The Days of the Golden Moons (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 5) (12 page)

In
the closet, next to the Dress Blacks, were two long gold sashes and four sets
of shoulder aiguillette.  I stuffed them into the pockets of the tunic and wrap
the sashes around my own waist, so I didn’t have to carry them.  I hoped there was
a tree in the back of the house which hung over the roof.  I could tie all of
this together, and it might be enough to reach the tree and swing me over to
the main trunk like Tarzan.  Or Jane.  Maybe I would even yell as I did it. 
Not a Tarzan yell but something like “Go to hell all you de Kudishas!”

The
men's voices grew louder now, and I heard footsteps on the stairs.  With no time
to think this through anymore, I climbed out the window.  I nearly lost my
footing on the first end post and broke my neck.  I was not deterred.  I was already
over and across the lower porch roof when they reached the bedroom.  By the
time they had figured out I was no longer there, I was hiding behind the chimney
on the upper roof. 

The
rain was pouring down again.  The tunic repelled most of the water for a while
but eventually it became saturated and then my dress underneath started to soak
it in as well as my shoes.

It
was pitch black, and I had been out here for eons.  For some time now the men had
been wandering around the house both inside and outside calling my name.  They couldn’t
see me up here and couldn't hear me even if they wanted to because of the
storm. 

I
was shivering in the wet even though it was warm.  I figured I would probably
be sick for a week because of it, but when stubborn Katie de Kudisha set her
mind to something, she saw it through no matter how stupid it was. 

A
bright light flickered through the trees for a moment and I could dimly hear
the engines of a speeder.  Rekah and Sorkan left the house, the door slamming shut
behind them.  I quickly tied a makeshift rope of the sashes and braid and then ran
across the roof.  As luck would have it, there was a tree limb right where I needed
one, and after a few attempts, I managed to loop my rope across it.  Holding
both ends, I swung away from the roof and propelled myself against the trunk
and onto a lower limb though I gouged a few holes in my skin and dented a rib
or two in the process.  This was a hell of a lot easier thirty years ago in
boot camp. 

Seating
myself somewhat comfortably on a limb, I gathered my rope into a coil and
settled for the night, willing my arms and legs stop aching.

A
long time passed.  Morning dawned.  The rain had stopped, and the sky was
clearing.  I was still damp and shivering but somehow had slept for brief
periods of time.  When I awoke, I listened carefully for voices.  It was silent
except for the morning songs of the birds in the trees around me. 

The
sky lightened a little.  I needed to get moving.  I had about fifteen feet down
to reach the ground with only a few large limbs to assist, so I couldn’t climb
down, and it was too far to jump safely.  Instead, I uncoiled my rope again,
knotted it around the limb I was sitting on and then used it to rappel my way
to the ground.  It would be a flag waving to everyone when they awoke, but
hopefully by then I would be long gone.

This
country was beautiful, no question about it.  It reminded me of the Pacific
Northwest where I grew up, the wild forests of the Olympic and Cascade
Mountains, the rivers, inlets and bays leading out to the Pacific Ocean.  I
wandered through the forest as the dawn began to obscure the stars and the
faint yellow glow of Erindad 37 lit the darkness around me. 

After
hiking uphill for a couple of hours, following the path of the river toward its
source, I heard the sounds of water falling and came into a great cavernous
valley.  In the center of this valley was a large lake being fed by a giant
water fall hundreds of feet above me.  The lake was a crystal clear blue and
surrounded on three sides by walls of sheer rock.  The fourth side where I
stood now was a grassy meadow.

Venturing
back into the forest, I came upon wild blackberry bushes and spent some time
picking and eating them.  Berries were good food, super food actually, full of
vitamins and antioxidants.  There was no protein there so their benefit would
be short lived, but I was hungry.  Before jumping off the roof, I should have
grabbed some food from the kitchen. 

Heading
further into the brush toward what appeared to be huckleberries, I heard a
growling sound right in front of me.  Unfortunately, the sound was coming for a
large black bear who apparently thought these berries were his.  I turned tail
and ran as fast as I could, tripping over some roots and slipping on the loose
ground of the hillside.  I went tumbling down an embankment rolling through
blackberry brambles, nettles, ferns, and all manner of flora to land unceremoniously
in a freezing cold, muddy rivulet. 

“Damn,”
I said to no one at all.  I ached all over in a torn, bruised way and my skin
burned, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken any limbs except maybe my neck.  Every
part of me and my clothing were now covered in mud.  My head throbbed.  “Damn,”
I said again as I lay there studying the broken bits of blue sky between the
towering Douglas Fir trees. 

The
bear apparently decided that I was no longer a threat to his berries and after
glancing at me from the hilltop, wandered off in the other direction.  White
puffy clouds circled the sky overhead, and I was content to watch them which in
the back of my mind told me, I ought to have been worried.  I could have been
concussed and shouldn't just lay there or fall asleep.  I was too tired to
think and my head ached, and if I had tried, I would have discovered I couldn’t
move anyway. 

