Stormy Season in Prax

On the ride towards Strawweavers Xenofos seems to be in a hurry. He seemed rather grumpy at the start, but as trek gets further that seems to either melt away or sink below surface.

Berra is very thoughtful, one big scowl of thought with occasional gestures accompanying her attempts to work something out.

Storm Bull, in the mean time, is absolutely livid. Warm wind melts the frost on the morning they set out, and it is merely freezing overnight, as opposed to deathly cold.

Sometime in the afternoon Xenofos steers his bison closer to Followed. “You looked thoughful?”

Berra asks, “Did I?” politely. “I was probably thinking.”

“I thought as much.” Scribe answers “What were you thinking? If I may ask”

“You can, but I ain’t answering. You looking forward to seeing your brother-son again?” Berra might be pulling out the big forbidden Mostali weaponry with that change of subject.

“Fair enough.” Xenofos looks ahead. “Yea, both kids and adults, too. And I think Gallaf needs to know stuff.”

Berra considers. “What’re we telling him? And by me I mean you, there.”

“The Battle Weavers follow the Bull. Gallaf needs to know of destruction of New Pavis temple I think. He would probably be well advised to know of Jar-Eels attempt to return in entirety as well.” Xenofos pauses to think “You, of course, tell the Bright Swords what you see fit.”

“I reckon he probably knows about the Storm Bulls. Maybe not so much about the Heroquest and the why. That’s not Humakt stuff, though.” Berra brightens up, looking ahead. She does not seem to have seen anything. She just had a mood shift.

“I don’t think Straw weavers will catch trouble for this, but he should know.” Xenofos shrugs. “At least I hope that is the case. And by the law things are cleared. That is probably not enough to clear all bad blood.”

“The city an’ the nomads seem to not like each other much,” Berra admits.

“But the followers of Bull are mostly not city folk.” He scans the horizon and taps on his javelins. “But yeah. The quest and things around it are one thing he should hear of to protect the people. Travel I am going on next is another. “

Berra looks down at the ground, going backwards under them. “I guess I tell the Bright Swords that I’m still alive,” she says perkily.

“And that delights me.” Xenofos looks ahead “Straw weavers are one place to ask for my whereabouts, if our part has come up – and it may – even mundanely. There were people in the river bank. People of Raus. One of my fellow scribes may talk in a wrong place… So Gallaf may need a warning. Might be a time to be a bit further from the Zola Fel even…”

“Yeah. I’m … I’m aware you’re right.” Berra stretches in the saddle. “Do you know where they wanna spend Sacred Time?”

Scribe shakes his head.

“If that thing was on the river, then maybe next to the Zola Fel ain’t so good, huh?” Berra’s tone says she is agreeing with Xenofos’ analysis. “Sea Season’s kinder to cattle than Storm.”

“That is a matter Herdmothers can say more about, but you are probably right.” Again Xenofos drums with his fingers. “I will probably not tell why questions might be asked. I will not name those who might do so, but say enough for him to understand. Probably not tell him our route either. What you don’t know you cannot tell.”

Berra wrinkles her nose in thought, staring at the air not far away. “Warning him about a codeks and a lot of people who might be after it sounds hard to explain.”

“I am taking something people of the man eater island want to a place they cannot get it from. They may want to hinder that and ask after my comings and goings. They may also attack first and ask survivors.” Xenofos shrugs. “I think that covers the most. I don’t want to name the thing unnecessarily. Not outside temple walls.”

Berra nods slowly. “I reckon that’ll have to do.” She falls silent to watch the sun creep painfully over the plains.

Before the Storm Bull holy day, when there are plans to leave for western Prax but nothing concrete yet, Berra sits down next to Kolyey in Geo’s. She looks tired and slightly irritated, but she says, “Ughghhh,” in a friendly fashion.

Kolyey smiles a little. “What trouble are we in now?”

