Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Kejel
The shores of Kejel were rocky, gray, and empty. The only signs of habitation were the strings of smoke that lifted from the western corner of the island. They did their best to avoid that end of the island on approach. Omanuju piloted the
Elawn
to keep the main feature of Kejel, a large extinct volcano, between them and the town. Gabriella could just make out the masts of sailing ships anchored in a harbor and the city wall with its accompanying guard towers, before the mountain eclipsed the view completely. The mountain slopes were covered in conifer forests, the tops of the trees like spear points. The lower reaches were moorland, blanketed in rust-red heather.
Omanuju steered them even higher, the rigging squeaking through its pulleys as the paneled sail twisted to an obtuse angle to catch an updraft of air. Gabriella would have been terrified of the ship climbing higher if it were not for the danger that likely awaited them on shore. Despite the dizziness and queasy feeling in her stomach, she welcomed the climb into the heavens, even the sweeping clouds that rolled alongside them and over the deck, obscuring the ship from below. She steadied herself next to Omanuju, glancing over her shoulder occasionally in hopes that she would see Ghede climbing up from the cabins. If worst came to worst it would be nice to count on his . . . power . . . or whatever it was he displayed when dispatching the sylphs.
But Ghede did not emerge. Only Adamantus moved past the stern, pacing the deck with a comfort that Gabriella envied. When the clouds parted, she was relieved and alarmed at once—relieved to see that the mountain slopes were only a few dozen feet below them but anxious to be so close to forbidden land.
Omanuju had guided them wisely, the mountain and clouds disguising them. He followed the contour of the old volcano down between two ridges. They were rewarded with the sound of rushing water. A waterfall spilled over the cliffs, a large pool spreading beneath it.
“Ahoy, if that was not crafty navigating, I don’t know what is!” Omanuju lifted his weight off a pedal and turned one of the lateral sails out to catch a breeze. Then he pitched the mainsail perpendicular to the ground. When they moved close to the cliff face, he took a pole and pushed the
Elawn
down to the ground. They came to a stop just over a hillock, a stone’s throw from the base of the waterfall.
Gabriella, her vertigo all but gone, followed Omanuju across the deck to a gangway that he slid down between the railings. It landed on a mound of spongy moss. He untied the water barrels and rolled them down the ramp. Gabriella followed with two buckets. They stood the casks on end next to the pool, opened the tops, and filled each by scooping water with the buckets. They both bailed silently, their eyes darting to the edge of the woods as they worked. Even working quickly, it was clear it would take some time for the two of them to fill the five barrels.
Adamantus bounded down the gangway and trotted off into the forest, his nose raised to the wind.
“Should we just let him wander?” Gabriella asked, watching his tail disappear into the shadow of the trees.
“He won’t go far, and he’ll warn us if there is trouble.” Omanuju wiped his brow with the sleeve of his tunic.
After each cask was filled, they rolled it—heavy and cumbersome—back to the ship and pushed it up the gangway, hard laborious work that took the best part of the afternoon and left Gabriella sweaty, sore, and hungry. By the time the sun was dipping below the clouds and casting its long end-of-the-day rays on the mountaintop, they were finished. Once he had lashed the barrels back into place, Omanuju shook hands with Gabriella, and they shared a few minutes of satisfied silence from a job well done.
“Well, let’s not push our luck,” Omanuju said, puckered his lips and made a whistle that sounded much like a lark to call back the elk.
Gabriella helped herself to a handful of water. She was on her third scoop when she realized Adamantus had not returned. Omanuju stood by the railing, his face wan. He tried a few more short whistles only to cup his hand to his ear.
“Do you hear that?”
Gabriella closed her eyes. Over the hissing spray of the waterfall, she thought she heard it too, a low bellow not unlike the calls she heard from wild elk in the hills during mating season. No sooner had she heard it then Omanuju was running down the gangway.
“Stay with the ship.”
But Gabriella ignored him, following him over the stream and towards the woods where they had last seen Adamantus. The trees were hung heavily with moss, and the branches were low and thick with needles. Omanuju clicked his tongue at her, irritated, when he realized she was behind him.
“Fool girl. I told you to stay,” he said, panting.
“But I have the whistle.” She pulled the tiny instrument that hung like a jewel over her breasts. “You’d said he would come if I blew it.”
“Yes, but wait.” He eased himself down beside a fallen tree trunk. She followed suit just as he looked deeper in the woods and cried out under his breath, “By the stars, no!”
