Camp of the Send

Mucker wept.

The ancient exiled Totanbeni, Hartog, had threatened him, screamed at him and then just stared at him in murderous silence. Finally, he had turned to the woman and said, "He is Totanbeni, but he knows nothing."

Alone now, the great frame shook as sobs wracked him. He wept for Tread, who would surely come to try to save him, and he couldn't see how his fellow former apprentice could help him. He wept for Reur, the stranger who was mostly responsible for everything that had happened to them.

Most especially, though, Mucker wept for himself: the failed guider, the stupid Totanbeni, the wayward, homesick man. And he remembered, back on the river ages ago, when they left the fens, what he had learned then.

"Anyway we go, we die," he repeated to himself, but this was no consolation to the despair he felt, now that the Send had captured and sentenced him. What that sentence was, he had no idea, but if a Send was captured in Totanbeni lands, the Send would be killed.

The room they held him in had one door and no windows. A grill in the door let the guards look in on him. The ground was dry, packed earth. Dried grasses were scattered over it. The walls were wood, the hinges on the outside little more than loops of rope over pegs. It was the type of building common to these people.

Mucker had no thoughts of escape, though he could probably break down one of the walls. They had left him unbound, but he knew a guard was outside. Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to stop crying.

The door opened, and two guards ushered Reur in. The short, dark-skinned man swayed a couple of times, then stumbled toward Mucker, who caught him as he fell. During this, the guards left, shutting the door behind them.

"Reur?"

"Mucker?" Reur's voice was slurred. "What?"

Mucker's mind leapt to the worst conclusion. "They killed Tread, didn't they? And you've been captured! Oh, we're all gonna die!"

"Nope," Reur said slowly, extricating himself from the sobbing giant. He slumped back against the wall, looking around muzzily. "Jus' me. There is no Tread. An' Raven escaped."

"What are you talking about? And why are you talking like that?"

"They made me," Reur burped, "drink somethin' cuz I tole them I was guider-er. Your master." He laughed, punching the air in the direction of Mucker, who leaned back. "An' you my ‘prentice."

"That's not ..."

"Mucker," Reur interrupted, focusing a stern gaze on him. "I'm gonna pass out." And he did.

The giant Totanbeni stared at Reur for some time before he moved, stretching the man out on the floor so he could rest more easily. Then he curled up and tried to sleep.

Anyway we go, we die.

********

Firth struggled with the following paradox: If the damnen is sacrificed, we'll all die. If the damnen is freed, we'll all die.

He went to his father, Garth, a powerful warrior.

"Father, why do we have to sacrifice the damnen?"

"The what?" Garth was sharpening spears. He shaved a length off the end of the spear, rotated it and shaved again. Shave, rotate, shave, rotate – in six simple twists, another spear. It would break if used too much, and dull after the first pierce, but one pierce was usually all you needed.

"The stranger," Firth said, cursing himself. His father was not known for great intuitive leaps, and he certainly had not ever listened to Hartog.

"Do we have to do what to him?" He tossed one spear onto the pile in front of him, and grabbed another stick.

"Sacrifice him."

Garth paused, staring at the building where the stranger and his friend were.

"He offered himself, as is proper," he said finally.

"But he is not of the tribe, only a Send can offer himself properly."

"You should talk to your mother," his father said after a few more minutes of thought. "It is her decision."

"What would you do?"

"I would kill him and feed him to the worms."

Firth went to his mother, Heli, a wise and powerful leader to the tribe.

"Mother, why do we have to sacrifice the stranger?" He was careful not to say damnen. She tolerated Hartog's tales, but thought most of them were gibberish.

She smiled slightly, and Firth knew she was somewhat pleased that he was taking an interest in tribe affairs.

"Sendala sent us two offerings today," she told him. "The first one begat the second one, who was found harvesting. No stranger would appear and simply begin working without first asking for payment. The second one asked for his payment later: Freeing the first one. Then he offered himself to be sacrificed, and no sacrifice is better than a willing one."

