Chapter 3: Torched

Two boys discover Berin and Glavino as they return to Berin's damaged home. Berin must choose to help one of the boys and be captured, or flee.

Torched

“Listen. I can hear something,” whispered Glavino.

Berin etched closer to the edge of the treeline. He turned to listen.

“I can hear nothing.”

“Maybe it is in my mind.” Glavino continued past the line of trees and walked up the incline. Berin breathed through clenched teeth.

Why so reckless?

The two men reached the baobab tree at the top of Violo Hill.

“This is where Erinu and Rini first learnt to climb the taller trees.”

“This is where I also first learnt to climb.”

“Is it so?”

“Yes, my parents once lived around here.”

“Now that you mention it, I do recall you telling me that.”

“Did I? I forget.”

“My house, it is just up the next hill.”

“I know. I have travelled here many times.”

“I am just saying it.”

The smell of black ash reached the two long before the sight. There was nothing remaining. No doorway. No kitchen awashed with the scent of baked cakes. No toys of Rini’s clashing against the wall as he flung them across the room. No tinkling of shiny pieces hung up at the entrance to Erinu’s bedroom. No cupboard holding Juolo’s beautiful dresses. Only black rubble lay there, smoldering away.

Berin and Glavino staggered across the grass, its softness curving under the weight of their feet. Glavino reached out to hold Berin. Berin stumbled to his knees. He began wailing, his face covered by shivering hands. Glavino knelt next to him.

“What a sight,” he whistled, placing his arm around Berin. Berin fell into the concave of his adunai arm. Glavino leant against him. Berin overbalanced and fell into Glavino’s stomach before realising and attempting to correct his equilibrium. They tumbled forwards, knocking their foreheads on the ground.

“Sorry Berin.”

“Forgiveness is mine to give.”

“I meant sorry for your house.”

I cannot forgive for that, he thought.

“You were right,” said Berin, weariness seeping from his words.

“We can do nothing about your house. Let us find somewhere to rest.”

Berin nodded. He righted himself and began walking towards the baobab tree.

Berin paused. He turned to Glavino, who heard it as well. Near the tree came a rustling.

“We are exposed!” cried Berin, looking for a hiding place. The rustling was high up in the tree but grew ever closer to the ground as it continued. Berin rushed towards the tree; knife at the ready. Glavino followed. Berin reached the tree the moment a pair of legs dropped from the foliage. Berin clasped one leg while the other kicked hard.

“Ow!”

He had to let go; the toenails dug into his hand.

The legs disappeared upwards into the foliage. Berin placed the knife’s handle in his mouth. He started climbing the tree, placing his foot on the first branch and hoisting himself upwards.

“Grab him!” cried Glavino from below, waiting to join Berin on the tree.

At that moment a deep noise sounded from the top of the tree. It was like the sound of a bull after conquering a heifer, boisterous and proud, strutting amongst the other bulls. It rang throughout the valley, echoing across the still night. Berin paused. Anyone within an ingas was sure to hear it. He continued up the tree. As he looked upwards, the same legs came into view. He clasped one, the same one as before. The person attached to the leg cried out, before their body dropped past Berin.

“It is a boy!” murmured Berin as a wide-eyed face dropped past his own. The boy knocked into the branch below Berin, sending him in a spin. Berin began to descend. He heard a grunt from below, combined with a thud. The boy surely landed on his head, that kind of sound. That was disastrous, no doubt.

Berin reached the lowest branch with his feet and jumped to the ground. He turned to see Glavino lying there, holding his shoulder. The boy was facedown in the grass, clasping his ear.

“He’s alive!” Berin blurted, dropping the knife from his mouth. He hurried over to the boy and turned him upright. Sitting him up, he inspected the boy. His eyes were half closed, groaning like an old man reaching for his cane lying on the ground. His ear was reddened, though no blood exited his body. He fully opened his eyes. His mouth widened as he sucked in the night air. He held it in, waiting for his fate.

“Are you hurt?” The boy did not answer, but continued to keep his breath in his lungs. Berin repeated the question; there was no verbal response. Glavino leant over Berin. The boy’s fearful eyes looked at him, then again at Berin.

“Keturah?” asked Glavino. The boy nodded.

Behind them came more rustling from the tree. The two men turned to see another boy, chattering in the Keturah tongue. He jumped up and down, his arms flailing about.

Glavino said a phrase in Keturah. The second boy stopped immediately. He raced over to his friend, taking the place of Berin in holding his head. Berin stepped back, watching the two.

“What are they doing here?”

“I do not know.”

Glavino asked briefly in Keturah. The second boy, though half sobbing, responded.

“They were watching your house to see if anyone would return,” Glavino interpreted.

“And?”

Glavino relayed the question to the boy. He was absorbed with his friend, ignoring at first Glavino’s question. When Glavino asked a second time, he turned and spoke in broken Vergaran.

“They come.”

“Who?”

“They. They come.”

“Glavino, the noise must have been a call to the soldiers.”

Berin stood up. His eyes looked around. In this light, or lack or it, there was no way he would see any attackers until the last possible moment.

“We are vulnerable out here.”

Like prey, he thought.

“What about the boy?”

“What about him?”

“His head is bruised. Cannot leave him here.”

“We could get caught if we linger too long.”

“But…”

“Glavino, he has his friend here. From the sounds of it, whoever asked him to spy on the house will be here soon as well. He will be fine.”

“But…”

“Look, Glavino, I understand you feel for this boy. But he is from Keturah. He is the…” Berin paused.

