The Hammer Unfalls

2.25 The Sick Aid Us

˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳

The last vestige of frost melted in the stream Mhagi had made, squatting, for the dozenth time that day. Each kick the baby made found a new spot. One that somehow gave her an even stronger urge to pee than than the last kick had.

Tomykas did not seem to mind the breaks. He took the opportunity to kneel and retch in the snow. The gristle had done him in. He’d been hoarding every scrap of fat they could scavenge in these strange foothills. Mhagi knew he’d been shorting his share and passing it to her. Yesterday’s portion had gone rancid. Mhagi could tell, after a lifetime of sensing scents on the wind. Tomykas had stubbornly insisted on trying it to be sure.

She smoothed her tunic as she stood, gathering the fur tight around her, and looked around. Smooth gray trees in all directions, unfurling fine purple leaves, with only the undulation of the ground to guide them. Up. Up was all her feet knew. All her soles sought from inside these unfamiliar leather boots.

“We should rest.”

Tomykas nodded and slumped to the ground.

Mhagi walked over to the donkey and patted its muzzle. It brayed weakly. She reached into the grain bag on one side, scooping a handful of ever-dwindling oats from the burlap sack. The donkey guzzled it straight from her palm. Mhagi twitched, expecting the beast to eat her fingers by accident, but it never did.

She pulled out the contraption of wood and cloth they’d made under Heinreckt’s guidance. Similar to the lean-to formed of reeds on the raft’s deck where they’d passed many nights entwined in each other. Mhagi smiled at the memory. She unfolded the triangular struts, set them onto the ground, and unrolled the thick straw mat.

“Lay down,” she commanded in her most regal voice. The one advantage she had over Tomykas’s stubbornness. No matter what else happened, until they married or perished, he lived or died in her service. She’d tried not to make that too obvious in Cantleport, to spare his dignity among the foreigners. But between her torc and the way Tomykas straightened at her command, it hadn’t taken the others long to guess the truth.

He lay, curled into a ball. She stroked his damp hair for awhile before heading off to pee again. As she squatted, she studied the ground, and saw more of the holes. About thumb-thick, and fresh-dug. She had no idea what made them. But this time, a pair of red eyes stared at her from the hole before flicking down out of sight.

Mhagi leapt back and stared at the hole, but the eyes did not reappear.

She slept restlessly that night, expecting more red eyes to appear at any moment.

The next day, they did.

The morning brought with it a strange sound. As she and Tomykas cried out to greet the dawn, so too did unseen creatures around them. A croaking whisper at first. As the day wore on, the sound grew louder and louder, coming from all sides.

Tomykas gripped his spear as they walked, grimly surveying the trees between thin lips tinged with gray. Nothing moved. Nothing attacked. The sound crescendoed and echoed, assaulting their ears with a disembodied, chittering warble.

“What is this cowardice?” he whispered that evening through clenched teeth. “Why do they not strike?”

“Perhaps they wait for us to sleep,” Mhagi answered.

“I’ll put a fire between us and them.” Tomykas fanned his fingers and summoned flame from the ground. As he did so, very close by, a sharp, shrieking croak rang out.

“Wait!”

Mhagi crouched and stepped towards the sound. Baleful red eyes peered at her from under a leaf. She flicked the leaf aside. A huge insect vibrated at her, rankled by her discovery. With its translucent armor and many legs curled beneath it, it looked like a shrimp with red eyes and wings.

“They are merely insects!” she laughed.

Tomykas walked beside her and prodded at the thing with his spear tip, crouching defensively. The bug simply rattled on the ground and crawled away at a snail’s pace, buzzing angrily.

“I don’t think they’ll harm us,” she said. Indeed, as night fell, the sounds faded, until blissful silence allowed them to tumble into the embrace of sleep.

The next morning, the same drama played out. A smattering of rattles met the dawn, which crested to a wave of sound crashing around them harder than any surf. By afternoon, she could see her own fatigue of the noise reflected on the face of Tomykas.

She started to say something to lighten his mood, but froze. Tomykas heard it, too, and sank to the ground.

Other sounds, besides the vibrations of winged shrimp and the periodic snorting of the donkey. Human voices.

For several minutes, Mhagi pictured Pelutian warriors closing in on them from the shadows. She could defend against several of them, but at what cost? These were her loyal protectors, following thousands of years of tradition passed down mouth-to-ear by generations. She could not bring herself to fight.

Mhagi stood, straightened her cloak, and stepped towards the voices.