"We do not usually sacrifice strangers though, right, mother?"

"This is true, Firth. Son."

"So why this one?" he insisted.

"Would you have me let him go?"

"No," Firth said immediately, sullenly.

She sighed. "Two strangers in one day, and one tries to sell us our own rice for the other and expects us to do it? The truth is, he should be treated as a person stealing from us. But why waste him in that when we can use him as a sacrifice? Sendala would be happy."

Firth left his mother, somewhat mollified. He had found an answer to his dilemma, but he knew neither his father or mother would do it.

He must do it himself.

********

As night fell and the small cook fires were lit around the great bonfire to be used for the midnight sacrifice, another stranger arrived.

All of the Send leaders and guiders were here, and many members from all seven towns. This harvest would end the next day, so much negotiating was ahead for dividing up the rice and vegetables stored.

Everyone was there to see the woman with the hawk on her shoulder walk into the town, trailed by four Send guards whom she ignored.

Heli approached her. "Greetings to the Vagal from the Send," she said. "This is most unexpected."

Raven's smile was cold in the firelight. "Greetings to the Send from the Vagal. I am Raven, raptor keeper."

"I am Heli, chief."

"I would like to discuss a trade with you."

"Have food with us first," Heli said. "We can discuss trade in the morning. Tonight, we celebrate the harvest."

Raven smiled again, and somehow her smile was more chilly. "I would trade you for your two prisoners."

Silence grew, and the fires seemed to dim. Heli glanced around, motioned people to ignore them.

"We must discuss this in private," she said and led Raven to a large building. Several warriors and the other tribal leaders followed.

Raven took a deep breath and began to delay. She still wasn't sure why she was doing this, but she knew two things: The Vagal would never take her back, and Reur was the only reason she was alive today.

********

Tread crept silently through the town. He had sneaked in behind the guards trailing Raven, and now, in the town, no guards bothered the people there. With all the extra people about, as well, he could always say he was from some other place.

The small problem he faced now was finding Reur and Mucker. Attempts earlier in the day to ascertain their locations had nearly led to his being seen, and Raven had been adamant about his invisibility. Well, not adamant, maybe, but still forceful. She hadn't exactly threatened bodily harm, but she had done one of her little games with the raptors where one had landed on his head. He scratched at his missing hair.

Tread ignored the smaller buildings and worked his way unobtrusively toward the bigger ones in the center of town. He smiled briefly as a bunch of kids ran by him, shouting in whatever game they played. An older one trailed them purposefully, watching over them Tread guessed. No one looked twice at him. He came out of a building's shadow and saw a building with a few guards near it.

That's it, he thought, and ducked back into the shadow. That's it. What would they guard except their prisoners?

The tribe's leaders would have Raven someplace private right now, arguing over a bargain for the two prisoners. She had explained that her best bet to delay any sacrifice was to discuss the prisoners. And who would expect a rescue attempt at the same time?

Dodging buildings, weaving from shadow to shadow, he made his way behind the building. The door here had two guards. No windows. He scrambled up the wall, a well-sealed but pocked and thin wooden thing, and crouched on the roof. The boards were warped, the bark and plant covering in bad need of replacement. Tread felt it sag underneath him.

Not trying to stand up, he ripped some of the roof off and looked down into a room. Empty. He crawled carefully to another room. Empty. He crawled to a third one.

"Invasion! Invasion!" a bunch of boys screamed, and Tread froze. He was above the back door, but low to the ground.

"Invasion!" It sounded more like a bunch of kids playing a game, and the laughs and running feet filled the path below him.

"Hey," said a guard, then Tread heard something smack someone.

"Hey, you kids!" said the other guard, and there was the sound of running feet.

"Invasion!" the kids shouted, and a whirring of slings. Stones and mud hit the guards with scary precision in this dim light.

"Stop it!" shouted one of the guards, and Tread heard two sets of feet chase after the running, laughing children.

Tread leaned his head over the edge. The doorway was empty. Wait ... He saw a shadow cross the street quickly, open the door and disappear inside. Before Tread could react, the two guards were back, doused in water, holding drinks and laughing about kids these days.

