ROAD TO CORDIA (11 page)

     “Don’t,” she said. He continued to rip at her.

     She twisted under him, trying to get away. Turning her head away from his disgusting mouth, she could see the other prisoners lying with their backs to her. Could they really be sleeping with all the noise she and the guard were making? “Help me,” she begged. One of the sleeping figures hunched into a tighter ball, but none of them turned around to see what was going on.

     For a moment, the guard shifted his weight off her to do something to his leggings. Ja'Nil took the opportunity and kicked upward at him. She connected. He grunted and grabbed himself where she had kicked him. Ja'Nil scrambled to her feet and turned to run. The guard, still clutching at himself with one hand, grabbed her tunic with his other hand. Instead of falling, Ja'Nil twisted around and kicked out again. Her bare foot hit the guard just under the chin.

     Ow!

     Her foot felt broken. The man grunted, but managed to grab her ankle and yank it. As she fell Ja’Nil kicked out again. This time, her foot caught him in the throat. He let go of her foot and put both hands to his throat. Ja'Nil was up in a flash, the knife in her hand. She swiped at him. A line of bright blood appeared across his face. He screamed. She staggered away, bumping into sleeping figures, being cursed, and swatted at. She lost her balance and staggered against the iron bars of the pen. The bars moved!

     She did have a gift! Or in his haste to get to her, the guard had left the door of the slave pen unlocked. She pushed at it with all her might and it swung creakily open. Behind her, she could hear the guard crashing after her, cursing and kicking out at the sleeping prisoners. At least she hadn’t killed him.

     Ja'Nil was outside now, but it was a moonless night. She had no idea which direction led to safety. Arms out stretched, she started running and immediately smacked into a wall.  She bounced off it, bumping into the pursuing guard. “Gots ya,” he grunted. His voice slimy wet with satisfaction.

     Ja'Nil almost gave up. The guard’s hands, rough like rusted iron, were rubbing her arms raw as he whispered in her ear. “Afters I prongs ya, I gonna wrings ya scrawny neck.”

     Oh, wonderful, she thought with hysterical humor, not only was the man about to prong her, whatever that was, he was also insulting her scrawny body. On top of that, he was going to kill her.

     As he dragged her off, she stumbled and started to fall. He yanked at her impatiently. She let her body sag until she was lying on the hard, cold ground.

     “Gets up,” he said, then added for good measure. “I’ll makes ya dig ya own grave, I will.” He yanked at her, making Ja'Nil come up so suddenly that her head smashed into his chest, right over his heart. He made a gagging sound, dropped her arm, and staggered back. Ja'Nil whirled around and kicked out at him in perfect imitation of the men she had watched on the village green back home. She aimed for the heart and her aim was true. To her amazement, he dropped to his knees making strange croaking sounds.

     Ja'Nil didn’t wait around; she turned and ran into the darkness. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart, the pulsing of blood pounding in her ears. Gradually she became aware that something was running after her. Running faster than she was. It was about to catch her. Suddenly the night was alive with sounds again. Men were shouting. Her own breath was rasping in her throat, but most of all, something was running, running, faster and faster behind her. Something was panting, whining with eagerness. Something was about to--

     She was hit from behind. Right between the shoulder blades. Had someone thrown a lance into her back? Was she about to die as the man from the sailmakers’ clan had died?

     She was running so fast that whatever hit her made her stagger, but did not knock her down. There was a vicious growl. It’s the wolf! The wolf would tear out her throat, kill her like a defenseless sheep. Sharp teeth closed around her right forearm, clamping down with incredible pressure. Still staggering forward, she turned her head to see a large mastiff, glaring red-eyed with deadly intent as his jaws ground deeper into her arm. She raised her left arm and punched him in the nose. He made a pitiful whining sound and loosened his grip, but he did not let go. Any minute, she expected her arm to break. Would she even feel it when it did?  Already it was numb. He was pulling at her now, trying to drag her to the earth. She hit him again and again in the nose. If he got her down, she was dead. Then she was going down. Falling. She braced herself, but instead of the shock of hitting the earth, she continued to fall.