“I dunno yet.” Berra snuggles down properly onto the bench and scratches her back against the wall. “Wondering which way we might wanna go back across Prax.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Kolyey says. “Probably not across Sun Country.”

“That’s the other way. I think. But we might end up going either way, either side of the Dead Place.” There is a little nose-wrinkle.

Kolyey wrinkles her nose at the mention of the Dead Place. “Maybe south of there? It’s likely to be warmer.”

“Yes. That means going past the Block, though. An’ that means a lot of Storm Bulls. I… think maybe the old Lunar road would be quieter.”

Just so long as we don’t go through the Chaos Swamp.”

“Ain’t likely. But yeah, I think we’ll go straight West. That’ll put us off by… I mean, if we do do it before Sacred Time. It’ll put us up by … maybe Alone? Or Pimper’s Block? Is that a good place for the two big weeks?”

Kolyey looks like she’s having trouble with the concept. “Pimper’s Block is a disgusting place. I would try to make Tourney Altar.”

“We can, but again, we’d then be close to the Block. That’s probably a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t know anything about Alone, but it’s sounding like our best bet.”

“I think there might be an oasis up that way,” Berra says uncertainly. “Moonbone, or something. Or broth. Bonebroth? So we should find that out. I… I wanna get away from here before Sacred Time, but I don’t think everyone’s sure yet, but if we do, we need to work out where to spend Sacred Time.”

“I want to get away from here now. Let’s get Xenofos to read some maps,”suggests Kolyey.

“We can ask. Varanis is gonna stay for her Holy Day, probably, and we’ve got to stay until Storm Bull’s anyhow. But yeah, maps. Scribe. You wanna ask ‘im?” It is more an order than a suggestion.

“Yes, Commander.”

Berra nods. “Well volunteered.” Voluntold. “Now, we’re gonna be at prayer this week, an’ after I’m gonna be practicing the greatsword. I’m warning you now in case you wanna start ducking.”

“Okay. We don’t have a lot of time, so I have no idea what to practice while you’re working on great sword.” Kolyey looks as if she is not bothered by the idea of resting a lot.

Berra narrows her eyes a bit. “What did you find out you were weak at when the temple tested you?”

“Everything except broadsword,” Kolyey admits.

“Then any of those things. Become better at what you should be.” Berra nods, determined.

“Hmm. Either punching people, or knife fighting.”

Berra winces, perhaps at a memory. “Grappling. It’s a holy duty to disarm those who use a sword wrong, but it is very dangerous.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Anything I need to know before I try to get up?”

Kolyey thinks a moment. “No, Commander.”

“Right. Yeah, you’re on looking after Maalira duty still, and you got the rest.” Berra pours herself to her feet with the elegant strength of a well-armoured panther.

Kolyey just nods.

At Strawweaver camp Xefos’ family gets salutation and gifts from the town. Some lengths of cloth in bright colours. Some tiny bronze bells for decoorations. Some sweet treats for the kids. After listening of local gossip and telling his news Xefos asks his father to arrange a meeting with Gallaf.

The old man does so, stressing to Xefos how important it is do these things properly. Others than Xefos might think the old man is not quite as stoically unmoved as a Praxian elder is expected to be but puffing of pride and sense of importance.

Meeting happens on the evening of the day Xenofos, Berra and Maalira arrive. Xenofos sings of return of Jar- Eel in form of Crocodile mother and her attempt to return fully to the world of the living. He sings of the destruction of the Storm Bull temple in New Pavis, of how Valind was defeated in his newly built temple and how the Red Eggs were destroyed. He warns them of the Sable thief, citing the tale of his tattoos.

Erhehta is particularly interested in the Horn Gate Shaman.

Xenofos pauses to think when Erhehta asks about Horngate shaman. “I’d perhaps call him shaman of Raus fort. Or maybe the Raus shaman.”

“What does he own? I did not listen before, until you said something sensible. I forget what.”

“He holds lands by Zola Fel, south of Pavis. The sword he used for ceremonies was quite impressive.” Xenofos answers “I think I mentioned those – and that he apparently could talk with the spirits of the river.”

