Pools of Yarah Page 5

  “He carried only enough for three days. I provided him more from my allotment.”

  Chu Li had trouble hiding his smile. Kaffa was digging his own grave. “You met him? You were a party to his stealthy departure? As Village Precept, is not your duty to your village stronger than your friendship to Hramack or Kena?”

  “Upon Hramack’s shoulders rest the future of our village. Around him, the threads of the past and the future intertwine, weaving infinite possibilities.”

  “Now you are a seer.” Chu Li shook his head. “Your affection for Hramack has clouded your mind. You have allowed his betrothal to your granddaughter sway you. It is unbecoming of your position of authority.” He searched the faces of the others around the table, delighted to see that many agreed. “Now let us pray to Yarah for guidance in this matter and return to our homes.”

  After the others had left, Chu Li stood and looked around the empty Council Chambers with its polished carved stone table and seven chairs. He breathed in the heady air of power that permeated the room along with that of candle smoke and let it fill his lungs with the wisdom of those who had gone before him. As High Priest, he was in charge of the village’s spiritual guidance, but he longed for more worldly control. Now that it was within his grasp, he would not allow that old fool Kaffa take it from him, even if it meant Kaffa’s death.

  Of the five remaining Council members, three were securely under his control: Madras, the stone carver; Harred, the miller; and Sevrin, the baker. All were important men in the village and their families were large. Roagneau was a friend of and kinsman to Kena, but he would submit to Chu Li’s will if his son became the new Healer’s apprentice. Kaffa would never support him. That left only Mitsu in opposition. The quiet herder also enjoyed hunting in the Burning Lands. In this way, he was much like Kena, strong and determined. However, unlike Kena, Mitsu held closely to the old teachings. If it came down to backing Kena in spite of a charge of blasphemy, Mitsu would follow the lead of the High Priest. Each day the waters did not flow, Mitsu sat and watched his herds slowly grow weaker and their numbers dwindle. No. He would be no problem.

  Chu Li did not worry. As a servant of Yarah, what had he to fear from Kena or Hramack, his son? Kena’s stubborn insistence upon delving into the past troubled many of the villagers. Chu Li played upon those fears. The failure of the springs to return had frightened even him, but he was quick to use this evil omen to his own advantage in his attempt to usurp control of Ningcha from the Council. Kaffa’s close ties to Kena played directly into his hands. If Kaffa defended Kena too vigorously, he would alienate many of the Council members. In spite of his wisdom, people would begin to think he spoke only out of love for his granddaughter and her betrothal to Hramack.

  Chu Li absentmindedly stroked his pointed beard. Wisps of gray were beginning to show in it. He was no longer the young, energetic priest he once was. He had clawed his way to the top, all for the sake of his family. He would not let one man destroy that hard work. If Kena returned, he would never accept the constraints placed upon him by the Council. He was too obstinate for that. That stubbornness could play easily into Chu Li’s hands. He would see to it that Kena had no choice but to defy the Council openly. By doing this, Kena would be eliminating Kaffa as well as himself as an obstacle to power.

  Chu Li chuckled at the irony and poured himself a small glass of kalquat, strong liquor made from fermented sorghum. As High Priest, he did not drink. As a man, what he did in private was no one’s business. He raised his glass in a mock toast to his adversary. “May the best man win,” he whispered, as he poured the fiery liquid down his throat.

  *

  As the Council left the building, Kaffa slowly scanned the cliff face but saw no sign of the returning father and son. Teela was waiting for him, eager for news.

  “What did they say, Grandfather?” she asked. She knew of the anger in the village over Kena’s prolonged absence. The Council could not ignore the people’s sentiments.

  Kaffa recounted the discussions of the meeting to his granddaughter and waited for her reaction. As he knew she would, she exploded.

  “What do they expect to do, lock them in chains? What harm have they caused? Is everyone close-minded to our past? What of the springs? Is our dying of thirst not enough to concern the Council that they must also lock up our Healer and his son?”

