The forgotten stone, p.38
The Forgotten Stone, page 38
Enouim sat in the dark, listening to the rain. Her mother didn’t want their help. She had given up. Qadra was a Gorgenbrilder. Never to turn, never to abandon the fight. Relentless, resilient. But the fire had gone out.
Unsure of what to do, but knowing she couldn’t stay there forever, Enouim got up and headed back toward Twedori’s house. Her mind was in a tumult, and as she walked she was only dimly aware of the steps before her. Enouim pulled her hood closer around her face and ducked her head as the rain rose from a soft drizzle to a driving downpour. She quickened her pace and hugged the buildings and walls as she went.
She turned a sharp corner and ran straight into a solid frame. Enouim looked up, startled. An equally startled tribesman stood before her, but his face quickly recovered and turned to flint. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Enouim’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It was just as well. What could she have said?
“Where do you think you’re going? No one is to be out at this hour,” the man growled. “And yet here you are.” The man leaned forward to examine her in the rain, gripping her upper arm. “I don’t recognize you. Why have I not seen you before?”
“Please, I … er … I got turned around.” Enouim rolled her eyes at herself. A toddler could have been more convincing.
The man’s eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened. This was insane. Insane! In a panic, the only thing Enouim could think to do was to double down on the crazy. “My goat!” she exclaimed, tossing her hands up in the air. “My goat is mad at me! He ran away! Oh, what ever will I do? My best friend! My favorite dinner! My family! He’s all I have left!” Enouim clutched at the man’s leather breastplate, bulging her eyes out at him as far as they could go. The Sumu leaned away from her, looking confused. “Have you seen me? Have you seen him? Have you taken my goat?” Softly Enouim began to sob, sinking to the ground. Suddenly she stood and raised her voice at him, furious. “You took him and ate him! You ate my son! How could you do this to me, after being friends for so long?!”
Caught off guard, the tribesman loosened his grip, and Enouim kneed him in the groin and fled. A grunt from the man behind her was followed by heavy footsteps. She didn’t have long. Enouim flew around another corner and leaped up a short wall to the level above, running on the soggy sod as quickly as she could manage. She slipped on the wet grass of an abandoned horse pasture, and drew the knife from her boot before staggering forward.
A thud warned her the Sumu tribesman had made the leap and was on her heels. Enouim veered left, running along the edge of the pasture on top of the rocky ledge, and as the wall rose with the ground, the houses on the level below stood at the same height as the pasture. She heard another shout and knew the chase had not gone unnoticed. Enouim jumped from the wall to the roof of a house and ran along it to the end. The tribesman followed, and Enouim looked for a way down.
She was on top of Bondeg’s house, the exact spot she had been in six months before, except a Sumu tribesman was on her heels in place of Chayan. Enouim twisted as the man ran toward her and with a flick of her wrist let her knife fly. The knife sunk into her pursuer’s neck ten feet from her, and he kept coming for one final long leap as the momentum of the knife drove his head back and his body continued forward. He swayed and slipped down the roof and over the edge, crashing to the ground below.
Enouim whirled and used the window ledge she remembered from the Chayan incident to drop down to the ground. She ran to the man. Blood poured from his neck and washed away in the rain as he spent his last moments aspirating his own blood. She couldn’t leave him in the open. Enouim peeked through the window. Nothing. Enouim grabbed his wrists and tugged the man around the corner to Bondeg’s door and opened it.
The table Enouim had hidden under remained exactly where it had been before. Enouim lugged the man through the doorway and over to the small table and felt for the knob underneath it. The trap door swung open. The tribesman lay still now, and Enouim snatched a cloak draped over the table to mop up blood on the floor before draping his hands over the hole to keep the trap door from closing, closed the door to Bondeg’s home, and climbed into the hole. Standing four feet deep with her head poking out, Enouim took hold of the man’s forearms and pulled him into the small space after her, letting the trap door swing closed to shut them in.