“All of them?” Erhehta narrows his eyes. “Small shaman yes?”

Around them, others ignore the conversation.

“Who can measure greatness of shaman but another shaman uncle Erhehta?” Xenofos answers “I don’t know if he could talk with all of them but he could talk with one who would bring him required answers. I think priest of Zola Fel helped him in that.”

The tiny man pouts a little. “I have heard this of him, and other things besides, but no doubt he uses tricks and leans on foul Lunar magic.” His tradetalk gets better when he is angry, or he forgets to speak bad tradetalk. Or, just possibly, this is something he has said before.

“I think he leans on Daka Fal and his ancestors, but I may very well be wrong on that.” Xefos strokes his beard “He did hint he is not a follower of the Red Moon even though the Empire brought him and his kin to shores of Zola Fel.”

“Weak ancestors,” Erhehta says dismissively. “He would not stand against me. So what did he do after that little trick with the lake?”

“He released Redwind from posession of a Lunar spirit and imprisoned that spirit. Or so I think.”

“Mere apprentice stuff,” says the shaman, with bad grace. “But out of politeness I will not teach him who is powerful here. Did you see the bee house he uses to torture spirits?”

Xefos shakes his head.

“In far off places where the water serpents send down their rain, there are things called bees, and these things build their houses from air, with many prison cells in them. He has one of these houses, and sometimes he sets fire to it, to make the spirits scream.”

Xenofos furrows his brow on this description of apiary arts.

Erhehta interprets that somehow. “He also eats unicorn, but that is just a rumour and I will not spread it. He sent no spirits with you, or I would know.”

“I did not expect him to. Others maybe, and not with me but after me.” Xenofos looks around in the smoky yurt.

“Not in here,” Erhehta says. “But I will watch the skies. You should come with us to the grazing ground.”

“That might draw harm to the clan. I will not do that.” Xenofos takes a sip of coumiss he has been nursing.

“What is the clan? Strength. Numbers. Kin.”

“I do not doubt my kin, I do not doubt their strength.” Xenofos looks around the circle of elders “I saw estimate of numbers in New Pavis. I heard Stone camp would not have the strength to oppose that fury. So I do not wish to lead it to Straw weavers.”

“We will be travelling,” Erhehta points out.

“And hopefully without being bothered by those who might be looking for me.” Xefos shrugs “But since it was known I am of this clan and have been here this winter you might still encounter them.¨I hope not, but at least you are forewarned.”

“You said all this to Gallaf,” Erhehta admits. “He is not stupid either.”

Xenofos nods quietly. “Can you hide my passing from scrying eyes. I am concerned that once I take that thing from place where it is hidden now it may become visible to that evil spirit and through it his kin and servants?”

Erhahta considers. “You will want a fog spirit. On misty days, it is hard to see. If Gallaf wishes it, I will find you one.”

“Hiding is not in my nature, but if it protects those I love…” Xenofos drains his cup. “I would be grateful.”

“Talk again to the big man. He will tell. Now go away. I am thinking.” Erhehta seems to be done with the conversation.

Xenofos nods and rises to leave the shaman to his thoughts.

Late in Storm Season, with the winds lashing up the clouds, and the rain trying faithfully to remind Prax to be fertile. There is decent grass cover, and the animals are enjoying it. The weather, they are enjoying rather less.

Xenofos has mounted his zebra. He is carrying a shield on his hand with javelins on the ready. His bison cloak is shiny from drops of mist that seem to cling to him even when the weather is somewhat bearable.

Berra is on bisonback, with a bison behind her. Rather than have her hood up she has woven herself a grass hat, which is keeping some but not all of the water off. As her hood is now home to a small puddle, she may be stuck like this for a while.