Cursing silently, Tread moved on, trying another patch.

They have to be here. I'm running out of time.

*******

Reur woke to the joyful screams of children playing what was probably a cruel and nasty game. His head hurt, as though he was hung over, but he knew he had only had one shot of that vile beverage they had offered him.

He looked at where Mucker hunched in a corner, muttering to himself.

"Mucker," he said, his voice dry.

"Reur! You're awake!"

"Yeah," Reur said, and tried to stand up. "What's going on?"

"I don't know."

Reur nodded, shading his eyes even though there wasn't any light. Using the wall to support him, he found the door. Looking out through the grill, he saw that there were no guards, but someone small walked down the hall toward them.

He leaned back and lifted his leg to kick the door, and fell over. Getting back to his feet slowly, he called to Mucker.

"Kick down this door, will you? I don't want to be sacrificed today."

"I can't do that," Mucker said, not moving.

"What?" Reur turned slowly to look at him. "Why not?"

"Because I deserve to be sacrificed."

"You're not the one who's going to be sacrificed, Mucker," Reur said. "I am. Something about Sendala liking a guider more than an apprentice. Well, they're in for a shock." Reur tried out the last sentence again. It was in Median.

Mucker stood then. He looked down at Reur, seeming to tower over the scholar in the darkness.

"You're not a guider," Mucker said. "Ever since you arrived, we're always about to die."

Reur took a deep breath and ignored the man's second statement. "Your language doesn't have a word for what I do. Guider is the closest thing."

"I refuse to be your apprentice. I just want to go home."

"I didn't ask you," Reur said. "They assumed it." He was glad for the darkness.

"Where's Tread?"

"I hope he's on his way to rescue us, but just in case he isn't, will you please kick down the door so we can get out of here?"

At which point, the door opened, and a shadow slipped into the room.

"I will kill you, damnen," Firth said, his voice quavering. The wooden spear in his hand was nearly invisible in the darkness, and, Reur had no doubt, as sharp as wood can get.

Reur crouched back against the far wall. "I'm not a damnen," he said. "I don't even know what a damnen is."

"I know you are, you lying monster," the boy said, advancing on him. The light from the hall was behind him, so to Reur he was just a silhouette, but Reur's eyes probably showed brightly. Reur shut his eyes.

"I thought, if mom sacrifices you to Sendala, we'll all die because Sendala won't accept the sacrifice and will punish us. And I thought, if mom lets you go, you can just come back and murder us in our sleep. So you have to die, but not be sacrificed. But mom won't do it, because you offered yourself ... she can't see your duplicity! But I can! And dad won't do it, because mom won't do it ... he has no backbone." The boy's voice was shaking in rage. His entire body spasmed in his anger at Reur.

"What if I promise to leave and never come back?" Reur insisted.

"Words from a damnen's mouth cannot be trusted," Firth said. He thrust with the spear, and Reur dodged.

Then Mucker leapt, and the ceiling fell in. Tread crashed onto Mucker with a yell, and Reur ran out into the hall, Firth hot on his heels.

"Mucker! I'm here to rescue you! Where's Reur?" Reur heard behind him as he ran down the hall.

He reached the main door and crashed through it, dashing past the two guards. Firth chased after him into the light of the great bonfire, newly lit. Reur pushed past the back row of people, and soon ran into the front crush. He lost track of the boy as he finally stumbled into the central clearing. The fire loomed in front of him. With no time to slow down or dodge, he dove through the fire, hitting the ground rolling. He saw Firth break out into the area just as he crashed into Raven, knocking them both down.

"What? Reur?" she said.

"Raven! Come on! He's trying to kill me!"

"Firth!" the voice boomed across the crackling of the bonfire and firmly silenced the muttering crowd.

The boy skidded to a halt under his mother's roar, breathing heavily, the spear set. He never took his eyes off Reur, who slowly climbed to his feet and turned and faced him.

