Seers of Verde: The Legend Fulfilled: Book One (23 page)

With the sun starting to set, Ganick headed back toward the entrance. With a little luck he would be able to make it back to camp, where Hubart and Onji waited for him, before nightfall. As he started to pass back through the fissure, he turned to admire his discovery one more time.

“What a perfect place to grow my family's honey fruit,” he said to himself, then turned and hurried away.

22

Raaf Vonn and the other climbers exchanged wide grins when they successfully navigated Mt. Barrasca’s gap and found their way into familiar territory. Even Darya started humming as she recognized the landmarks that meant they were close to home.

Stopping suddenly, Darya turned to her brother, a serious look on her face. After all they’d been through together, the troop stopped as one. They had learned to trust her implicitly, so when she halted, the other Nuvens also stopped.

“What is it, Darya?” Raaf asked. He and the others scanned the area for danger, but saw nothing.

Darya gazed at Raaf. “I miss Mama’s cooking. Time to go home.” The other Nuvens broke into howls of laughter at her serious announcement. The troop had been gone for almost three lunars, and this was the first time Darya had given any indication she missed home.

Raaf shook his head in disbelief, then playfully mussed his sister’s hair. “Yes, Darya, we should be home for last meal. I’m sure Mama and Papa missed you, too — even me.”

The happy troop continued their journey at an eager pace. They laughed and joked about the heroes’ welcome they would receive when reaching home. They were the first Nuvens to successfully cross Mt. Barrasca, discover the mysteriously hidden gap to Verde Valley, and make contact with the others who, until now, only existed in legend.

Only now did the troop realize the magnitude of their achievement. The members chatted excitedly about the opportunities of a wonderful new life in the peaceful, bountiful Verde Valley. Knowing their fellow Nuvens would demand proof of their adventure, the troop had agreed the best way to convince their people was to present them with live examples — two young Verdans, who had eagerly volunteered to make the trek back home with them. No Nuven climbing party had ever returned from an attempted climb of Barrasca with more members than it set out with.

The climbers were traveling at a steady pace, a bit slow for the Nuvens, but grueling for the inexperienced Verdans, when they reached the mourning rock. The giant pinnacle had an unusually flat surface. The names of climbers who never returned were etched into it.

When they stopped to pay their respects, according to tradition, Juban Caleria cried out in surprise. “Oh no, look at the newest names on the rock. They think we died on the mountain!”

The climbers quickly gathered and gazed where Juban was pointing. All their names were freshly etched into the surface. At the base of the rock were flowers and memorabilia of each climber.

“They think we’re dead, but we left them messages along the route that we found,” Juban groaned as he sifted through the personal items left by their families. “My favorite hunting knife. They left this to honor me.”

Darya recognized her drawing of the bee on the flower, the last one she finished before embarking on the climb. She held it up and looked at Raaf, puzzled. “This is mine. Why is it here?”

Her brother patted her shoulder, “Mama and Papa left this as a gift.”

Darya shrugged. “I not understand,” but she put it back exactly where it had been placed.

Raaf looked at the others. “We have to hurry back. Our families think we’re dead. I can’t imagine their grief.” Without pausing, he barked out orders. “Ganick, we need someone to guide our Verdan friends and keep an eye on Darya while the rest of us make haste back to the village.”

Ganick Nels started to protest, but stopped. He understood the Verdans and Darya could not keep up with the frantic pace Raaf and the others would maintain while they raced back home.

“Agreed,” he said with a nod. “We will travel as fast as possible. May the ancestors protect you.”

Raaf took Darya gently by the face, so she would look at him. “Ganick will bring you home. I have to hurry back.”

Darya smiled. Satisfied that she understood, Raaf turned and left with the other Nuvens at a hunter’s sprint. The Verdans were amazed at how quickly Raaf and the others disappeared into the forest line. They apologized to Ganick for slowing him.

“It is an honor to protect and guide you to our home village,” he said, gesturing for them to continue their journey.