I
drifted off for a while enjoying the pleasant sensation of sun on my face and
cool muddy water beneath me.  A long thick yellow snake slithered by in the
water and for a moment stopped to appraise me and stick out his tongue. 

"Would
you like an apple?" he said. 

"Get
lost," I replied, deciding that this was absolutely the very last time I'd
go wander around the forest.  The snake glided away as I fell asleep.

When
I awoke, the sun had passed behind the trees and mosquitos were buzzing in my
ears.  My face felt like I had spent too much time enjoying the sun and would
be regretting it very soon.  There were three men standing above me, casting a
shadow across my body.

“Tuman? 
Sorkan?  Rekah?”

“No,
Sister,” one replied with a beatific smile and offered me his hand.  He helped
me to my feet.  “Come.”  He pulled me along and I walked with him upriver.  Another
man led us while a third followed close behind.

“Where
are we going?” I asked, glancing back around.  I saw my body still lying
comfortably in the mud.  I wasn’t frightened at all though I thought I should have
been.  After all, I was walking upriver, and most of me was still back there. 
I felt like myself.  I could feel the man's hands on mine.  My cheek was itchy
from where a mosquito had just bitten me and my legs and arms ached from my
tumble.  “Did I manage to kill myself falling down the hill?”

“Perhaps,”
the one in front turned around and smiled. 

We
walked across the river.  I mean, we walked on top of the water as if it were
concrete.  Then we floated up a short dune.  At the top of the embankment, we
stopped.  I couldn’t see what was ahead as the path forward was entirely
encased in fog. 

“Are
you ready, Sister?” the one behind me asked.

I
turn backed to look at him and discovered the fog was completely behind me now
too.  It was a warm and welcoming fog though.  I felt at peace.  I felt like I
had just returned home.

“Sure,”
I replied.  “I’m ready.”  The fog began to melt away revealing a golden sky
filled with dazzling light.  I saw a lake of brilliant gold water and herons
standing on a dock.  A gentle breeze tossed my hair about while propelling a
small sailboat toward us.  It was my father’s boat, stark white in the golden
lake, sails aloft, heeled over on the port side, racing to us at a speedy 6
knots.  The man on board waved to me.

“Dad?”
I called.

Chapter 23

Sorkan

Rekah
held audience on the porch of my son’s house.  He had always done so because
the house was far back in the woods and the noise and commotion would not
disturb his wives and many children.  Usually my son was not in residence, but
this day he was present and I told Rekah to keep as quiet as possible. 

My
son was upstairs in his office.  Mounting the stairs, I glanced in the
bedroom.  The bed had not been slept in.  I crossed the room and shut the
window where it had remained open since that devilish woman climbed through it
the previous night.  She riled me now, that one.  She needed to learn her
place. 

Leaving
the room, I went across the hall to my son's office.  When my grandson was
small, he had lived in this room.  I recalled those times with great fondness. 
My son now sat at his desk typing at his netbook whilst listening to the
ramblings of Lord Taner whose face appeared on the vid suspended above him. 
Lord Berkan looked bored on another vid and still another man I did not
recognize smiled from a third.  I settled myself on the sofa and listened to
their chatter about places and things far beyond my world.

Old
Keko came in and removed an empty coffee cup and a plate from my son's desk.

“Would
you like anything more, Sir?” he whispered loudly.  His hearing was far less
than it had been in my youth.

My
son waved him away and for a moment when he lifted his hand I could see long
scars beneath his golden cuff bracelets. 

“Prince?”
 Keko stood before me now.  “Something to eat or drink for you?”

“Thank
you, no,” I replied and watched Keko back from the room.  Keko was older than I,
as old as my father would have been, were he still alive.  Lord Taner and the
others signed off, and for a moment the room was quiet save the sounds of my
son's fingers clicking across the keys.

“You
did not sleep?”  I asked, rising from the sofa and coming to stand beside him. 

“My
leg pained me last night after the spaceplane,” he replied as strange foreign
words scrolled across his screen reflecting in the black lenses of his
glasses.  He spoke with me in language of Karupatani whilst reading a document
written in something that looked but wasn’t Mishnese.  That was a skill I had
never mastered, to read in one language whilst conversing in another.

“And
your wrists?” I asked for they looked quite painful too.

“Ay
yah.  They bothered me as well.”

“And
you could not take something to dull these pains?”

“No.” 
He shook his head dismissively.  “I must suffer for that which I have inflicted
upon myself.”

“Perhaps
you should just rest today then,” I suggested.  “You are on vacation as are
your Lords.”  I waved at the blank vids.  “You are all sorely in need of a
rest, and you can suffer your pains as much as you wish whilst doing so.  Whatever
work you have can surely wait until your return.”

“I
must get Rozari organized.  We must quickly get our government in place and
operating before anyone grows dissatisfied and recalls that our invasion was
not at their invitation.”  His fingers flew across the keyboard making more
words in the Rozarian language.

“How
do you see that which you are writing?”  I asked though I studied his strange
band of silver hair.  How this came about so quickly, I could not fathom.  Just
weeks ago when last we met, he had not even a grey hair and now his head and
beard were laced with these shiny silver tresses.