“Mhagi!” Tomykas hissed.

“I’ll not fight our own,” she said simply. He walked beside her towards the voices.

“Over here, Gerard!” a woman’s voice called out.

“I see them!” answered another, deeper voice.

Two figures emerged from the trees and knelt on the ground, plucking the red-eyed bugs and tossing them into baskets. A man about the same age as Tomykas himself, perhaps twenty summers. A slightly older woman followed. They did not see Mhagi at first, so she cleared her throat. The pair pulled up in surprise.

“Have you come to forage the cicadas as well?” the woman asked. “They came earlier than we expected.”

“That means we’re in for a brutal winter,” her companion said.

“Are sick aidas the winged shrimp?” Mhagi asked.

“What are shrimp?” the man named Gerard asked.

“Like these,” Mhagi said, pointing to the baskets, “but they swim in the sea without wings.”

“The sea?” the woman asked, looking at Mhagi with a puzzled look.

“I’ve never walked that far,” Gerard said. “I’m told it is simply water as far as the eye can see.”

Tomykas laughed beside her. The sound relived her. He sounded better than he had the day before.

“It is, at that.” He covered his ears. “Is it always this loud here?”

“No. The cicadas come every 19 years.”

The four stared at each other, with growing unease.

“I’m Gertie,” the young woman said at last, “and this is my brother Gerard.”

“I’m… Maggie. This is Tom.”

Gertie peered at Tomykas, and then at Mhagi’s distended belly, and finally the donkey, who had settled into a stupor. She shared a glance with Gerard.

“Do you live nearby?” Gerard asked.

“We seek the mountains,” Tomykas said.

Gertie laughed. “You’re in them.”

“No, not this endless sea of trees. We seek the golden fields and snow-capped peaks.”

Gertie shared another glance with Gerard, one of concern.

“Come with me,” Gerard said. “Let’s see if these are the ones you mean.”

He led them up the side of a hill. When they crested it, the trees fell away. A broad expanse of yellow grass waved in a breeze like waves on a sea. Brilliant blue sky swallowed the horizon. Beyond, a ridge of undulating hills rose to snowy-white peaks.

Mhagi cried out. Tomykas took her hand, sinking to his knees. He stared at the ground. When he lifted his face, tears glistened on his cheek.

Mhagi’s throat felt thick. Her heart pounded, drowning out the sound of the bugs.

“Yes. Yes! Those are the mountains we seek!”

She cried, and Tomykas with her, holding each other as they shuddered and sobbed. She felt Gertie’s hand on her shoulder.

“That’s Summerling Ridge,” Gertie said at her ear. “Have you not seen it before?”

Mhagi shook her head, still too stunned to speak.

The pair of strangers left them alone, huddling awkwardly nearby, whispering to each other. Mhagi could not make out their words behind the omnipresent buzzing of sick aida wings. The two came to a decision and approached them. Gertie knelt and took Mhagi’s hand.

“Your donkey won’t last much longer. And forgive me, miss, but you won’t be in a condition to hike soon. Tell us where you’re headed. We’ll get you on a wagon and help you on your way.”

“We’re headed there, “ she said, pointing. “That’s all I know.”

“Where have you come from?” Gerard asked.

“Cantlesport,” Tomykas replied.

Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “I… see. Must have been a tough journey. Do you know the name of the village you’re headed for?”

“One with elk.”

“And geese,” Mhagi added.

“That describes most of them.”

The baby twisted in her belly, kicking hard, and Mhagi moaned from a sudden sharp pain.

“Our village is known as Hiehaven,” Gertie said in a rush. “A place to escape the bustle and just be one with the ground and sky. It might be just what you need. Would you like us to take you there?”

She felt Tomykas’s strong hands lift her up. “We’d appreciate that,” he said, supporting her with his arms. “Can you walk?”

Mhagi nodded, clenching her teeth.

“No need for that,” Gerard said. “Our wagon is nearby. I’ll fetch it.”

Before the sun had hardly moved in the sky, Mhagi lay in a small wooden wagon. Baskets of winged shrimp buzzed around her. Gerard and Tomykas placed the last of their belongings in the back to give the donkey a break. Gertie sat up front and made a clicking sound with her tongue. The two horses started walking. As the cart pulled ahead, Mhagi saw Gerard and Tomykas walking, leading a relieved donkey between them, who ate several handfuls of oats appreciatively.

Mhagi sighed, closed her eyes, and slept gratefully, lulled by the rhythm of the rocking wagon.