¶ ¶ ¶

Raaf and the others kept up a steady but quick pace through the forest as they hurried home. He envisioned shouts of relief and tears of joy from the villagers when they finally greeted them. However, as the troop crested the last ridge that led to the village, they stopped and gazed with horror at the sight of dozens of smoke plumes snaking into the sky. Breathing heavily from their trek, the troop stared wide-eyed at the scene.

“That, that can’t be funeral pyres for us, there’s too many,” Juban stammered.

Still gasping for air, Raaf wiped the sweat from his face, took a quick gulp from his canteen, and sprinted at full speed toward the village with the others on his heels. The troop was moving so quickly, a lookout did not recognize the running men and blew his alarm horn. Nearby, a woman screamed in fright. “Intruders!”

Not wanting to cause a panic, Raaf halted, tried to catch his breath, and called out the village welcome. Before the signal was barely out of his mouth, ten men with drawn knives surrounded the troop. Instinctively, Raaf and his troop held out their hands to show they carried no weapons. The other men advanced cautiously.

Finally, a voice called out. “Look! It’s the climbers! They’ve returned!” Shouts of greetings filled the air as Raaf and his troop were surrounded and thumped on their backs by the well-wishers.

Raaf grasped one of the other men on the shoulder. “What happened here? Why are there so many funeral pyres?”

Sakir Purvill shook his head sadly. “Tanlians. It was the worst attack I’ve ever seen. They dropped explosives in many of the villages. Hundreds were killed. However, many of us were able to escape to safety in the caves. When they landed to harvest the survivors, we surprised and killed many of them. Only a few escaped back to their ships.”

Raaf stared in disbelief. “Tanlians did this? We should have been here to help.”

Sakir shook his head. “You cannot change the past. Many are still alive. We are Nuvens. We always survive. But what of you and your troop? Did you get lost?”

Raaf started to answer when he was interrupted by a screaming woman running toward him with her arms held out.

“Oh, the ancestors, you are alive!” Marna cried, hugging her son so tightly he could barely breathe. After a few moments, she looked around. Fearing the worst, she grabbed his arms. “Where is Darya? Why isn’t she with you?”

Raaf calmed her with a hug. “Darya will be here soon. She is coming with the others. We saw our names on the mourning rock so a few of us rushed home.”

Other hysterical shouts of joy were heard as relieved parents welcomed the climbers home.

Raaf grinned as he watched, then looked around. “Where’s Papa?” The color melted from Marna’s face. She hugged her son and wept bitterly.

Sakir patted Raaf’s shoulder. “Your father died fighting the attackers. He saved a group of young girls from being dragged into a collector ship and killed three Tanlians while doing it.”

Raaf sunk to his knees, sobbing. Of all the people he wanted to tell of his triumph, his father would have been the proudest.

Marna stroked her son’s thick curly hair. “What happened to you and the others? We gave you up for dead.”

Raaf wiped away tears as he looked at his mother. “We did it. We crossed the mountain. Darya somehow could see through the fog, and we all followed. We found the others, Mama. They are waiting for us in a beautiful, peaceful valley.”

23

Yseni scowled as she read the report. The numbers of Nuvens pouring into Verde Valley was startling, much more than even the most pessimistic of predictions. “Can this be correct?” the High Seer growled as she tossed the parchment in disgust on her table. “It won’t be long until they equal the Verdan population.”

The nervous Tarylan guard shifted on his feet. He was not accustomed to being scolded by the most powerful woman on Verde. “By all accounts this is just an estimate because groups of Nuvens scatter quickly into unsettled areas as soon as they enter the great valley,” he said.

Yseni looked up; her mood looked even darker. “What do you mean by estimate?”

The guard winced as if he had just been whipped. “It’s hard to count them all,” he murmured. “They pass through at all hours of the day and night. We, ah, we feel there could be many more than this number.”

The High Seer stood up and angrily gestured for the man to leave, which he gladly obeyed after a quick perfunctory bow. Yseni leaned down on the table and took another look at the startling numbers.