  Kaffa waited for her outburst of anger to subside, and then spoke quietly. “Not everyone agrees with Chu Li and Madras. They are just afraid to speak up. If it comes to a vote, I think they will be safe. It would be better if they would not go off exploring for a while, though.”

  Teela took her grandfather’s hand and walked with her to their home overlooking the canyon floor.

  “I am worried about Hramack.”

  “I, too, little one.”

  “Why must he be so stubborn?”

  “Kena?” he asked in jest. He knew she had meant Hramack.

  “No. Oooh! You did that on purpose.” Teela wrinkled her nose and shook her head at Kaffa, who laughed.

  “You worry too much, granddaughter. They will be back soon. Hramack knows his future, as does Kena.”

  Teela stopped and stared at her grandfather intensely. “Have you seen this?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. This and more. The solution to our problems does not lie here in this village. Kena and his son must seek it out.”

  A look of horror crossed Teela’s face. “You mean Hramack must leave again. Oh, grandfather, you must be wrong. He can’t leave me again.” She began to sob.

  Kaffa knew he should not have spoken about his dreams, but it was too late to take it back now. He hugged Teela tightly and let her sob into his shoulder. He knew how she felt. She and Hramack had known each other all their lives. He had watched childhood devotion grow into love. Now, she could lose Hramack because he must choose his future, and that future could lie away from Ningcha.

  “He is all I have,” she sobbed.

  “Sometimes a man, even a young man, must accept the challenge that comes his way. Yarah has much in store for Hramack and his father. Even the stars say so.”

  “The stars?” she asked, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “In my dreams I see the stars coming to their aid. They will save Ningcha, have no fear of that.” He spoke with as much confidence as he could summon. He did not tell her that his dreams also told of death and betrayal. These things were in the hands of Yarah and nothing he or she could do would make a difference.

  “Fire hardens the steel to make it stronger,” he added. “Hramack must face the fire.”

  5

  Ningcha

  The return journey to Ningcha was long and arduous, but both father and son marched side-by-side without complaint, resting at sunrise, and reaching the village shortly before dawn of Hramack’s seventh day out. After his long desert ordeal, Kena’s exhaustion forced him to lean on his son’s shoulder on the steep path leading down from the canyon’s edge. The village dogs awakened to greet them, but stopped their barking as soon as they recognized the villagers’ familiar scents. Too tired to cook, Kena and Hramack ate a quick, cold meal and went to their separate rooms to sleep. Kaffa and Teela, who had been awake all night watching for their return, interrupted their attempt at sleep only minutes later.

  Barely awake, Hramack answered the persistent knock at the door. “Teela. Elder. Good to see you again,” he said, grabbing Teela, who surprised him by leaping into his arms and almost smothering him with her enthusiastic kisses. Moments later, she realized how unladylike she was being and pushed away.

  “Come in, please,” he said grinning at her. He held the door and ushered them into the house.

  The two entered and seated themselves before the small fire Kena had started in the fireplace, an oddity in the village since most cooked using electric induction ovens. Although he was at heart a scientist and the village ombudsman for all things mechanical, Kena preferred his independence from the overburdened el
ectrical grid. More than anyone, he knew how fragile the thin line between technological man and primitive man was. He collected the dried dung from the herd animals and used it for fuel. Often, his root extractions required the slow, low heat only a fire could provide.

  Teela was grinning, too excited to sit still, happy to see Hramack alive. Kaffa was more somber. His staff rested solidly across his lap as he sat, like a vise locking him in place. Hramack wondered at the Elder’s dour expression.

  Kena entered the room still yawning, visibly thinner from his adventures in the Burning Lands. He walked gingerly on blistered feet, greeted the Elder and Teela warmly, and took a seat on a bench by the table.

  “Hramack, brew some tea for our guests,” he suggested.