“The wolf has disappeared for now.” Xenofos notes and when seeing the Humakti adds “You should maybe let that water flow outside your cloak, Berra”

First, Berra looks around for where the wolf isn’t, and then with a tiny satisfied nod, she tries to see behind her. With one hand holding the cloak still she manages enough to spot the problem. “Eh, it’ll only get wet again.” Praxian rain has defeated her, her tone says.

A shrug. “And I don’t think that is the last we have seen of that wolf either.” A dark cloud drifts over the face Xenofos. “Moonbroth should be close by. Those bolo people we met had left day before yesterday.”

Berra counts up on her fingers, and manages to reach three. “Yeah, but we don’t get to relax until we’re dead, right?”

“We do, but I don’t think I’ll relax before Boldhome.” He looks at the mountains in the west.”It’s not that far – four days, maybe six..”

Berra heaves a sigh. “Depends on the weather, yeah. You can reassure our household that Varanis is well.”

“You cannot enter Sartar yet, correct?”

“Not until the year’s up, or my exile’s pronounced over. Moonbroth for me. It’ll be good to see a place the Lunars got beaten.”

“I think I will have to go forward without delay.” He looks back over the trail they have passed. “I hate to split from you and leave you between possible pursuer and me. And split is not a very good tactical choice, but it may be necessary now.”

“What, you want to stop me fighting? I’m in favour of getting that thing as far away as possible, but you know why. And it’s not like I fear getting found.” Berra looks hopefully back behind them, but 200 magical ogre-vampires fail to attack.

“If it came to fight over this thing I would prefer you to protect your comrades. The others had it before and we could take it. Not worth for losing any of you. Especially if the thing is not with you anyway.” He tugs his beard “It might be I am depriving you of a fight by riding forward.” He makes a sign warding evil.” But I hope not. We don’t know if we are being pursued by them. “

“Nah, you’re taking the most sensible option. You get Kolyey and X11, although he might feer ovv.. veer off… for Drum Top. That should still put you in the Aranwyth or something. You can ask from there.” Berra has never studied geography.

“X11 is scary but a walker.” Xenofos looks around “Not that my bison is that much faster on a long trek.”

“S’fine. You can decide if you get away or if you stay. The right thing’s probably to get away, which might keep him safe, if something can catch you that hasn’t yet gone past us, but that one’s gotta be up to you.”

“It usually is. And you can’t plan for your everything your opponent may do or not, you just need to roll with the punches.” Xenofos taps the shaft of his javelin with his fingers. “This rain is probably good, but I wish I could play a tune with my kithara.”

Berra wrinkles her nose, and seems to be struggling for words. Finally she says, “Apparently trolls can tune rocks to play.”

“Could be.” He looks towards Varanis “When you know Maalira is safe keep an eye on her too, please. I would ask to keep her safe, but that is not in her nature – or yours.”

“Yeah, we go down together. Or she pulls my face out of jaws again. Either works.” Berra rubs thoughtfully at the scar on her nose.

“You take care, too.” He looks forward “No finer end for a warrior to die in a pile of slain warriors, but try not reach it quite yet please?”

Varanis glances at the pair, out of earshot, but perhaps her ears are burning. She arches a brow.

Berra only winces a little. “On top of the pile. You want to win first and then die, if you can. I mean, ideally you die a long time afterwards, but as long as you do what you set out to do, you want to be as high up the pile of the slain as you can be.”

“Oh, how fair it is to fall before your men,
Bravely struggling for your land, for your tribe, too….”

He shrugs “Succeeding makes more sense than just valiant effort of course. As does choosing your battles… I should probably tell Varanis too. That I am riding forward, that is.”

Touching edge of his helmet Xenofos turns the zebra towards the Vingan and rides to talk with her.

She gives Berra a wave, then nods at Xenofos as he approaches. “Cousin, are you keeping dry?”

Berra lifts a hand in not-greeting, and turns back to looking at the rain through the faint mist around them.

“Inside the cloak I can feel the warmth of the home yurts, cousin.” He looks east towards Goodplace “May they stay safe and herds fat.”