Sitting in the dark once again, Enouim’s chest felt like it might explode. Her breath caught in her lungs as she sat with her back against the dirt wall, the dead man draped in her lap. She had killed him.
Someone ran by above her outside the house, but no one entered. Enouim closed her eyes. What now? If she was caught, she would be executed either on the spot or in ritual, in front of all of Gorgenbrild. If she wasn’t caught, what would they make of the man’s disappearance? Who would be blamed? Did anyone see her enter the house?
Out of pitch blackness Enouim heard a rustling sound down the tunnel. Her frantic heart stood still. She wasn’t alone. She felt along the dead man’s body and up to his neck to retrieve her knife. She winced and tugged, but it didn’t move, so she propped the Sumu up in front of her as a shield. Another movement in the darkness. Silence.
Her breath came quickly. She couldn’t see her own hand in the darkness, much less whoever crouched beyond. The rain continued to pound outside, unaware of the tension below. Finally Enouim could take it no more. If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well get it over with.
“Who … who’s there?” she asked. She had hoped to sound commanding, but her voice wavered.
“Enouim? Is that you?”
“Who are you?”
“It’s Gabor. It’s me. You’re okay.”
Relief flooded through her. “Gabor! I’ve never been so glad to hear anyone’s voice in all my life. What are you doing down here? This tunnel only leads to the outskirts by the cliff.”
“Well, maybe once it did. Not anymore. It’s an underground meeting network. There’s a meet going on right now, but we heard the noise when you entered the passage and I came to investigate. I’m sure they will all be glad to hear they aren’t going to be found out and slaughtered tonight.”
“Well, don’t speak too soon. A tribesman chased me and I—”
“Zegrath’s teeth. You were followed?”
“Yes, just outside. He’s … he’s dead, Gabor. He’s in here with me, dead. I’m holding a corpse between us right now.” Realizing the truth and sudden absurdity of what she’d just said, Enouim released the body abruptly, and it fell to the side against the wall. “My knife is still in his throat.”
“Get it out. You’ll need it yet, and we are running short on weapons of all kinds. Get it out and let’s go. I’ll come back to get him, just move him out from under the trap door.”
“Ugh. Do I have to?”
“Well, gee, Enouim, do you want to live?” Gabor hissed. “Hurry!”
Enouim rolled her eyes in the darkness but did as she was told. She ran her fingers up the corpse once more, gripped the hilt of her knife with both hands, and yanked it free. Enouim clambered over him and dragged the body out from under the trap door, further into the passage.
“Where are you?” Enouim swung her hand out blindly in front of her.
“Here, I’m right … aghhh!! Your hand is wet. Did you get Sumu blood on me?”
“Well, gee, Gabor, what do you think? Let’s go. I’m claustrophobic in here as it is. Please tell me this new meeting room is wider than three feet across.”
“Oh, it is … but I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a palace or anything. Follow me.”
Enouim followed Gabor down the tunnel, and after a few minutes he paused and took a turn off to the side. Soft, indiscernible voices drifted out to them as they continued down into the new tunnel, until finally they were dumped out into a room about twenty feet by fifteen feet with wooden support beams. In it twenty or so Gorgenbrilders circled around Canukke as he spoke.
“We need more numbers! How many of you know someone who could join us when the time comes?”
“We are divided, I am afraid,” answered one. “It’s hard to know who is friend or foe. Khoron-khelek murders any openly resisting him, or forces one of us to do it publicly. If you speak to a neighbor, he may share our desires for freedom, but fear death.”
“Worse still, he may consider it a moment to better himself and turn you in for a meal and more comfortable lodging, or status,” another put in.
Canukke shook his head.“This is not the Gorgenbrild I know. The Gorgenbrild I know is built on loyalty and strength, and an honor that would not be parted from it even in death. How has one evil man stolen your valiant essence? My friends, now is the time to rise up!”
“There are those of us who would, if there were enough of us to make it anything but suicide,” remarked a third.
A murmur passed around the group.
“We tried it, didn’t we, last time? And the time before that?”
“What have we to lose?”
