Refugees
Chapter 8
Mud - Amanki
The boy bending over in the boat stood abruptly while the others all froze. The noise was coming from behind him, beyond the cluster of houses across the canal, but he seemed too scared to turn and instead looked directly forward at me.
“What is that?” he asked, wide eyed.
“Mud beasts!” I exclaimed. “Run!”
After one glimpse of the advancing torrent, the boys all splashed out of the shallow water and ran toward their home. I called after them, “Escape to the river!”
I hoped they would somehow make it to safety. Quickly placing the string with the cylinder seal over my neck so my hands would be free, I jumped into the water beside the boat, pulled up the bag of stones, and pushed off from the shore. I had just grabbed the oars when I noticed a graceful figure wrapped in her long white robe coming toward me from the reeds. I recognized her immediately as the herbalist.
“Please let me come,” she pleaded from the shore.
“Hurry!” I called back without even thinking twice.
She dove into the water and swam to my boat with swift strong kicks, holding a bag above the water in one hand. I reached over the side, grabbed her under her arms, and pulled her in.
“Can you row?” I asked, pointing to the oars Baskrod had used before.
“I’ll do my best,” she replied, and dropping the bag on top of one of the blankets, she sat between the other oars and started to row. I tried to row in unison with her, but her strokes were slower than mine.
OOOEEEEEIIIII, a shrill sound rang across the fields. Relieved, I recognized the call of the ram’s horn reverberating from the village. At least a warning had been sounded, probably by the family I had met. Maybe a handful of these villagers would escape to the fishing boats along the banks. I looked over my shoulder toward the river. A dazzling sun was coming up in the direction we were headed, its rays reaching across the canal water to our boat.
“Pull!” I yelled, quickening my strokes. Manhera was trying, but she did not have Baskrod’s strength. Meanwhile, Baskrod did not stir in the boat.
I glanced north toward the thunderous noise. Now that the sun was up, I could clearly see the approaching mud beasts. It was apparent that some had swum across the canals since the mud on their bodies was splotchy, and they were dripping wet. The beasts were like large, strong donkeys with long legs, short pointy ears, and long-haired tails. Bearded men with stiff manes straddled the backs of the animals. The men carried coiled ropes, curved bows, long spears and decorated axes. The axes had metal heads with a sharp, curved edge on one side, and a pointed end on the other. As the beasts swept down toward us, the men’s bodies turned and flowed perfectly with the rapidly moving beasts, as if the two were one.
My arms and head were aching. The effort and the fear made me start to feel dizzy again. The distance to the river seemed so much further than when I had come down the canal. Why aren’t we there yet? Some of the approaching mud beasts were already circling the mud brick houses above the canal, emitting the same hair-raising screams I had heard before.
One lone rider on a black horse separated from the others and headed past the houses toward us. When he pulled the ropes which were strung through his animal’s mouth, the beast stopped. Raising its front legs high into the air while balancing on its hind legs, the beast let out a high pitched whistle that sounded almost as if it were laughing. The man scanned the horizon along the river and then along the canal as if looking for something.
I would have known this demon enemy with the hawk-like nose anywhere. To my horror, he stopped looking around when he spotted my boat. He kicked the beast with his heels which caused the beast to spurt toward us.
My heart fell to my stomach. I knew the beasts could swim, but I had no way of knowing how quickly. I wished I had brought my slings. Filled with fear and anger, I kicked a blanket near my feet to search for Baskrod’s trident. I could not let this monster take us alive.