Chapter 4: A Lost Vergara

A Chapter by Steve Clark

Murderer: the word preys on Berin's mind as they discover the ruins of the capital city.

A Lost Vergara

“Berin! Not those berries!” shouted Glavino as he slapped Berin’s outstretched hand.

“Why not?”

“Because they are poisonous. Give you a sore stomach.”

“How come you know so much about berries?” Berin said as he held where Glavino had slapped; a red mark was sure to grow.

Glavino stopped collecting berries, the non-poisonous ones, and glanced at Berin. “Remember the first time we met?”

“Of course! We were at Juolo’s little sister’s undinuco, the coming of age, party for her.”

“I had already lived in the wild woods for many eklars. You soon learn what your stomach can take, and what it cannot!”

“Well, I shall follow your orders, Commando,’ teased Berin. ‘I will not eat of this fruit, but I know we can eat the yellow berries.”

“Call me Councillor,’ Glavino reciprocated the jest. ‘Of course! They are the best!”

“I remember eating these while living in the Vergaran wild, too.”

“Lived in the wild?”

Berin paused his whole body and looked to Glavino.

“I am certain I have told you about my life in the forest before I met Juolo.”

“No, I would remember.”

Berin’s brow burrowed deep into his forehead.

“I know I have. Anyway, I was a free ranger, a man from a distant land with no home. It was in the wild where I met Juolo, and the rest, well, we shall say you know.”

Glavino cocked his head, as though remembering. He was about to respond, then paused, shook his head and continued in silence collecting the yellow berries.

“I think I have forgotten. I do that.’ Then, as though changing the subject, ‘How many veros has it been since we left our homes?”

Since that dreaded night, Berin thought.

“Ten.”

“That many already? Amazing.”

“That is correct.” Berin looked for a way to alter the conversation. Anything to forget that night was better. Or should he never forget that moment with his family. No, it only led to the killing.

“Although these berries are tasty, I cannot wait to eat some proper food in Buenito.”

“Or sleep on a proper bed.”

“Agreed.”

Glavino stopped.

“Ariquemes? It was in ruins.”

“Yes. And to think, Juolo and Rini had only been there a few veros earlier.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they went to hear the storyteller. What is his name?”

“Melchiorre!”

“That is it.”

“I love his stories!”

“You too?”

“Yes, indeed!”

“Why did you not traverse to Ariquemes this eklar?”

“Too busy.”

“Oh.” Berin allowed the response to linger. Glavino shifted the weight of his body from foot to foot. His incessant finger tapping against his hip started again. In his other hand, Glavino rolled something between his fingers. It was part of a small round chain of some sorts. Avoiding eye contact, he pretended to seek out the yellow berries.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is amiss?”

“Meaning?”

“You are not telling me something.”

“I have to go relieve myself. Out the back end.”

“Fine. Be quick. We have to keep moving.”

“Yes.”

“And use the gurrio leaves. They are best for wiping. Leaves no red marks.”

“Yes.”

“And cover your business afterwards. We do not want anyone following to discover it.”

“Yes, Mama,” Glavino smiled.

“Fine. Just making sure you understand.”

Glavino wandered off behind the gurrio bush. Berin wondered what the chain was. Was it something significant to Glavino, like the beaded necklace of Juolo to Berin? Berin clutched the necklace. In the last ten veros, Berin managed to reattach the beads to a strand of a plant of which he knew not the name. It was firmly attached to his belt, somewhere he could finger it with his indinai to remind him of his purpose.

Loud noises could be heard from behind the gurrio bush, higher pitched than Berin had heard before. Juolo’s bladder noises were the only ones he could tolerate. Erinu was the worst, constantly emitting noises, even while he slept. There was something about the way Juolo emptied her bowels…it was not beautiful. Nothing about excrement was beautiful, except perhaps the flowers that bloomed from its use in the garden. Berin smiled. Even after being displaced from home, not knowing the location of his family, some things, like bowel movements, like the soldier relieving himself outside the cave, never changed.

That is what keeps me motivated. Reality.

Glavino emerged, with a look of satisfaction as he slowly readjusted his clothes.

“I have not done that for three veros.”

“I did not need to know that.”

“Berries must be helping.”

“Of course they are. Let us keep moving.”

As Berin and Glavino walked over the last hills between Ariquemes and Buenito, they saw what became a familiar sight in their beloved Vergara. Smoke billowed from the city, and Berin could see no walls.