  No one spoke for the few minutes it took Hramack to put water on the fire to heat. To avoid water loss from evaporation, he topped the kettle with a reclaimer, a coil of tubing designed to condense the steam and add it back to the kettle, similar to the pressure cooker he carried into the desert. He allowed the mixture of ground ephedra twigs, sagebrush leaves, chicory, and a few flakes of dried red pepper to steep for several minutes. The warm, aromatic tea soothed digestion and invoked a sense of serenity. The serving of tea was a ritual that promoted friendship and strengthened communal bonds. The slow pace of the ritual allowed the participants to gather their thoughts and for anger to cool.

  Hramack poured the tea into cups and served it. Teela’s hands grasped his as he handed her a cup. Her eyes held such love and devotion for him, he wanted to hold her, forget the others in the room, and show her how much he loved her, but the ritual came first.

  As the guest, Kaffa broke the silence. He set his cup aside after only two sips. His voice was full of regret. “I hope you found what you sought, Healer. The price you pay may be high. The Council is very troubled by your abandonment of the village’s needs these past three weeks. Chu Li will not treat this offense lightly. Prepare yourself well. They have learned of your return and the full Council meets tonight. They require your presence.” He looked over at Hramack. “Your son’s also.”

  The sharpness of Kaffa’s voice and the curtness of his speech disturbed Hramack. He almost choked on his tea. “Do you vote against us, Elder?” he asked warily.

  Kaffa’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “I do not vote. Because of my affection for the two of you, I have resigned as Village Precept. It was the only thing I could do to show my support.” Kaffa did not look up at Hramack. He idly stirred the ashes of the fire with the tip of his staff. No longer a staff of office, it was now merely a cane to support the weight of an old man made weary by his years of service.

  Kaffa’s admission shook Hramack deeply. Kaffa was no longer Precept – things had gone too far. The village sorely needed the guidance of the Elder, especially now. Chu Li and the Council would tighten their hold on the villagers until no free will remained. Anger surged in his young body, washing away his fatigue.

  He could barely control the quaver in his voice as he burst out, “Elder, I’m sorry for what we’ve brought upon you, but we cannot hide here in our village and expect Yarah to see to all our needs. The springs do not return in their annual flow. We must find out why. The answer lies out there,” he waved vaguely at the cliff above them, “in the Burning Lands. The water must come from somewhere. We must find its source. My father and I know the Burning Lands better than anyone here.” He looked at Kena, who nodded his agreement. “It must be we who attempt this search.”

  Hramack and Kena had discussed the mystery of the source of the springs on their return journey, but Hramack surprised himself with his suggestion that they search for it. It sounded like something his father would suggest. Teela, startled by his words, bounded from her seat, knocking over the jar of prickly pear fruit syrup used to sweeten the tea. She ignored the thick liquid oozing across the floor and stared at Hramack in stunned silence, forcing him to look away.

  “You promised you would never again leave me.” Her anguished face bore a mixture of anger and fear.

  Touched by here raw emotion, it broke Hramack’s heart to say, “For all our sakes, I must break that promise.”

  Kena slowly stood on battered feet, holding on to the edge of the table for a moment to steady himself, and walked to the stone mantle of the fireplace, his weariness visible in each tired step. He picked up a charcoal drawing of Allana, his wife, and held it for a moment before setting it back in place. The drawing was an excellent likeness. It caught her ready smile and the curve of her lips, but the black and white rendering could not capture the soft azure of her eyes or her gentle laughter. Those, he kept in his heart. He leaned on the cool stone of the great mantle and cleared his throat.

  “I found something in the Burning Lands that I must bring before the Council – a map showing the location of the old city of Denver. Denver Dome was built south and east of the ancient city on a vast plain. It may be that the answer to all our problems lies there in the ruins of Denver Dome.”

  Kaffa spoke up. “You tread on a dangerous path, my friend.” He stood and paced the room nervously as he spoke. He peered out the window as if to make certain they were not overheard. “Few here want to remember our past. Fewer still want to revive it. What we need and what we want are separate issues. I ask you, no, I beg you – do not bring this matter before the Council.”

