Chapter 12: A Cabin in the Plains

Berin and Glavino encounter a most unusual character.

A Cabin in the Plains

“We will never reach the Ouro, the gold fields, it seems,” gasped Glavino.

“Have faith, my friend.” Berin wiped the droplets from his forehead. They were dripping into his eyes, making it difficult to see the path.

After their ordeal with the monster, Berin and Glavino had returned to the base of the mountains, unable to find a feasible path over them. They travelled west for two veros before attempting to cross the mountains again.

“We must cross eventually,” suggested Glavino.

Berin nodded, though his heart still raced faster than ants before a storm. The image of the flaming beast was still ingrained in his mind, as though it were fire-carved into wood. Both men struggled to sleep; fearsome images rose in their dreams until they realised staying awake was better for the calming of their souls.

The lightning had not ceased since that fatal night, the storm growing ever worse. Shelter was seldom, so they continued through the pelting rain. Now they shivered, drenched as if under a constant waterfall.

“When will this end?” quivered Glavino.

“I know not.”

They found a thickly forested area, where, like before, the rain failed to reach the ground in heavy pellets. There they rested for a while.

“I hope this rain ends soon,” whispered Glavino.

“As do my visions.”

“You have been getting them too?”

“Yes.”

To keep his mind away from evil beasts, Berin told tales to Glavino of the illustrious Ouro gold fields.

“I remember my mother telling me this story,’ Berin whispered to Glavino as they travelled down a manmade embankment when the rains finally ceased, ‘that one fellow named Aureo was travelling to Ouro and stopped near a river. He thought he saw gold at the bottom of the river, and because of the depths, he constructed a dam. When the water had moved on downstream, he waded into the mud and began digging. Aureo’s mind was so fixated on discovering gold he noticed not the sound of the dam breaking under the weight of the water. He was swept away by the river, never to be heard of again.”

The two men’s thoughts were never far from misfortune. As they travelled south, they found many strange piles of bones. Berin had not the slightest idea what they were. Perhaps they were human bones, though their shape was not of human bones. In fact, Berin wondered if the bones had been gnawed, giving them their peculiar shape.

That night as they bunked under an odd-shaped tree, where the trunk widened at head height before thinning where the branches grew horizontally, Berin thought he heard a blood-curdling scream from afar.

“Did you hear a noise in the night?” he asked Glavino the next morning.

“No, I slept soundly. I was exhausted.”

“Hmm.”

“What noise?”

“I thought I heard…never mind.”

“What?”

“A beast scream?”

“Nonsense. It is dead.”

As they neared the gold fields, the landscape changed. It altered from mountains of forest to a mountain strictly of rocks, again. They retreated from the mountains, preferring to walk in the plains.

“Much rather walk in grass than on rock,” said Glavino.

Berin agreed.

“My feet are aching.”

As the sun reached its peak in the sky, they saw in the distance a wooden house, alone amongst the grassy terrain.

“Who lives there?” asked Glavino.

“I wonder. Let us seek.”

As they approached the house, it seemed deserted. There was no evidence to suggest anyone resided there for at least a lunar cycle. The grass surrounding the cabin was up to their knees, and strange plants grew around the edges of the wooden planks. Berin knocked on the door, using the common welcoming rhythm of three short, three long and three short. There was no sound from inside.

“How I would love to smash inside and get a proper night’s sleep tonight!”

“Agreed.”

“Do you think anyone lives here?”

“No.”

“Shall I pry open the door?”

A voice suddenly spoke from behind them in an uncommon tongue.

“Ah!” both of them cried, startled to see a young man behind them carrying a dead animal over his shoulder.

“Goiim?” continued the man, his bushy eyebrows angled in a slight frown. Berin shook his head. He knew the man was trying to determine which language in which to converse.

“Presa?” was the next language, but again Berin shook his head.

“Akola?” Glavino responded in the common trade tongue that everyone was taught from an early age. The young man nodded, his free hand wiping his blonde-tinged fringe away from his large forehead. He wore a grin from ear to ear.

 “What are you doing in these parts?” asked the man.