“We’ve already lost too much. Perhaps Khoron-khelek will hold to his promises and we can earn a life worth living. As barbaric as he is, he has been true to his word so far.”
“Listen to yourselves,” Canukke exclaimed. “Where are my countrymen? Where are the warriors that fought by my side against these tribesmen time and again over the last decades? If you are not warriors of honor, you cannot claim yourselves of Gorgenbrild. And if you are not of Gorgenbrild, who are you of? The Sumus? Are you tribesmen, too, blown about by whatever your abhorrent authority tells you is true? Well, I say never! Never to turn! Gorgenbrild! Reignite the fire in your souls!
“I would die valiantly a thousand times before I would waste away a hollow old man. I hear your frustrations, your fears. But do you know what I fear? I fear existing without purpose, under the thumb of a grotesque man drunk on his own grand illusions. I fear losing myself. If I die, I will die a man of honor! Who are these tribesmen to challenge us? Did we not drive them back ten to one in the campaign of Liombas-Katan? Simmet, tell me … how many men did you purge from the earth that day?”
“Twenty-three!” Simmet responded proudly. “But I did not come close to your number, if I recall!”
“Twenty-three! Cokar, what was your number?”
“Twenty-six, no mistake,” Cokar answered, nodding.
“Twenty-six! You speak of numbers, my friends, but we are not a ten-to-one people. We are a twenty-to-one people on a rainy day! Some have lost hope, you say. Some tuck their tails and turn themselves over to the whim of that tyrant. If they do not know how to respond, let us show them. If there is no safety in words, let us prove ourselves in action. Give hope now to the hopeless, and as the tide turns, see who is willing to join us then! But we need leaders! And who better to lead than a warrior of Gorgenbrild? Fight with me again!”
Cheers went up from the modest crowd, before someone shushed them to keep volume down.
“You have come too late, friend,” said a man on the other side of the room. Enouim couldn’t see his face, but his voice was raspy and worn. “It will take more than a few inspirational words to get Gorgenbrild out of the clutches she has fallen into. You say all we have to do is rise up, but it is madness! On Liombas-Katan, we were well supplied and prepared. Now weapons are scarce, and those we have are carefully hidden. Our physical strength wanes even as our minds struggle to cling to hope. You are a worthy fighter, Canukke, but it is not enough. These months you have been gone, we held out hope that you might return borne on the crest of Glintenon’s will, with the Ecyah Stone as the bane of our enemies. But you come empty handed! You should have stayed gone. Let those who wish to leave organize their escape, and those who wish to live remain.”
Enouim spoke up. “Glintenon stands with us still.” All heads in the room turned toward her. “And he is sent by Eh’yeh—Ecyah himself. We do not come home in vain. Our visible strength is dismal, but as Vadik could tell you, the greatest strength is often invisible.”
“Perhaps there is simply no spark left to ignite in some of us, visible or no,” said a woman standing in the middle of the gathering. “What fire could burn in these conditions?”
“What fire!” Canukke cried. “It is not the fault of the fire that you failed to fan it into flame. No, the fire is roaring, and ready to be let out of its cage. How long will you pretend to be a demure little bird when you have always been a zegrath? What zegrath deigns to be kept as a pet? It is indecent! It is against the laws of nature! They have pulled a tooth, but they do not have our hide, and our claws and spikes are as deadly as ever. You want a fire? I will give you a fire. Swear to me that when you see it, you will take me at my word and rise to fight—if not under me, then under Glintenon himself. Swear it!”
Nodding, more murmurs.
“My people,” Canukke said, shaking his head. “The oaths of men of valor are not taken in secret. We fight to live a life worth living or we die in the effort and reclaim our honor. We defend our people, our land, our personhood! Never to turn! For what were you born if not this moment? This is the day our children’s children will establish in the memory of all generations to come as the turning point, the day when Gorgenbrild lived up to its name. Never to turn! Swear it!”
“By Glintenon!”
“My sword!”
“Sworn!”