“The Keturah army has ravaged our entire territory in no time,” he gasped.

“How is that possible?”

“Perhaps King Labar had this planned for a rather lengthy time.”

“I liked him when I first heard about him.”

“I, I…”

“Hate the man?” Glavino finished.

“Despised is better. Hate cannot even begin to describe it.”

“I despise him too.”

“I despised him long again. Have you heard the rumours?”

“No.”

“They say he is in love with his mother.”

“Disgusting!”

“Exactly. Sounds like his namesake.”

“Meaning?”

“In our tongue, does one not call lust Labar?”

“What is lust?”

“When you desire someone sexually, I think.”

“That what it means? That what Labar means? I have wondered.”

“Yes. So he called that because of his lust for his mother.”

“You think his father called him lust?”

“I think Labar means something else to the Bacana. But naming him that, it seems ironic, does it not?”

“I know not.”

“Me neither.”

“Do not the Bacana name their children when they come of age?”

“How do you mean?”

“Melchiorre told us that last eklar. The Bacana wait until the child is older before naming them.”

“What do they call the child before then?”

“I know not. Boy or girl, perhaps?”

“That is strange. I say, do you think Labar’s father, King Kenan, called Labar that deliberately? Like he saw something in the eye of the boy he used our tongue to aptly name his boy. I wonder what lustful things Labar did as a child?”

“Please stop talking about it.”

Berin felt a burning sensation yearning from deep inside, burning not unlike the Buenito they saw before them. It had boiled since the moment he laid eyes on his own smoldering house.

I cannot describe it.

No, it had started when he grasped the knife, the moment he stabbed and murdered those soldiers.

Murder. I am a murderer.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Swallowing became impossible. His chest rose. The bottom of his eyes became like spring water.

“Berin, what is the matter?”

“Nothing. Where is the Vergaran army?”

“We have an army?”

“I think we do.”

“Labar too quick. Had no time to…”

“To marshall?”

“Yes, to marshall.”

“Surely we would have guards at Buenito. To guard the Councillors.”

“Maybe not enough.”

“Looks like it.”

Berin returned to his earlier thoughts as the two circumvented the city, instead staying close to the ridges of the surrounding hills.

I am not a murderer. Murderers have prior intent. I had to decide then and there, it was their lives or mine. And forget not the life of Glavino. How would he have defended himself? Sure, he has the muscular capabilities to withstand a knuckled fight. But with swords? No, he would have no hope.

And, they took hold of my family. No, it had to be done, or my life would have been lost. I have saved two people from slaughter, from eternal Abbadon.

“I have saved Glavino and me from elkeler.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was speaking out my thoughts.”

“What is elkeler?”

“Do you not know?”

“No.”

“It is the place we all travel to when we die.”

“No it is not.”

“Yes, yes it is. It is a fiery place where all souls depart to.”

“No, all men go to heofon.”

“That is not true. The gods send us to elkeler.”

“Who believes that? My mother and father taught me about heofon.”

“I told you before. I come from a distant land. I am not Vergaran, at least I was not born here.”

“Juolo married a man not from Vergara?”

“Indeed. I have told you this before.”

“I forget things. My nature.”

Silence grew between the two, much like the fog in the valley, the way it had when they hid in the alcove. They left the ridge they were following and carried into another, hoping no soldiers lay in wait in the heights above.

That night, as they slowly feasted on yellow berries and these strange insects Glavino suggested were delicious, Glavino rose and came closer to Berin.

“Want to play passin?”

“What?”

“Passin. It is a good game.”

“I have never heard of it.”

“This is what you do.” Glavino collected a number of pebbles lying nearby. He lined them in a row, like lined trees in the orchards near their houses, their former houses. Picking up the first, he grinned at Berin.

“Throw this pebble in the air and collect one pebble off the ground. Then repeat until you drop it.” He demonstrated, launching the pebble in the air before groping for the next one in the row. Every time the first pebble rose above the height of the flames of the fire, Glavino snatched another pebble. He caught it eight times before the pebbles fell out of his hand.

“Well done.”

“Thanks you. You try.”

“I will.’ Berin picked up a pebble while Glavino realigned the pebble orchard. ‘We had a similar game when I was a child. We used to do it with sticks.” He threw the first in the air and groped about the dirt for the first pebble. It was not there. The pebble came crashing down as he leant forward and tried to catch it. Dust sprayed into the flames, causing more smoke to rise. Berin, leaning on his elbows, looked to his open hand. It was empty. Glavino was giggling.

