at about the age of five."
"That's awfully young." Chiapos was feeling pity for these boys for being placed into what must have been a hard life at such a strapping green age. Even though every one in the painting was at least twice his age, he could see the pain in their eyes for being robbed of their childhood. He could imagine the terror they must have felt when they were stripped away from their mothers and taken away by a humourless old man to a harsh environment.
"Kray needed the help to run his land. He, like all these prairie homesteaders, knew that if you did not break a child into taking on labour at a young age, the odds were that you would never break him in at all to work. But you shouldn't feel sorry for these boys. They all soon grew to accept the severe disciplinarian ways of their father and they have all sired sons of their own who have sired sons of their own. It is the only life that they all know and they wouldn't live their lives any other way," Samarin explained. His fingers were running along the picture's wooden frame.
Chiapos knocked the rogue's hand away by brusquely pointing at the youngest of the men. "You mean to tell me that that man is a grandfather. My father is older than he is."
"And you are old enough to become a father, my friend. That would make your father a grandfather."
The Rainwaterman held his position and would not let Samarin's hands touch the painting again. "I guess that you are right. Still, he seems terribly young. What if the child that is born is a girl and not a boy? What happens then?"
"That is simple. The mother never receives payment from the prairie man and she has to raise the girl on her own. That happens quite often and you will find that the streets of Tanejul are strewn with homeless women with their daughters."
"The more that I'm learning about Kray and the other prairie men, the more I find that I dislike them. They are cruel people and deserve the hardships that come their way."
Samarin stepped back from the painting. He looked about the household. Chiapos followed his gaze. "You judge too harshly, Chiapos. The foods that come from these prairie households supply most of the kitchens and stoves in Tanejul. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people rely on the soils and livestock of this region. They would starve without the likes of Kray and his sons. And the reality of it all is that it is a system that works and has worked for generations. I'm not saying that a woman cannot survive out here but a newly born child would be placed under such privations that most of them would not survive the first year. It gets very cold here in the winter. A baby has a much better chance of living if he is weaned and swaddled in the town instead of on the prairie. Don't believe for a moment that a prairie man's heart is as icy as the winter. They love their children and would die for them in an instant. But they are pragmatists and they know what is best."
Samarin's argument did little to dissuade Chiapos' regard for the prairie men. Chiapos thought of his own family. Chakka held his daughters in as much high esteem as his sons. It would break his heart if his girls were not to be a part of his life. Chakka believed in discipline as much as any other true Rainwaterman but he would never be able to tolerate the notion of subjecting his young children to long, tortuous days of labour. He believed that youth was a time to be free and playful. Responsibility was something to be slowly weaned over the decade prior to the child achieving adulthood. Chiapos' gaze drifted back to the stern faces in the painting and he could see through their masks at the painful eyes of hurt, little boys being forever denied their mothers. This house was not a place of warmth and he could no longer stand being within its walls. "Come, Samarin, it's time that we are off!" As an afterthought, he added, "Don't take anything, there's nothing but sadness here. We don't want it to rub off on us."
He walked out of Kray's house. He never turned back to take another glance or to confirm that his companion was following him or to see that if the eyes of the ghosts were still watching him. He never wanted to experience that gloomy mood again.
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