Berin did not want to reveal their true mission to a stranger, so he rapidly replied before Glavino, in all his honesty, explained their purpose.

“We are heading for the gold fields.”

“The gold fields? Bah, strange idea that. You know you will never return? They say a strange beast guards the gate to the gold fields.”

“A strange beast?” exclaimed Glavino.

“That is correct, a foul beast. Two, actually, a male and female,” replied the man.

“Have you ever seen these beasts?” asked Berin.

“Not exactly, no, but I have heard their cries in the night.”

“I heard one last night. It was the same sound made by another creature we encountered.”

The young man pointed to Glavino. “Did you hear it as well?”

“No,’ he replied. ‘Only the other night before we were attacked.”

“You were attacked?”

“Yes.”

The young man gazed them up and down. Berin assumed it was to find scars.

Perhaps he is sizing us.

He was a tall man, wiry, but it was clear he was strong. The sinews burst forth out of his skin. He carried something else, apart from the dead animal, over his other shoulder, a bag and rope of sorts, with something bulky inside. His face, slightly like that of Rini when he was a baby, showed no signs of fear, only the look like Juolo whenever she hosted visitors.

“Did you see the beast?” he asked.

“Partly.” Berin and Glavino described the beast as best they could from their memory and their nightmares. Berin wondered if their perception of the beast had altered.

“And then we threw fire at it, trapping it in the cave tent,” finalised Berin.

The young man lowered his bushy eyebrows. He stroked his stubble, which was sure to be a few veros old.

“Must have been the male. Last night I heard the female, far worse and cruel than before.”

“She may have found her mate and discovered what we have done,” Berin suggested.

“Yes, perhaps,’ said the young man. ‘What are your names, beast-killing strangers?”

Berin and Glavino introduced themselves.

“And what is your name?” Berin asked.

“I am Grasio, son of Internilano.”

“Greetings,’ said the two travellers. ‘I know not my father. Glavino, what is the name of your father?”

“Orino.”

They shook fists the traditional manner of the Goiim.

“So, you are not really here for gold, are you?” Grasio asked.

Berin and Glavino looked at each other. Berin’s lower jawline took an odd shape, his lower lip curling inside his upper teeth. Could trust be bestowed upon Grasio? Finally Berin mustered the courage as one musters cattle, with trepidation inside but thrusting ahead with bravado nevertheless.

“We are looking for my son.”

“Well, why did you not say?”

“We could not trust you.”

“And you can now?”

“Perhaps,’ said Berin. ‘We were wondering if you could assist.”

“Do you know to where your son ran away?”

“No, no,” said Glavino.

Berin piped in, “He was taken and sold to a merchant who lives beyond the Ouro, beyond the gold fields.”

“That is a travesty!’ exclaimed Grasio. ‘I will be glad to assist you. In fact, I will take you beyond the gold fields.”

“You will?” Glavino blurted.

“Of course. But we cannot pass through the Ouro, no. The female beast will be rampaging, searching for the murderers of her mate. No, we must travel west. We must cross the desert. It will take some time, as we will have to cross to Oda, then on to Kraik’s Ettel past the River of Danby. From there we will pass Skarbor and between the Aig and Dag Mountains via the Haut Passage. Then we will nearly be at the finish with just Ignal and then Hundred Ingas House. There we can determine the location of your son!”

Berin’s brain muddled over the many names Grasio was blurting. Each sounded familiar, perhaps from stories of old. But Berin had travelled to so many towns and cities and mountains thus far that all the names sounded the same. For all he knew Grasio could have been making up the names. Berin did not care. There was hope to finding his son.

“Come inside, we must rest this afternoon and tonight before we make preparations to cross the desert. You look exhausted. Come, I have some bedding. You shall both enjoy the comfort and hospitality of Grasio!”

The two entered and sat down, drooping their shoulders from their travels. Grasio began skinning the animal with ease. Neither Berin nor Glavino had seen it before. Grasio began preparing a meal, all the while telling tales aplenty. It was clear he lived alone; a hermit with little company.

Much like Glavino, I wonder.

He seemed to relish conversation, though. And talk he did.

“This animal is a puntina.”

“What does it do?”

“Do?”