“Well, are you going to tell me how many Nuvens we have welcomed to the valley?” Seer Zasha asked as she watched her friend’s cheeks flush with anger.

Yseni glared at the other woman, but said nothing. She slid the parchment down the table for Zasha to read.

“My goodness, these accounts vary,” Zasha said as she scanned the report. “So it could be anywhere from five thousand to seven thousand with hundreds more arriving every day. I had no idea there would be so many.”

The High Seer stomped around her room in frustration. She was not afraid to show her displeasure in front of her childhood friend. “They are like insects swarming to rotten fruit,” Yseni snapped. “It won’t be long before there are no Nuvens left in the hunter valley.”

Zasha tried to comfort the High Seer. “That’s not what I am hearing, Yseni. The Tarylan guards we have stationed at the mouth of the gap to ‘welcome’ the Nuvens have told us many hunters have chosen to stay in their valley.”

Yseni just shook her head. “The Tanlians will grow discouraged with much fewer hard-to-find hunters scattered through the mountains. I fear their curiosity will eventually lead them here despite our best efforts to stop them.”

Zasha sighed, knowing her report would only darken Yseni’s mood. The High Seer glanced momentarily at the other woman then remembered why she was there. “Ah, forgive me, Zasha. I was too upset by the migration numbers. I forgot about your convert report. At least with all these new people, there will more to worship Mother Verde.”

Zasha dreaded the expected reaction. Even though she had known Yseni all her life, the woman was still the High Seer and prone to violent mood swings.

She spoke soothingly, hoping her tone would soften the message. “It appears the Nuvens are as adamant about their ancestor worship as we are about Mother Verde. So far, less than a hundred have indicated any interest in converting.”

The High Seer turned and glared at Zasha. “Out with it. How many are there? You have never been reluctant to tell me the truth.”

Zasha tried to prepare herself for the ensuing storm of emotion that was about to erupt. “To date, thirty-seven have committed their lives to Mother Verde.”

Yseni was struck speechless — quite the opposite reaction Zasha had been expecting. She shuffled toward her chair and slumped down. “The Nuvens have been escaping here for six lunars now and only thirty-seven are converting to worship Mother Verde? This is the best you and the other elder Seers have been able to accomplish?”

Zasha shrugged. “You cannot force a conversion. Most of the Nuvens are very proud of their heritage and protective of their beliefs. The few we’ve been able to convince are craftsmen who are interested in trading with us. I suspect their intentions are based on improving their lot in life rather than a change in belief.”

Yseni covered her face in her hands and moaned. “I knew it was a mistake to allow those first Nuvens who found us to return alive. Our way of life will be threatened by those pagans as well as the Tanlians who will come looking for them.”

¶ ¶ ¶

No smiles were evident as the High Council of Seers stared at the construction site. The walls of a temple were taking shape from the giant slabs of rock being placed with great expertise by Nuven stonemasons with the eager help of Verdan workers.

“How long has this been going on?” Yseni asked the captain of the Tarylan guards.

The man shrugged. “About five lunars, perhaps a bit longer.”

The High Seer frowned as she stood with her hands on her hips, then she snapped, “Bring me the Verdan foreman now.”

Daman Bafer and another man approached the group of Seers. “What an honor it is to see the High Council of Seers. How can I be of service?” Daman, the Verdan, said while bowing.

Yseni waved him over. “The High Council was not aware another temple to Mother Verde was being built. Why were we not consulted?” she asked, her eyes glinting with displeasure. "Who is this Nuven?”

Daman was surprised at her tone. Only now, as he looked from Seer to Seer, did he notice the women were not admiring the activity. “Forgive me, High Seer, but we are not building a temple in honor of Mother Verde. The Nuvens have asked for help to build a temple where they can worship their ancestors in peace and feel safe from the marauders who they say have been attacking them for generations.”

Daman gestured for the other man to join them. "High Seer, it is my honor to introduce Cantero Bergmann, the most gifted stonemason I have ever worked with. I am told his ancestor helped save the Nuvens from the marauders after they were separated from the first colonists.”

