Chapter 9
Rocks - Moshoi
It wasn’t long before Tuka returned eagerly with the requested tools. He spread them out in front of me so I could inspect them in the flickering torchlight along our balcony. I tested the blade of the saw to be sure it was sharp. Tuka watched me with anticipation.
“You have done well Tuka.”
“I have also brought hardtack biscuits and even some jug kabobs,” Tuka announced, as he unrolled some jugs wrapped in cloths to reveal several clay jars closed with bread paste that contained the traditional mixture of dried, salted meat, and vegetables sealed within. Tuka knew that this was my favorite meal.
“The jug kabobs will be heavy to bring.” I said, and then, seeing his face drop, I added, “but I will eat one now and bring a few for the first couple of nights,” not wanting to disappoint him too badly, since I knew he was only trying to please me.
“I have also brought a bag of grain.” Tuka said and lowered it to the floor.
“Then what will father feed to the animals, and what will our family eat when they awaken?” I asked. One of the main reasons a watcher stayed awake was to feed our livestock that we kept deep within the cave throughout the harsh, dry summer, since they did not know how to hibernate. The caves contained a labyrinth of rooms, and the entrance was sealed with a giant round stone from within to keep out intruders.
“Perhaps we could speak to our neighboring watchers to see if they might each spare a little for the journey?” Tuka suggested.
“And what would you say if someone came to you with that suggestion, while you were watching? Would you give up even a little of your family’s grain?” I asked thoughtfully, even as I wondered whether such a scheme might be feasible.
Tuka thought for a moment and then responded, “Nobody has ever asked such a thing, but I would give a little if there was a good reason. If each family gives just a small amount, it would be enough.”
I didn’t think it was very likely. After all, what reason could I give to go on such a journey, in the middle of the drought season, when I should be hibernating? But we couldn’t take such a large amount from our family and livestock, I knew that much, and it would be a suicide mission to take off without provisions.
“Let me give it some more thought,” I said hesitantly.
“If you decide you want me to ask them, I’ll do my best,” Tuka said, and I knew he would.
I started thinking out loud to Tuka, trying to formulate a plan:
“I have no idea how to get to Tzoladia. So before starting on our journey, we will first need to travel higher into the mountains to visit Rhabdom’s cave to receive directions. After that, we can hike back here to start our journey. We should probably take one of the yakamas as a pack animal, but I can’t imagine that father would allow it. I must warn you: I’ve heard that hostile tribes live between Hattom and Tzoladia, and there will be bands of robbers along the way. Wild animals roam the countryside. We will need to bring our swords, axes, and bolas.”
“Our journey? So you will let me come?” he said, ignoring the dangers I had just outlined.
“Only if father will allow it, which I’m almost sure he will not, so don’t get your hopes up.” Although I had the full, scaled beard of a man, it would still be dishonorable for me to leave without informing our father.
“How far away is Rhabdom’s cave?” Tuka inquired. Tuka had never been there. Father had only allowed me to visit Rhabdom, who was a skilled potter, because of his vast knowledge of materials useful to blade smiths such as ourselves.
“Long enough that I’ll need to spend the night there.” I answered. I thought for a moment and then continued, “I will go alone to Rhabdom’s. I have to come back down the mountain anyway, so I can stop by here on the way. By then, I will have a complete plan to present to father.”
“Are you tricking me?” Tuka asked, swallowing hard. “You will return before the long journey, won't you?”
“Of course I will,” I said. “I will need to return for provisions. Since I have to back track it makes no sense for me to take everything with me.”
Tuka brightened. “Yes, of course, that is the sensible plan. Although I would have liked to have met Rhabdom and seen his cave.”
“I will cook one of the kabob jugs now and take the other one to Rhabdom as a gift.” I said. I was incredibly hungry and starting to feel faint.
While we were eating, the sun came up. After finishing a fine meal, I took a small skin of water, a bit of hard tack, the other kabob jug, my cestus, sling, and sword, and I started up the stone stairs that were cut into the hill behind our house. Our house was not built into one of the hat-like formations that sprang up from the valley, but was on the side of the larger hills that led to Rhabdom’s hermit cave.
“I don’t know how long I will need to stay with Rhabdom to get all the instructions I need. Don’t worry if it seems to take longer than you expect,” I told Tuka. “And don’t follow me. It would be dangerous for you to leave our family unguarded with the stone rolled open.”
“I know, I will keep to my job as a watcher for now,” Tuka said.
I had to admit that I did not blame him for wanting to come on the adventure. We had heard tales of Tzoladia that sparked the flames of the imagination with dreams of dazzling riches. Although the various tribes of Hattom were allowed to rule ourselves, we still supplied the Emperor Zoltov with an annual tribute of minerals, metalwork, and mercenaries. Traditionally, some of the Armored had formed an elite group of bodyguards that protected the emperor. This past spring, we had begun to work on filling the emperor’s order for hundreds of metal stirrups. I wondered if that meant that the emperor was preparing for war with Karsos, a city far to the west.