“I mean, what it is like?”

“I am not sure I understand the question. It is a jumping animal.”

“But it looks a little like a bird. Only, without feathers.”

“That it does. It cannot fly. It only jumps.”

“What does it eat?”

“Small rodents, leaves, ants, I suspect.”

“What does it taste like?”

“Why do you not wait a moment and see? It will be ready soon.”

Grasio hurried to the other side of the single room in the cabin.

“Can we trust him?” whispered Glavino.

“I am not sure. He said he could help.”

“Yes, but this is the first person, apart from the old man at Hakkas, who wanted to help us.”

“I know. It seems strange.”

Grasio returned.

“Food is served, my guests.” He gave them each a hunk of meat. The three sat on the ground and chewed the meat. It was warm to Berin’s lips. The meat was tender, each strand pulling away easily from the other.

“Tasty!” cried Glavino.

“I will pack some in the bags for tomorrow evening,” said Grasio.

After their meal, Grasio collected all he could and packed them in their haversacks.

“Right I think that is all. Now, Berin, you can bunker here. And Glavino, you can sleep there.”

The three settled on the matted floor. Berin turned his body. Straw poked up his nostrils. He pulled it away.

Glavino is correct, he thought. How can we trust this man? He drifted off to sleep, his hands between his legs, dreaming of Juolo.

 

The three began their journey westward at first light, Grasio moving at a swift pace, almost too swift for Berin and ultimately too swift for Glavino. He had found them a jibba each in the dusty section of the cabin �" to keep out the cold at night and the heat in the day, he said.

“Where is your jibba?”

“I shall manage without one.”

When the sun had risen to its peak, Berin stopped, his legs aching. His chest heaved in and out. Glavino stopped beside him, crouching over.

“Come on you two, let us keep moving.”

“We need a rest, Grasio,” said Glavino.

“Your speed is too fast.”

Grasio obliged without complaint.

“I forgot. You have both travelled from the north.”

“Tell us, Grasio, have you always lived in that house?” asked Glavino.

“No, only in the most recent years.”

Grasio began weaving a story of his past that had Berin and Glavino listening so intently they hardly noticed the shadows growing long in the late afternoon. Grasio had lived in Lachgelt, as he called it, in Goiim country.

“My father, Internilano, was a carpenter and was quite well known for his ability to fashion any wood into fabulous furniture. Everyone respected him and adored his works.

“One vero, he met a beautiful woman, Keira, and instantly she clutched his heart. He immediately sought marriage. She was not interested, but after many meetings and the natural persuasion of my father, he also clutched her heart. My father instantly began the ritual to marry her.

“Unbeknownst to him, Keira was, how can I say it? She was a lady of the night. When my father began to enquire about wedding her, the local rite performer told him Keira’s occupation. My father confronted her about it, and though she had initially lied to him, she promised she had halted her deeds. My father, though hurt, was still in love, and continued pursuing marriage with her.

“However, as most backward villages tend to be, they threw Internilano and Keira out of the village. The two ran away from Goiim and performed their own marriage not far from where we are now. My father built that house you stayed in overnight. For years they lived there, falling deeper and deeper in love. And I was born in that house.

“Years later we returned to Lachgelt, where most of the village folk had forgotten about the issues of the past. In fact, they seemed to have altered their views. They were more open to some ideas. It is surprising to see what can happen when another generation passes through a place.

“However, I hated living in Lachgelt. It was a village that was growing quickly into a large town, and I could never really be in accord with the fellow children. I was used to being by myself. The woodlands and fields around our house were my kingdom. I remember as a child exploring them all vero long. I concocted stories where I was a king, or a mighty warrior, or a longboat captain. It was where my identity was fashioned, and where it belonged. Lachgelt was foreign to me. It was not that I hated people; it was the style of living that drove me away. I returned here when my parents allowed me to leave, and have lived here since.”

“Do you have many visitors?” asked Berin.

“From time to time I do, mainly travellers such as yourselves. Most are travelling to the Ouro fields, only they are a little lost. And I think when they see my house, they are surprised as there is little human life between Hakkas and the desert. Well, as far as I know I am the only one to reside here, and I have explored the land immensely.”