“Try again?”

“Yes,” he said as he wiped the dust away from his arms and hands. Kneeling down, he attempted the game again. This time, Berin was able to pick up six pebbles before the first pebble hit the ground.

“Not bad for first time. Second time.”

“Be quiet,’ Berin joked. ‘It would be easier with sticks.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I will get some more sticks.”

Berin settled his rear onto the ground.

“Perhaps later.”

Glavino seated next to him, lobbing one of the pebbles in the air, catching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“You enjoy killing those men?”

He is rather blunt at times, Berin thought.

“No. Not at all.”

“Did you mean to kill them?”

Berin paused, his eyes searching the part of his brain that withheld the answer.

“Yes, I think I had to kill them. They wanted us dead. To stop that, I had to stop them.”

“Will the gods be happy with you?”

“The gods can go live in excrement for all I care. They do not care about me. I have learnt to look out for myself and for my family.” Berin was shocked to hear the tone of his own voice. It was not quite how he felt. Or was it?

“How dare you!” Glavino spat.

“I do not believe the gods have the time to deal with us. They have their own concerns. Me, I have to keep myself alive. I have been doing it since I was a child. Why should I change now?”

“But the gods…”

“From where I came, we had different gods to the ones in Vergara. They did nothing for me.”

“But you had to acknowledge the Vergaran gods to marry Juolo?”

“Yes, I only said that to marry her. She knows that. She accepts my thoughts on the gods.”

“If others had known, they might have cast you out. Her father and mother would have…”

“So what, it would not be as bad as this.”

“Have you thought maybe this is happening to you because you angered the gods?”

“And this is happening to you because…you angered them as well?”

“I hope not.”

“I do not think Labar’s severe actions were influenced by the gods. His ghastly mother, maybe, a lust for power, yes. Those things influenced him. But the gods? They are too distant to care about the people of this world.”

Glavino avoided Berin’s eyes for the remainder of the night; he had a pained expression on his face. Even as he slept, a slight whimper, like that of a dog kicked by its master, came from his direction.

I am right, Berin thought. The gods want nothing to do with us. I had to decide then and there what course, what path I take. I chose my life and I have no regrets.

Berin woke the next morning to see Glavino awake early, huddled nearer to the glimmering embers. He was rocking back and forth like a baby on the cusp of being able to sit up.

Just like Rini and Erinu, he thought, and chuckled at the brief memory.

Glavino’s eyes were facing the embers, though they failed to fixate. His arms wrapped around himself. Every time he rocked back, his head hit a log behind him. It created a dull, constant beat. Berin crawled over to him and enveloped him in an embrace. Glavino’s rocking eased, but still he stared, as though deep inside his thoughts.

How I long to be five eklars old and to crawl inside my mother’s hugs, he thought. To weep until there were no more tears, to sob until my soul eases of this weight. This is no adventure. This is the depths of the abyss.

“I get the killing of the soldiers,” Glavino interjected his thoughts.

“Mhm.”

“Would you have killed those boys?”

Oh dear, how do I answer this one?

“Glavino, I know not.”

“If they had a sword, or any weapon, would you have?”

“I know not,” Berin repeated.

“But they are children.”

“They are the enemy.”

“They were the same age as your own.”

Rini. Erinu.

“Of course.”

“Would you have killed them?”

“I think not.”

“I hope not.”

I would not, he concluded. He thought the boy falling and bumping his head was harsh enough. For certain, they were the enemy. For certain, they had alerted someone the occupants had returned.

But I could not kill them.

Especially when he saw their eyes. Their wild, wide, jittery eyes.

I cannot kill any child.

“Why me?” Berin wailed between sobs. But no one answered, not even Glavino, for there was no answer.

Finally, after the awareness of the time they had spent in embrace, Berin rose to his feet, dragging a sleepy Glavino with him.

“Why was there no word from Melchiorre about Labar and the soldiers coming? I thought the man knew everything of the history of our world.”

“Perhaps he knew nothing. No one did.”

“You do not suppose?” Berin stopped himself, almost angry at pertaining the thought.

“What?”

“Nothing. It is just Juolo and Rini returned early from the festival. If they had stayed, they would have been in Ariquemes.”

“So?”

“So? I would have no idea where they were. They would be dead, for sure.”