Figures carrying spears and bows were moving between the trees. They wore mail shirts under red surcoats and their faces were obscured by white masks with flat, implacable expressions. Each man waited on the movements of the nearest comrade, taking turns as they advanced on a large pit-trap in the center of the clearing. The tops of Adamantus’ antlers were just visible thrashing about in the trap. Debris—broken branches, leaves and vines—had fallen in on him, the debris that had covered the trap in the first place. The men closed in, red and white phantoms, moving from tree to tree.
“Red Riders from Kejelin,” Gabriella whispered.
“Yes,” Omanuju said. “But there are only three. They ride in parties of twelve.”
“Where are the others?”
One of the three men turned down the hill and blew a horn shaped from a ram. A second horn answered from lower down the slopes.
“Farther down the mountain, probably with the horses.”
The man with the horn shouted out in a language Gabriella did not understand. The answering shouts were still distant and muffled by the thick foliage. He walked down the slope towards the sound of his comrades. This left only two men next to the pit-trap gazing down at their prize, their backs to Omanuju and Gabriella.
Omanuju saw his chance. “Gabriella, stay here. If things go awry, go back to the ship and wait for Ghede to wake up.”
“He’s an elk. Is he worth risking your life?”
“He’s more important than both of us,” Omanuju said. “Now stay put.”
Omanuju leapt the fallen tree that hid them and moved with light steps over the forest floor. He dashed with the nimbleness of a man much younger, and despite the danger, Gabriella wondered about the life he had led, how the decades had brought him here to help her. As he stole up behind the men, he had the poise of a seasoned hunter, even a warrior. From the floor of pine needles and moss he picked up a heavy stick and tested it in his hand.
So mesmerized was Gabriella by his surefootedness that it was a complete shock when the branches gave way beneath him. Omanuju disappeared in a flurry of snapping sticks and flying moss. The commotion caused the red riders to turn just as Omanuju lost his grip on the edge of the second pit-trap and fell, hitting the bottom with a cry.
Both men lifted their masks and looked at one another. They were dark complexioned men with thick black mustaches and long braids in their hair and beards. They gestured at one another, and even without knowing their language, Gabriella could tell they were assigning blame to one another for letting someone sneak up so close. Their argument was brief. They rushed to the pit, balancing on the edge with their arms outstretched to their sides and peered down. Now they both smiled, revealing teeth that were filed into points.
Gabriella’s body was frozen, but her mind was racing, her heart beating so loud that she was sure the Kejelin men would hear it. For a moment, she thought they did, for chastened by their carelessness, the men lowered their masks and marched up the hill—swords drawn in a show of vigilance—in search of other trespassers.
Gabriella made herself as small as possible behind the fallen tree, praying to the gods and her ancestors for protection. Her breathing grew faster, her heart now absolutely punching her chest like a fist until she could hear the panting of the nearest man as he climbed the hill. She swallowed a last gulp of air and held her breath, turning to pick out her path up the hill in case she needed to run.
By the noise he made, she knew the red rider was close. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead and into her eyes, but she dared not wipe it. Instead she blinked it away as the footsteps came closer. She could hear the metal-on-wood sound as the man batted branches out of his way with his sword. Pine needles scattered, falling down, some even on the very log hiding Gabriella. She watched them tumble down and pile up on the forest floor. Surely he must have seen her, at least part of her body by now. It was why he was so quiet, he must have been shocked. Before he could act, she knew she must jump up and run.
The other riders arrived with a neighing of horses and clattering of hooves. They were many, and they had found both of her companions. The man stalking closest to her stopped, turned, and made his way back down the hillside. Gabriella breathed out slowly and when she was sure the rider was far enough away, she peered over the log. She watched as the riders lowered ropes into the first hole to lasso Adamantus. It was no easy task. The elk ducked his head and swung his antlers slicing through the first two ropes, but eventually, they snared his legs instead and pulled him out, kicking and twisting.
Four riders jumped in the hole to subdue Omanuju. She could only see the tops of their masks converging on one side of the pit, followed by the meat on bone slap as they kicked and punched her friend. Even with the skill Omanuju had shown before, he was no match for four armed and armored men. Adamantus bellowed and huffed, straining against his bindings. He was like a loyal dog trying to protect his master, but they both were outnumbered and overpowered.
As the light faded, the riders recovered the pit traps and prepared to leave. In the growing darkness, Gabriella slipped out from behind her hiding place and moved closer to the clearing. Her joints, immobile for so long, ached with the movement, but she felt that she had to do
something
. Her hopes were dashed when she saw the riders drag Adamantus down the hillside and carry Omanuju after him. There would be no opportunity to set them free. The clearing emptied and the chorus of crickets and tree frogs replaced the sound of men. A moth floated through the space over the pits before a bat dipped down and snagged it out of the air.
Gabriella knew she had only one option.
Follow.