The room seemed to have picked up an electric current, and Enouim felt goosebumps prickle her flesh as she saw the ragged, hopeless lot before her brighten and steady their resolve. Gabor appeared behind them with Enouim’s downed Sumu and a ripple of bloodlust seemed to have taken hold of them all. With a tribesman killed, the status quo was already tipped, and if something didn’t happen soon, ritual killings might increase in hopes of exposing the killer.
Cokar produced a knife and flung it into the Sumu’s lifeless form. “Never to turn!” Cheers.
Simmet walked up and plunged his own knife into the corpse. “May he be the first of many!”
Enouim grimaced. She looked down at the knife she still held and wiped it on the dirt to clean it, then on her clothes. She wanted no part of blood for the sake of blood. Only to survive.
42
The meeting carried on into the early morning hours. Canukke told Enouim to get some rest, and the plan would be explained again back at camp. She needed no further urging, and had curled in the corner and nodded off. She woke to Gabor gently shaking her.
“Time to go, Enouim,” he said.
“What? Go? It’s not light out yet,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“Yes it is. You’re underground, silly. Time to go.”
Enouim bolted upright. She was underneath Gorgenbrild. There had been a meeting—where was everyone? Canukke held up a dwindling torch next to one of four exits from the room, gesturing them forward.
“Gabor, you first,” he instructed. “Enouim, you’re next, and I follow. No lights from here on out. This tunnel leads to the outskirts, and then we will have one more tunnel to go.”
Gabor climbed into the tunnel, and Enouim clambered after him. When they came to the end of the tunnel, Gabor pressed on the side of the wall and it swung outward. Gabor peered out, then disappeared through the opening.
Enouim worked her way up to the opening on her elbows, and saw it dumped out straight into the wall of someone’s bedroom, several feet from the ground. Enouim marveled at the many creative passageway options Gorgenbrild afforded them by sprawling across so many different levels of terrain.
Gabor held his hand out to her and helped pull her out of the tunnel and into the room. Once Canukke followed, Gabor closed the tunnel entry again and Enouim saw that a weapon display case hung in that space. It was empty now, and Enouim assumed Khoron-khelek had either emptied it or the owner had hidden the items from sight.
Canukke strode across the room and ducked through the open window without pause. Enouim began to follow when Gabor gripped her wrist and gestured her to wait. After a couple minutes, he let her go and nodded. Stepping forward, she dipped her head through and crossed to the other side of the street, scanning for Canukke.
She saw him some thirty paces away, and slowly began making her way in that direction. There were a few people out and about, tribesmen and Gorgenbrilders alike, making as little contact with each other as possible. Enouim, Canukke, and Gabor continued on, keeping distance between the three of them but always within eyesight.
Up ahead, Enouim saw Canukke’s broad form suddenly duck out of view between two houses. Enouim quickened her pace and looked around the corner. Canukke was nowhere to be seen. Glancing back and seeing Gabor, Enouim ducked in the row where she had seen Canukke disappear. She glanced in windows, and down the road. Nothing. Enouim turned around to look how close Gabor was. He would know what to do.
Except that Gabor wasn’t there. Enouim spun around, panicked, and saw a Sumu tribesman had taken interest in her antics. Leaning against the wall of a house, he straightened as he watched her. It was only then that Enouim realized there was no good reason for a Gorgenbrilder to be so intensely focused now that they were overrun. No one looked quite so motivated anymore, much less at this hour. Enouim looked back at the tribesman, then tried to pass him by on the far side.
As she did, the tribesman pushed off the wall and took several steps to block her passage. “Where are you going so quickly?”
“I lost my … goat,” she answered, eyes still on the ground. Clearly all her behavior could be blamed on goats now.
“Your goat? There are hardly any left. If it’s been out long, someone else has taken it by now. Head on home.”
“I’ll do that. But I’ve already been in circles. Home is this way.” Enouim gestured beyond the man.
“No one can pass this way.”
“Why not?”
The Sumu examined her closely. “Everyone knows this is a restricted area. The better question is, why didn’t you know that?”