  Kaffa’s vehemence surprised Kena. He shook his head vigorously. “We can ill afford to revert slowly to savagery. We must try to reestablish at least some of the technology of our past. What little we have is wearing out in spite of our best efforts to maintain it. Each year our numbers grow fewer. Children are stillborn and our villagers die from illnesses I cannot cure. We have more young men than women.” Kena’s voice rose as he spoke. Hramack knew his father became angry when he thought of the deaths he could not prevent. “We must go to Denver Dome. I, at least, must go. The map shows our valley was once part of a great river whose source was in the mountains to the north. I propose to follow it. Along the way, I’m sure I will find the source of the spring and some means to restore the flow.”

  Kaffa closed his eyes and raised his staff high in the air. He brought the tip back down to strike the floor, but only tapped it gently. “Nuama tells us Yarah struck a rock with his power and the spring burst forth,” Kaffa quoted from the Teachings. To Hramack’s ears, the words rang hollow in the stillness of the room.

  “Even so, the water does not appear here magically. It comes from somewhere. Even Yarah does not manifest water simply for our pleasure.”

  Kena paced in front of the fireplace as he spoke, trying to think things through. His gait was unsteady. Kena believed deeply in Yarah and the Teachings. When that belief conflicted with his knowledge of how things worked, as it did now, it troubled him. He knew the inconsistency was due to his lack of understanding and not Yarah’s failure. Kaffa shuffled toward the door. “Tonight you can speak your mind, but I warn you, you will raise few allies. Few will go against Chu Li now. He and Madras have formed a strong alliance. People are afraid because the springs do not return. Fear causes people to cling to their religion. Chu Li believes you will raise old ghosts. The people are apprehensive that you will abandon them once again and leave no replacement to see to their needs.” He looked pointedly at Hramack. “Many see that Hramack’s heart does not lie in Healing.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “My voice is weak and few will listen to me.”

  With these final words, he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Teela remained behind, staring silently at the spilled syrup on the floor at her feet. Kena made an excuse to leave the two alone.

  “I must see to the new herbs I brought back from the Burning Lands.” As he walked to the rear of the house, leaving the two young ones alone, he mumbled, “Water. Water is what we need, not more prayers.”

  *

  Teela was overjoyed at seeing Hramack alive and well but feared for his future. His insistence on following in his father’s footsteps would
cause dissension in the village. Still, she loved him deeply. Embarrassed by her earlier outburst, she dropped to her knees beside the broken jar of syrup.

  “Bring me a towel and I will clean up my clumsy mess.”

  Hramack drew her to her feet and sat her beside him on the couch. “Forget the mess.”

  She gazed at him: dirty, exhausted, and blistered. She tried hard to imagine what hell he had gone through. She laid her head on his shoulder. His was a strong shoulder and eased her worries with its solid comfort.

  “Hramack, I was crazy with concern while you were gone these seven days. Why must you leave me for the Burning Lands?” She raised her head and reached out to stroke his cheek. The stubble of beard felt rough to her fingers. He winced as she touched a blister. Even the few days he had been gone had left him looking frail and thinner.

  “I do not wish to cause you pain, my love, but I had to find my father.” She was surprised at how weak Hramack’s voice had become. The past few days had been hard on him, harder than he would ever admit to her. Part of his strength was hiding his weaknesses so that he might lend a portion of that strength to others. “We are on the verge of collapsing, but few will see it. I must stand with him. It is my duty as his son. Would you have me do otherwise?”

  Yes! her mind screamed at him. Marry me and stay beside me. I am almost a woman who wants the family and future all such women desire. In her heart, she knew he was right to stand with his father, but it placed them squarely against what most of the villagers believed. The Burning Lands were death. Only in the village was there life. The past should remain forgotten. Even she feared the past, but knew that Kena was right. Unless someone did something soon, the village would die. The women did not speak of it aloud, but that did not make it go away. She knew that Hramack was destined either to lead their people to greatness or to go away forever. Kaffa had seen both endings in his dreams. Would she go with him if he asked? She didn’t know. She knew only that he was here now, and that was enough for her.