“There
are microchips planted within the frames of my glasses that transmit a
mathematical image to me.”

“Do
you see the words as I do?”

“No,
but I see them in a way that I can recognize them and know what they are.”

“I
see.”  I shrugged and headed toward the door before he could launch into an
explanation of nanotechnology or some such thing that was far beyond my simple
brain.  I would find Rekah's petitioners to be more entertaining, I expected. 

“I
expect you will too,” my son concurred though I had not uttered a word.  “I
will come downstairs for a bit.  I need to stretch my leg.” 

He
paused in his work and then rose to his feet, balancing for a moment on his
right leg, his hand gripping the desk.  I saw he wore a brace today on his left
leg, which he did now when it was pained.  He held out his hand, and his cane came
bidden from across the room.

“Let
me help you down the stairs,” I insisted and put my arm across his back.  I felt
him tense and shirk away from my touch.  He was not used to being touched, I
reminded myself.  No one may touch the Great Emperor.  I held him tighter until
his muscles relaxed, then we hobbled down the stairs as one, his arm across my
shoulders and I holding him upright.

“You
are too old for this,” he protested mildly.  “And I am not an invalid.”

“I
am old but fit and strong,” I replied.  “And you are indeed an invalid.”

“Thank
you,” he said when we were safely planted on the ground floor.

“My
pleasure.”  I did not release my hold upon him.  Neither did he move his arm
from my shoulder.  He smiled a little, shyly almost.  I kissed his head.  My
son.

Upon
the porch, Rekah sat in my father's chair as the people of Karupatani come
before him to resolve their disputes.  I sat next to him and greeted my
friends, offering my opinion when asked.  Rekah was nervous today.  More often
than not he took my judgment and made no alteration to it.  For this, I thought,
I should be sitting in my father's chair instead of him. 

After
a time, I grew bored with the proceedings and was glad this was not my
responsibility.  I rose and stretched my old bones, glancing around the side of
the house at the rope the lady created to escape from the roof.  It swung about
in the wind.  Then, I returned to the porch and waved to a serving woman to
fetch me some sweet tea.  As she did so, my son emerged from the house.  His
cell was still in his hand, and he was telling someone he would speak with them
again at a later time.

“Would
you like some tea too?” I asked as he pocketed the cell.

“Sure,”
he shrugged and lit a cigarette.  The audience was on their knees in obeisance
before him and even Rekah was on the ground before my father's chair.

“Get
up.”  My son waved his hand for all to rise as he settled himself on the
steps.  No one moved.

“Perhaps
you would like a chair?” I offered.

“No. 
I shan't be here more than a few moments.  I came to have a word with Rekah.”

“Would
you like to adjudicate, Sir?”  Rekah rose nervously and offered my father's
chair.

“Not
at all,” my son replied, sucking on his cigarette and taking the glass of tea
from the woman who nearly dropped both his and mine with her trembling hands. 

I
took my glass from her as well and then she backed away, her eyes never leaving
my son's face.  Never did I have that effect on anyone, I considered.  What a
nuisance it would be to render both woman and man insensible just by my
presence. 

Rekah
cleared his throat and was about to call forward the next petitioner when my
son abruptly interrupted him.

“So
Rekah, have you ridden my horse?”

Rekah
grew pale, and his hands began to shake.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  “I won’t do
it again.”

My
son’s eyes flashed.  “No, you won’t,” he agreed.  I glanced from son to nephew
deducing that this was clearly not about a horse.

Rekah
called forward the next petitioner who had come to our village from across the
continent.  The man stepped forward, his eyes too locked upon my son.  He made
obeisance again in the dirt.

“State
your need, brother,” Rekah commanded though his voice still wavered.

The
man opened his mouth but did not speak.  He looked cautiously at my son.

“This
is ridiculous,” my son said and finished his cigarette.  “I shall go back
inside.”  He started to pull himself to his feet but nearly toppled over.

“Are
you alright?”  I jumped to assist him, grabbing his arm.  Rekah reached for his
other arm and together we held my son upright though strangely, his body had
gone slack.  His head lolled back though his eyes were open and flashing
brilliantly.  “Senya!  Senya what's the matter?”  I prodded him.

“No,
no, no,” he mumbled, twitching in our arms.

 “No,
what?” I cried.

“Is
it a seizure, Uncle?”

“Let's
get him inside.”  Together we half dragged, half carried my son back into the
house whilst he mumbled more words we could not understand.  I did not
recognize this language he spoke.  Keko rushed forward to assist us though the
old man could do little more than hold my son’s shirttail.

“Let's
get him to the couch,” I decided but even as we did so, Senya struggled away
from us, prostrating himself upon the floor and crying louder in this other
language.

The
three of us stood watching helplessly, looking from one to the other as if one
of us could understand better what was happening.  After a time and I cannot
say how long it was, my son grew quiet.  I knelt down beside him.

“Senya?”

“Go
to the river,” he whispered, his voice now hoarse.  “At the embankment
immediately below the twisted elm just south of the lake, my wife is there.”

“Is
she alive?” I asked.

“She
is now,” he replied.