     The mastiff fell with her. Had they gone over a cliff? How many ways could a person die? Unbelievably the dog still had her arm between his teeth. They were going to die together. She opened her mouth to yell, but never got the chance. They hit the water and went under. It was so shockingly sudden that all her muscles contracted. Her lungs were too frozen to function. The powerful current swept her under. She was going to drown. After all this time, after doing everything she could to avoid deadly waters, she was going to drown. It was almost a relief to accept her fate.

     She was just another piece of flotsam. Every once in a while, the river would toss her up into the night air. But mostly she was carried along, tossed and turned, bumped and bumping under water. Somewhere along the way, she and the mastiff parted company. Whether or not she still had her arm was uncertain, her whole body was too numb to feel anything as minor as an amputated arm. After a while, she realized she was no longer cold. She was still being pulled under, and then tossed up into the air, but her pain had vanished. A feeling of soft luxury filled her body. Dying wasn’t so bad after all.

     Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. It was her mother, smiling at her. Her smile was so loving. Ja'Nil badly needed to be loved. And there was her father! He grinned at her and winked. Was it all right for her to join them? Did they forgive her?

     To give up, to relax into death’s grip, to join her family, was that so wrong? Her parents, smiling gently at her, waved good-bye.

     Good-bye? ‘No, wait,’ she wanted to yell. ‘I’m coming with you. Wait for me.’

     She tried to swim to their undulating forms. She was getting closer. In a moment, she would be able to touch them. In a moment-- Crash!

* * *

    
Crash. Crash! Bitter cold. Soaked to the bone, with the wind driving the waves higher and higher, tearing her father’s fishing boat to pieces. Ja’Nil inches her way towards her father, who is trapped under the fallen mast. Yonny screams. She turns in time to see the dingy being flung out over the rail of the ship, and then slammed back onto the deck. Now it is nothing more than splinters. Thank the Lord, Yonny had disobeyed her and crawled out of the destroyed dingy. Ja'Nil reaches her father, but he is dead. His eyes wide, staring into eternity. Automatically, Ja'Nil says the prayer for the dead, “May you enter the paradise of forever,” and makes the sign of the circle on her father’s forehead. . Now, it is just she and Yonny. If only this were just some horrible dream.

CHAPTER 12

     Ja'Nil woke with a crushing headache. She was lying on a grassy bank with her feet still in the river. Blood, wet and sticky, was dripping off her forehead. Someone, inept and clumsy, was trying to wipe it off.

     Ja'Nil waved her hand in a feeble attempt to be left alone. “Don’t,” she tried to say, but no sound came out.

     “Is she alive, then?” asked a very young sounding voice.

     “She movered,” answered another voice, even younger sounding.

     “But is it intentional movement?” asked another. This voice was older, but still that of a child.

     “What’s intentionaled?” asked the very young voice.

     Smart little digger, thought Ja'Nil. She tried to move. Uh-huh. Her head felt as if it were split in two, or three. Oh, God, she couldn’t possibly live feeling this awful.

     “She’s gonna be alive ‘cause we druggered her out of the water,” pointed out the middle voice.

     “Except for her feet,” said the eldest with pompous accuracy.

     “Cause she’s too heavery,” said the youngest voice. A small hand patted Ja'Nil gently on her cheek. “Lady, are you alive?”

     “She’s not a lady,” protested the eldest child’s voice. “She’s just a kid like us.”

     “But she’s an old kid,” said the middle voice.

     Ja'Nil was getting tired of being talked about as if she was a stick of wood. Just to refocus the conversation, she tried to sit up. Nope. Sitting up was definitely going to have to wait. She did manage to bend her legs and remove her cold feet from the water.

     “She’s alive!” said the piercing voice of the youngest. “She’s alive, she’s alive,” the kid chanted, dancing around with delight.

     Ja'Nil opened her right eye. Immediately, bright sunlight flooded in. Oh Lord, her head! She snapped her eye closed. However, there was no escaping. Someone was poking at her with a sticky finger. She might as well give up and get on with life. “Go away,” she groaned.

     “Can’t,” said the middle voice.

     “Gotta monious Gramps fore we traipse,” said the lispy little voice.

     Monious? What kind of word was monious? Very slowly, Ja'Nil raised her head. Jadµ, Jadµ, that was far enough. She looked around. She was half lying, half sitting on a green river bank. A little to her right, three children, ranging in age from around four to ten, watched her anxiously. They were Sky People and wore the green of Mummers. They had the same straight bright red hair and burnished dark skin as O’Keeven. The little boy’s rounded ears even stuck out slightly, as O’Keeven’s had. They might even be kin to him.