“Enemy?”

“Right.”

“But he is the same age as Rini. How can he be the enemy?”

“Because he is of their tribe.”

“Look at him. Both of them. Scared.”

“I know.”

“Do not kill them.”

“Kill them?”

“Like in your house, before.”

Berin’s eyes widened, and then softened.

“I will not kill them. They are merely doing their duty. They are not going to kill us. But we will be dead soon if we do not hurry.”

Glavino nodded. Berin collected his knife and placed it inside his belt. Kneeling beside the boy, he felt his head. There was a bruise where the boy landed. His friend continued to talk until finally the first boy lifted his head and spoke.

“He is going to be alright. See, Glavino?”

Glavino nodded.

Berin rose and strode away from the tree, from the boys, from the smoldering house. Glavino bent to whisper something to the boys.

“Are you coming, Glavino?”

“Coming.”

Glavino followed Berin to the treeline, his pace quick to reach Berin. They both paused at the trees.

“Why have we stopped, Berin?”

“I am trying to think.”

“About what?”

“How to retreat. We cannot return to the cave.”

“Nor the house.”

“I wonder.”

“What about Yerisi’s track?”

“Yerisi’s track?”

“My child friend Yerisi. Used to play lots. His house on the far side of the forest. Took a long time to reach our houses if go the long way around. One day, Yerisi cut a path through forest. Shorter time.”

“How much?”

“Much.”

“Do you think you could find the track, after all these years?”

“Maybe.”

“Will not it be overgrown by grass? Or the trees regrown around it?”

“Maybe a bad idea.”

“I did not say it was a bad idea. It is the only idea we have.”

“Right, it started here.” Glavino led the way, with Berin following. They stayed behind the second row of trees, Glavino carefully stepping over wild roots and prickly twigs.

“Can you not move faster?”

“They hurt if step on them.”

“Of course. Are your feet not leathery enough?”

“Leathery?”

“Tough. You do live in the wild, do you not?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you do climb Chifre. That should make your feet tough.”

“No. I have soft skin on feet.”

Berin had to admit his feet had grown soft in recent eklars.

“Fine. But remember, we must hasten.”

The two continued, Berin’s breath ever restless. They clambered over fallen trunks until Berin thought he would be ready to fall like one.

“Here it is, the start of the path.”

Surprisingly, there is one, thought Berin.

“Let us carry on near the treeline and circle around until we reach the path further in.”

“Why?”

“We do not want any pursuers to find the path as well, do we?”

“They will see it?”

“No, I would not have seen it unless you showed it to me.”

“They will not see it then?”

“No. Even if they follow us, we will throw them off the path.”

“How?”

“We will find a tree to climb, one that is close enough to other trees. We will leap to another one, climb down, and carry on back to the path. It will only be by the luck of the gods should they find our tracks again, in this light.”

“I am thirsty.”

“That will have to wait.”

“But…” Glavino started, then paused, releasing the remainder of the breath he held to finish the rest of the sentence. Berin wondered if he could sense in Berin’s words the urgency. Glavino closed his mouth, half nodding his head in agreement.

“Let us go.”

The two carried on silently, hoping their footsteps would not contact anything untoward or create a dangerous level of sound, before finding a series of trees close together.

“The leechen tree �" it should be strong enough to hold us both.”

“They are so close together. Will we fit between them?”

Berin glanced up and down Glavino, who did the same to him.

“I would, with my leaner figure. I am not so certain about you.”

“What do you mean?” Glavino whispered.

“You are quite broad shouldered, my friend.”

That seemed to satisfy Glavino. Berin led the way as they climbed the leechen tree. About halfway up, Berin used a branch to swing onto an adjacent tree.

“See how easy it is?”

“I suppose.”

“You try.” Berin climbed further up his tree. He watched as Glavino swung on the branch, his body swaying between the two trunks.

“Cannot let go.”

“You must.”

“Where do I grab?”

“See the branch next to you?”

Glavino nodded. He let go when his body was swinging back to the first trunk, away from Berin. His body dropped. As he did, he looked towards Berin, those eyes holding the same expression as the boy’s.

“Grab the trunk!”

Glavino clasped his arms around the second trunk, sliding down it before coming to a stop.

“Not doing that again,” he groaned.

“We have to, Glavino. Next time, wait until your body is swinging this way, in the direction you wish to go. That will be easier.”

“Fine.” His voice sounded distant.

“Climb up.” Glavino did, though it seemed every rise to the next level was painful.

“Watch me again.” Berin climbed to the next available branch and swung across to the next leechen trunk.

“See how I waited until my body was moving towards the next tree?”

“Mmm.”

“Do the same.”

This time Glavino was successful, but it was clear to Berin he preferred to be safe on the ground, two feet firmly planted on hardened earth.

“Mountains are much easier to climb.”

“Perhaps. One more and we shall return to the ground.”

“Fine.”

Berin and Glavino swung across to the last trunk and the former glided down the trunk while the latter gradually stepped down. Refocussing their bearings, they set off in what they supposed was a circular motion to coincide with the path.

“Here it is,’ whispered Glavino as the predawn rays lightened the sky above them. ‘I thought we would never reach it. How did you know we were walking like a circle?

Berin did not. He ignored the question.

“Quickly, let us hurry.”

The two staggered their way along the path. This was step one on the journey to Ariquemes. There, they would find safety. From there, Berin hoped to plan a route to Akola. He would have his wife and children returned to him, safely.

There was no doubt about it.