"Firth! What are you doing?"

Heli motioned at Garth, who took up a place between Reur and Firth. He divided his angry stare equally between the two of them.

"Drop that spear, Firth!"

"This monster is evil!" Firth shouted. "Mud washes right off him. Water doesn't make him sick. Fire will not hurt him. He is a damnen and cannot be sacrificed!"

"Shouldn't have done that trick with the jumping," Raven muttered at him.

"What are you talking about?" Heli said.

Reur noted Tread and Mucker pushing their way to the front of the crowd. He motioned them over near him and Raven.

"Hartog told me! If you sacrifice him, Sendala will abandon us!"

The crowd started muttering.

"Wife," Garth said, seeming to be unsure.

"How did negotiations go?" Tread asked quietly, as Heli advanced on her son.

"Mucker I got free. It seems Reur offered himself willingly. I couldn't get him."

"What were you offering to trade?" Reur asked.

She blushed. "Information on training raptors."

"Firth! Drop that spear and get over here, or there'll be two sacrifices tonight!"

"Mother! He must die!" And Firth threw the spear with deadly accuracy at Reur.

Time seemed to slow. Reur watched the spear sail toward him, unable to think for the point growing slowly larger as it came toward him. He was vaguely aware of Tread stumbling over Mucker and knocking them both down in an attempt to push him out of the way and get out of the way themselves. He felt Raven tugging at him, and felt himself start to fall over. The last thing he saw before time caught up was Garth's fist slamming against the top of the shaft and knocking the spear to the ground.

The spear clattered against the hard packed earth, and the only sound was the crackle of the bonfire and Heli's steps toward her astonished son, curiously loud against the night.

Heli glared at her son. Firth shrank under gaze, turning back into a toddler caught playing in the mud.

"Garth, take our son back to the house. I'll speak with him later. I want to know what damnen possessed him."

Garth led him off. She turned to the Send, weighing them. They watched her reverently. Finally, she turned to the four strangers.

"There has been quite a bit of confusion here," she said, loudly. "First, the Totanbeni Mucker shows up at our field, and we apprehend him without hailing him. Then, the guider Reur is found harvesting in our field, and my son and his friends attack him without provocation. Then Reur offers himself to be sacrificed in place of Mucker, though we had not intended to sacrifice Mucker, and," she held up a hand to forestall Reur's open mouth, "perhaps he misunderstood our intentions. Later, Raven of the Vagal showed up to bargain for Mucker's and Reur's lives, during which it was confirmed that Reur only recently learned our language, which could lead to more confusion. Now there is a fourth of you, whom I will not ask about."

She addressed the rest of the crowd. "It is my judgement that none of these people can be sacrificed, as they did not knowingly and willingly offer themselves and are not a part of this tribe."

The crowd muttered, and Raven grasped Reur's hand tightly. Reur surprised himself by grasping back. Tread and Mucker gave collective sighs.

"However, as we are prepared for a sacrifice, I feel we must go through with one."

The four tensed again.

"Hartog!" she cried, pointing, and the crowd parted to where the aged, exiled Totanbeni was sneaking away. "Come here and offer yourself!"

"Why ... why me?" he asked as the crowd pushed him forward.

"Firth would only have gotten the idea of damnens from you," she said. "You have caused more damage than I care to admit. You shall be the sacrifice."

Reur led Raven, Mucker and Tread away in the night before the sacrifice.

"I may start praying to Sendala," Reur said. "I feel like I was saved today."

"You were saved because you don't pray to her," Raven said.

"How much did you tell them about raptors?"

Raven motioned to her empty arm. "We are down to one chick now. This means we can move faster."

"Does anyone remember which way we were heading?" Tread asked.

The three who were certain they were going the wrong way looked at each other. Reur saw the imploring look in Mucker's eyes, and nodded.

Sighing with relief, Mucker turned around and pointed away from the Send's town.

"That way," he said. "We're going home."

Copyright 2005-2007 Eric Zawadzki and Matthew Schick. All Rights Reserved.
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