    
Oh, wonderful, just what I need, more Mummers.

     Definitely not to be trusted.

     Further off, an adult was lying asleep in the shade of a Gumble tree. No one else was visible, no guards with whips and murderous lances, no huge mastiffs trying to chew her arm off. She looked hastily down at her right forearm. It was still attached. There were ragged tears from the mastiff’s teeth, blood was seeping out, and the whole forearm was slightly swollen. No doubt, by tomorrow it would be bruised from wrist to elbow. Apparently, the river had washed her arm clean. Still, what she really needed was a healer to forestall infection.

     “We pulled you out of the river,” said the middle child, a girl about six or seven.

     “Thank you,” replied Ja'Nil.

     “You’re sooo heavery,” said the youngest and immediately stuck his thumb in his mouth.

     Ja'Nil managed to turn her aching head to look at the oldest child, a girl who was regarding Ja'Nil with obvious suspicion. “Where am I?” asked Ja'Nil.

     The girl shrugged, “I dunno. On the way to the Lady’s Keep.”

     Well, that told her a lot. “What Lady?”

     Silence. Then the little boy spoke up. “We gotta monious Gramps ‘fore we can traipse.”

     That weird word again. Slowly, Ja'Nil got to her feet. The world swirled around her. She staggered and held very still until the dizziness passed. She ached all over. She was barefoot and her clothes were literally indecent rags. Not only was she lost, but apparently she owed her life to Mummers. O’Keeven was a mummer. She hated Mummers. As she stood, the children backed away from her, towards the sleeping adult. Ja'Nil definitely intended to be gone before he woke up.

     She looked around. Which way should she go? All she could see were the river and the green countryside.

     “You gonna help us monious Gramps?” asked the little boy.

     “Monious?” The little boy nodded. “What’s he talking about,” Ja'Nil asked the oldest child.

     “It don’t matter,” said the girl. “None of your business anyway.”

     Thank goodness for that.

      “I appreciate you pulling me out of the river,” she said politely and turned on unsteady legs to head down-river. That’s when the little boy started crying. Ja'Nil couldn’t stand to hear little ones crying. It reminded her too vividly of--. “Will you stop that noise?” This naturally made him cry harder. It was amazing how much noise one little boy could make while sucking on his thumb.

     “Don’t go,” said a little voice. It was so low that Ja'Nil almost didn’t hear it over the wailing of the boy. It was the little girl who had spoken.

     At least she wasn’t sucking her thumb. “How old are you?” asked Ja'Nil.

     “Six,” said the middle girl. “Little Piet is four,” she added, pointing at the boy. “And Sa’Ari is nine.”

     “You don’t have to tell everything,” said the nine year old angrily. “She don’t have to know. I told ya, we don’t tell nobody nothing.”

     Ja'Nil studied the three children. Little Piet, still sucking his thumb,  had stopped wailing and was now hiccupping quietly while tears dripped from his blue eyes. Sa’Ari the oldest was glaring at her, while the middle girl stared up at Ja'Nil as if she was their last hope of salvation.

     “What’s your name?” Ja'Nil asked the six-year-old girl.

     “Jari.”

     “Just, Jari?”

     “Ah-huh.”

     Sa’Ari and Jari and Little Piet, nine, six and four. Ja'Nil looked over at the sleeping adult. He hadn’t moved at all. “Is that your Gramps?”

     The two girls said nothing, but Little Piet, thumb still in mouth, nodded, yes.

     “What’s wrong with him?” Ja'Nil asked.

     “Nothin’,” said Sa’Ari, the eldest. The other two children stared at her in simultaneous amazement.

     With an inward sigh, Ja'Nil forced herself to walk over to the unmoving adult. An old man, hair mostly white, skin, instead of being a burnished black, was dusty looking and slack. His eyes were closed, but his mouth hung open. He had good teeth, she noticed. Good teeth or not, he was definitely dead. She could see no marks of violence on him. No sign of discomfort of any kind, but then, there wouldn’t be at this point in his existence. He was fully dressed. His aged tunic had been washed so many times it was a pale, soft, indefinite color.