“The animal you killed today, what was it?” asked Glavino. They were near a river when Grasio had whispered to them to remain silent. He reminded Berin of Erinu, crouching low behind a bush waiting for the right moment to strike. Erinu would like Grasio. Berin was still unsure of the man.

“That was a roduma, a little animal that looks like it would live on land, but actually lives in the water. It builds a house with tunnels that goes under the surface of the water with the main section above water. They are known for using trees and branches to stop the flow of water.

“Like a dambung!” exclaimed Glavino to Berin. It sounded very similar to the animal.

“Or like Aureo!” Berin agreed.

“Who?”

“The man who saw gold at the bottom of the river.”

“Of course!”

“Who?” asked Grasio.

“The man who first found the gold fields.”

“Oh you mean Kubua?”

“Who is Kubua?”

“Kubua built trees along the river to stop the flow because he saw gold at the bottom.”

“Ah, we know him as Aureo in the north. We must be talking about the same man.”

“He was swept away, was he not?”

“Ah, that old rumour!’ said Grasio. ‘No, he returned to Kiriath. They called him Kubua the Illustrious after he told all about the gold he discovered. Soon everyone travelled from near and far to prospect the shiny metal.”

“We thought no person returned from the Ouro fields.”

“That is true. Many do not. But others do. Perhaps your mothers told you this tale to stop you from venturing southwards in pursuit of fortune.”

Grasio stepped between the two, “Well, we should travel to the fringe of the desert before nightfall.” The other two agreed. They repacked their bags, including the dead animal meat, and continued westward. Suddenly the plains and the low-lying heather disappeared before their very eyes, leaving in front of them the Put Desert. The granules of sand shifted beyond the horizon, like stilled waves of the Chingola Sea.

Berin asked Grasio why there was a definitive line where the sand started.

“I have no knowledge. Perhaps the reason why the plains stop and the desert starts has something to do with the underground river.”

“An underground river?”

“Yes, there is rumour of water under the ground. I used to dig around as a child, but never found it. But, like the gold fields tale, this underground river is another tall tale explaining the reason for the sudden and unexpected Put Desert. The reason for that, I think now, is because on the other side of the Put desert is another river, the Danby River. Some people think that for a desert to occur, there has to be another river on this side too.”

“Do you agree?”

“No, I think it is the lack of rain. Somehow the clouds that come from the sea do not bring rain for this area but drop off their rain along the Kiriathain Mountains. No rain clouds ever come from the north; only the east.”

“We experienced the rains in all their glory.”

“True, it would have been rather heavy. What was it like in mountains?”

“Scary.”

The three unpacked on the plains side of the fringe and camped the night. Berin and Glavino fell asleep within minutes of the sun setting over the hot desert. They had eaten local insects Grasio collected throughout the day. Berin was used to eating insects and did not mind them; however, Glavino was not accustomed to the strange Tubal insects and ate them only because his stomach required them. They slept peacefully until Grasio woke Berin to take watch.

“Keep an ear listening for any desert animals that come during the night to seek out prey of the plains,” warned Grasio before he retired to his makeshift bed.

Berin watched Grasio fall asleep. This man was strange, willing to assist them in an instant. He was extremely kind, without a care in the world for himself except food, water and shelter. This nature had Glavino take a liking to him instantly. Now, in the dead of the night, Berin wondered if this man had an ulterior motive. Surely not; he seemed too selfless. But was he too kind? Was there something about Grasio that remained hidden? Berin would spend the coming veros as they crossed the desert wondering this man who joined their journey.

Glavino, on the other hand, warmed to Grasio more and more. It was almost as though he had found a lost brother; a kindred spirit. The two beamed together so brilliantly that by the next morning it was as though they knew each other’s thoughts. When Berin woke Glavino to take the final watch, he allowed these thoughts of Grasio to leave his mind. Aside from an increasingly sore stomach, he slept peacefully, dreaming of the first time he met his wife. Oh, how he longed to have her in his arms again. When he first woke in the morning, he whispered a quiet word to the gods, praying for safety for her.

He had to find her, even if it meant killing for her.