Cantero, a small man with wide muscular shoulders, gave a slight bow. He regarded the Seers for a moment then turned to survey the flurry of workers. Pride shown in his strange blue-green eyes at the progress being made.

“The other Verdans and I tried to tell the Nuvens we have never seen these Tanlians they are so fearful of, but were honored they asked us for our help,” Daman said. “We Verdans are whole now that the lost ones have returned to us. The prophecy has come true. It is our duty to help them.”

Yseni stared at Daman, but he looked back at her with the confidence of one who believes in his mission. The High Seer gave a slight nod to acknowledge what he had told her. “Ah yes, the prophecy. Of course the High Council and I are delighted the prophecy has been fulfilled. Thank you for your time, foreman. And, thank your friend for his efforts.”

Relieved at being dismissed, Daman thanked them for their attention and gestured for Cantero to follow him back to the work site. The Verdan was puzzled by the Seers’ curious reaction, but did not let it bother him as he and his Nuven friend returned to the important task.

Zasha shook her head as she approached Yseni. “I see the story hasn’t died despite our best efforts.”

The High Seer snorted with disgust. “We have protected our people for two centuries now, but they still have clung to that ridiculous myth that the lost ones from the colony ship that brought us to Verde would rejoin us.”

Zasha held up her hands in a helpless gesture. “As much as we dislike the latest events, it appears the prophecy has come true.”

Yseni was about to snap back a retort when she noticed one of the Tarylan guards standing by himself. The young man stood with his arms crossed. He glowered with a simmering anger as he watched the building of the Nuven temple.

“Who is that Tarylan? He looks familiar.” she asked.

Zasha smiled. “He is probably the only Verdan who hates the Nuvens more than you. Remember? That is Vitor Pratern, the lone guard who survived the skirmish with those first Nuvens who found their way to our valley.”

The High Seer nodded as she remembered the troop she had ordered to intercept and kill the Nuven climbers before they could contact the Verdan population. However, the Nuvens proved to be fierce fighters. Of the sixteen Tarylans who attacked the newcomers, only Vitor survived.

He was knocked unconscious by a blow to the head during the struggle. The Nuvens decided not to kill the thin, harmless-looking youth, but carried him to a nearby village to be cared for.

A sly smile curled on Yseni’s lips as she walked over to Vitor. The Tarylan was so entranced in the activities he did not notice her presence. “I am not pleased with what is happening here,” the High Seer whispered in his ear.

Startled from his brooding thoughts, Vitor bowed and mumbled an apology for not seeing her. But Yseni clucked at him sympathetically. “No need for that, my courageous Vitor. It appears we are of the same mind regarding the newcomers.”

Vitor blushed at the attention. He was honored the High Seer knew his name, much less took the time to speak with him. “Yes, High Seer. I am troubled at seeing these people.”

Yseni smiled. “You have permission to speak freely. I am eager to find brave Tarylans who might be willing to help with the problem of these invaders.” Her words acted as a key to the door holding back his emotions.

“These vermin should not be allowed to be here,” Vitor said, his lips curling into a snarl. “They dishonor Mother Verde with their strange religion.” He looked at Yseni. “How may I help you, High Seer?”

Yseni sighed. “If only there were more Verdans who felt as you do. Perhaps we could persuade these Nuvens to return to their accursed valley.”

Seeing she was serious, he bowed. “I know of many Verdans who believe as I do. We feel these Nuvens threaten our way of life. They do not respect us or our ways.”

The High Seer stroked his hair and ran a finger across the half-moon scar on his forehead. “My grandmother told me stories of the Sankari, heroes from the old Earth country of Finland, that would right the wrongs done to their people. Go, young Vitor, and find as many brave Sankari as you can convince to follow you. But do it secretly. I fear too many Verdans will not understand the importance of our cause. The High Council would support such warriors if they could be found.”

Vitor trembled at her touch and words. Much to her surprise and delight, he grasped her hand and kissed it. “I pledge my life to this cause, High Seer,” he said dropping to one knee.