Following his gaze, she murmurs her agreement. “You’re determined to deliver this codex, not simply destroy it?” It’s a discussion they’ve already had, but she asks again anyway.

“Shamans drum, Varanis.” He looks at his satchelbag “Less spoken of it the better, but I don’t think I know enough to destroy it safely. Though I might try if it would look like it otherwise falls to their hands.”

“And I promised.” For Xenofos that comes surprisingly late as an argument.

She sighs, but nods her acceptance. “If they get too close and you’re worried it needs to be destroyed, as long as I’m strong enough, I’ll burn it for you.” A fiery sword through a magical text. It’ll probably work.

“If you are there. But I hope it will not come to that anyway.” Xenofos looks east. “Since we have not been attacked yet it seems quite possible we might not have been located by them.”

Varanis smooths a hand down her zebra’s neck. “But we won’t let our guard down. Vigilance is key here, Xenofos.”

“Vigilance and speed.” Xenofos looks back at the small Humakti “She can’t return to Sartar yet.”

“I know.”

The small Humakti is lying over her bison’s hump, patting the fur with her hands to watch the spray. Some people call her a warrior.

“Boldhome is less than a weeks ride.” Xenofos inhales strongly “I will not tarry in Moonbroth, but ride forward.”

Varanis looks at him, hard. Her mount flicks an ear at her, but otherwise continues to ignore her. “You know that Berra and I cannot go there yet?”

“I do.” Xenofos answers with a small nod.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth and releases it with a shuddering sigh. “Do you think you can make it there before Sacred Time?”

Again there is a small nod. “Uleria willing and if there is no unexpected flood, yes.”

Amazingly, there’s no argument, no negotiation, just a quiet warning. “Be extra careful then,” she says, staring at the road ahead. “Argrath will attempt to relight the Flame. If he fails, I think Boldhome will not fare well.”

“This Sacred Time? Or just at some time?” Scribe asks, his eyes shadowed by the brim of the helmet, horsehaircrest waving gently in the light breeze bringing more mist.

“This Sacred Time, I believe. At least, that is my understanding of why Eril warns me away from the city.”

“That can be good news for Sartar if he succeeds.” Xenofos looks to direction he thinks Boldhome is. “May make for a very interesting Sacred Time though…”

“Just be careful,” she says again.

Berra has fallen behind and is arguing with her bison about what ‘that way’ means. Her voice drifts over, ‘…ome… OOOONNNN!’

“I will.” Xenofos nods, after a pause he adds “I don’t like leaving you. I would not like if you told me you are leaving me behind. But I think now I really need to do that. Thank you for accepting that.”

She gives him a tight nod. “I don’t fully know what comes next,” she admits after a moment. “I need to cross into Sartar before Berra can. After Sacred Time.” After Argrath’s attempt. “But, I don’t know what my reception will be like in Boldhome. I may only go far enough to reach Grandfather Sartar and decide from there. I’ll try to send word if I can.”

thumpthumpthump… Berra is kicking Rode. Rode is eating. Followed is now also eating.

“You are leaving her?” Xenofos eyes dart towards Berra. ” I guess I can’t object… now. Sorry to hear that though.”

thumpthumpthump

“Not for long. Not if I can help it. But I will need to know what is going on in Sartar and if Eril can’t get her exile lifted early, then I will leave her long enough to ask grandfather myself.”

“I know you will only do what needs doing.” Xenofos is looking at Berra when saying that, not Varanis.

The little warrior finally gets her bison into motion, and starts the lumbering process of catching up with the group.

“You are doing the same. Neither of us likes it, but we both know what is necessary.” Varanis glances at Berra, back at Xenofos, and then finally directs her gaze to the road ahead. “It’s the best we can do.”

The road is a little misty, and of course there are scuds of rain from time to time, but the Lunars built it well.

“I know Varanis.” Xenofos tears his eyes from Humakti and her two bisons. “Orlanthspeed, Ranie.”

“May our ancestors guard you, dear one,” she replies softly.