I was hungry for adventure. Although I had been in border skirmishes with warriors from tribes with whom we were not allied, those men were Armored cave dwellers who lived much like we did, and whatever was won seemed to go back and forth between tribes depending on who won the latest battle. Real glory was to be won in Tzoladia!
I picked my way among the rocks, noting the landmarks so that I did not get lost. I had to be ever on my watch for hydois, which lived in dens in the mountains and hunted in packs. Especially during the drought season, they were desperate for food and would not hesitate to kill a man. Expert climbers, they had rubber-like padding on the soles of their feet and a hard outer layer on their hooves made of the same material as the plates on our backs, which helped them to gain toeholds on the narrow ledges. They could jump as high as the height of two men and as far in a long jump as four men lying head to toe. I was not much of a match for one of them in climbing or jumping, let alone if I should encounter a group.
Many men have been killed by these carnivores masquerading as innocent herbivores. Like chamois, they are tawny with a black stripe along the back and black marks below the eyes. They have short horns that curve backwards on their heads. People see them from a distance and assume they are not predators. But I knew that they were dangerous monsters, with horns that went straight for the jugular, and sharp long canines that could rip a person apart. I knew of no other animal that sported both horns and sharp teeth. Maybe I should not have brought the kabob jug with me after all, since it might attract the hydois.
I wound in and out of the rocks. When I turned and looked down on the valley, I saw beneath me a magical land with conical pillar-like rocks mounding up in various shapes and sizes, sometimes with twisting points. Some were tall and some were short. Almost all of them had stairs winding up to arched doorways in the sky, which I knew led to caves carved deep into the volcanic rock. The soft rock turned hard when exposed to the air, but was easy to carve underneath.
Perhaps I should not have admired the view so long. As I was turning back to face the hill, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a movement. Then, I saw a head with spiraled backwards-curved horns.
Was it a lovely chamois or a dreaded hydois? There would be no way to t
ell, unless it opened its mouth, and if I could see inside of its mouth, it would be too late. Better to be on the safe side of the rock. I did not stare at it, so I would not appear to be challenging it. I knew better than to run. Slowly, I bent and picked up several stones, then put one in my sling and started twirling it. In an instant, the animal had turned and leapt to a higher rock and disappeared. Probably a chamois, then. I breathed in relief.
I began my climb in earnest again. As I hurried along, my thoughts couldn’t help but go to Lasulla, with her big brown eyes and soft dark feathers. Armored men’s heads were covered with scales, but our women’s heads were adorned with feathers. I knew she would be a rock right now, which meant that I would not be able to say goodbye to her. How would she feel when she knew that I was gone and that I had unchivalrously left without saying goodbye? Would she wait for me?
The chamois seemed to have stopped running and was picking its way back toward me, seemingly looking among the rocks for any tufts of green…or was it a hydois looking for bugs or rodents among the rocks?
Then I noticed another one appear off to my left. The chamois travelled in herds, just like the hydois roamed in packs. When a third one appeared on the rock up above me, I tensed, readying myself to fight. I glanced behind me and saw a fourth. I was surrounded, and I knew: definitely hydois.
Once again, I placed a rock in my sling and swirled it over my head while yelling. Perhaps this would be enough intimidation to make them go away. I slung the rock at the one in front of me, hoping to improve my odds. I missed.
Acting as if they were attached to a cord that pulled them in, they all leapt toward me at once. I drew my sword and slashed in a circle. I was able to connect with the one that came at me from above, and the others backed off snarling. Each would move in and then rapidly back out. I moved quickly and this time lunged with my sword instead of slashing. Two down. The odds were getting better. The third lowered its horns and charged at me. I dodged and then stabbed its neck. Now, it was one on one. I was starting to feel the excitement that comes with the speed and the kill.
This kill would have meant food, if I had brought the means to transport it. The last hydois and I were lunging and dodging, when, to my dismay, a group of about eight more hydois appeared within jumping distance from me. I was a dead man, or I would have to act like one.
After tossing my kabob jug onto a distant rock, hoping that the tasty morsels that spilled onto the stone would distract some of the hydois, I took one last stab at the hydois in front of me, sliced him in the haunches, and then dropped my sword to take a defensive posture. Quickly, I clutched my spiked cestus and fell to the ground in a ball with my underside and face covered, my knees pulled to my chest, exposing only my scaled back to the hungry beasts. My tight stomach muscles kept me in the ball, and I dug the cestus into the ground to keep me down. I prepared for the blows I knew were coming.
One after another, the hydois pounded me with their horns and tried to bite through the keratin layers on my back. The biggest danger was the possibility of them uncurling me, but I focused and stayed curled. The jarring hits grew fewer and further apart. I heard them circling and growling. I waited. I heard them moving away, but I could not tell how many left. Now the worst danger was for me to get up too soon. After what seemed like a full hibernation cycle of silence, I finally lifted my head enough to look.
Within inches of my face were two eyes with black streaks under them, in a head crowned with two black horns.