Chapter 28: Juolo

Finally, Berin and Glavino reach the town where Juolo was taken. Only something stands in their way: memory.

Juolo

The contingency journeyed through the Shuiku cities of Than Hoa and Thimpu, all the while doubling as messengers declaring peace from the Keturah horde throughout the lands. The gleeful recipients gifted them jirds, burrowing rodents common in the semi-arid region.

“Why did they give us these creatures?” wondered Berin out loud.

Glavino tickled under the neck of his newfound pet.

“Because these are well regarded in this part of the world.”

“They are worse than the ferrian!”

Glavino’s smile froze. “Do not say that.”

“Please forgive me. Do I have to keep mine?”

“That would be nasty if you gave yours away.”

“I was not going to give mine away. I was going to let it run free.”

“Run free?”

“Yes, all things should be liberated, should they not?”

“This is different, Berin.”

“How?”

“I know not. Humans should be free. Rodents, well, if he were free, how could I teach him this?”

Glavino raised a piece of fruit above the jird’s head.

“Watch him twirl.”

The jird did a perfect twist.

“Amazing.”

“I can tell you are not.”

“By the tone of my voice?”

“Exactly. Berin, I have an idea. Allow me to keep yours.”

“Deal.”

The messengers traversed the salty plains into the region of Asshur and stayed seven veros in the legendary fortress of Jedda.

“I have heard of this place!” said Berin.

“I only know the word, jedda, in the Akola language.”

“Exactly. It means to never budge on a price. This fortress has never been invaded by an army.”

“Lucky we stopped the Bacana in Shuiku, then!”

“Do you think they would have overrun this fortress?”

“They overran everyone, Berin.”

The Asshurians guided Berin and Glavino around the outlying districts.

“Can you see how earthy the place is?” one of the guides asked in the lingua franca.

“Yes.”

“It is because we have been relatively unscathed by the war.”

“No invading army has entered the territory, unlike the other regions of the known world,” said another, standing broad-shouldered.

“Then you are fortunate,” said Glavino. He was about to mention the sword resheathed when Berin glanced at him.

“Perhaps they know not,” whispered Berin in Vergaran.

“Why not?”

“Can you not see the fear behind their eyes? Something is wrong.”

The group returned towards Jedda. Glavino continued peppering questions, much to the glee of the guides. That was, however, until he asked why they were fearful.

“We are not!”

“Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. I see it in the way you walk. Something is wrong, I can tell.”

“Fine, we will tell you. The lands to the west, Moriah and Irk, have been breached by a combination of Orguein and Kutno forces.”

“When?”

“Around twenty-one moons before tonight.”

Glavino turned to Berin. “Was that before the battle?”

“I suspect so. Veros all meld into one for me.”

“Same. I used to remember well what vero it was. Because we did not keep a tally when we travelled, I can never keep account.”

“Exactly.”

Glavino turned to the guides.

“Never fear, peace is here at last.”

“How?”

Glavino informed them of the battle and the sword of peace.

“Hurrah!” they cried.

“Are you certain the peace reaches here?” wondered Berin out loud.

“How do you mean?” asked the guide.

“We do not know if the peace was only on the battlefield. Can it reach across the entire world?”

“It has to.”

“How do you know?”

“Are you supposing we will be attacked by the Orguein soldiers?”

“Do not forget the Kutno ones as well,” said another guide.

“When did Kutno become involved?” asked Berin.

“They have always been involved. The hierarchy of Kutno supported Labar with supplies from the onset of war. When they saw the Bacana’s success, they entered as a military force late in the conquest.”

“I hope the message of peace reaches the scope of their ears. I do not wish for another battle.”

“Yes, we have seen enough bloodshed for many lifetimes,” said Glavino.

The guides returned them to Jedda, where they retired to a hearty meal.

 “Papa, I am frightened,” said Erinu that evening.

“Frightened of the Orguein and Kutno? Because…”

“No,” Rini interjected.

“Because you do not have to be fearful of them. The peace is for the entire world. The Hawr folk will take good care of the sword and sheath. Nothing untoward will become of them.”

“I am not afraid of that, Papa.”

“What are you frightened of, then?”

“Of losing you.”

Berin wept silently and collected his daughter in his arms. She did not flinch this time.

She is slowly recovering from her ordeal back in Hawr.

In fact, she sought her father’s embrace at every moment, as though seeking a sense of innocence at every opportunity. Perhaps it was her jird, providing her with an outlet of positive emotion, thus restoring her heart.

“I will never leave you again, or Rini for that matter. Both of you are enormously precious to me.”

“But you abandoned us at Porto Cerro.”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

“The other choice meant my death. How good would I be then?”

“True. How did you know we would be safe? That Glavino would take care of us?”

“I did not. I was frightened for you.”

Erinu held her father tighter.

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For doubting that you love us.”

“You have no need to feel sorry. Forgiveness is mine to give. You know, it is you and Rini that give me hope in liberating your mother.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Erinu smiled, the creases deepening across her cheeks as her eyes glistened with the slightest hint of moisture.

Upon hearing the news of the Orguein and Kutno soldiers in Moriah and Irk, the Shuiku men realised the need for haste.

“Who knows if the peace is localised?” said Shaodeng.

“We should have brought the sword with us,” said his colleague, Nunizhu.

“What shall we do, Berin?” asked Glavino.

“We must depart from here.”

Before the sun rose above the horizon, bringing slight warmth to the ever-present frost, the contingency farewelled Jedda and its inhabitants.

“Never fear, Jedda has never been invaded. You will be safe,” said Berin as emotionless as he dared.

“We hope so. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

They entered the tribal territory of Tebah on the third vero, crossing the river Aiguille before embarking on the capital city, Zoar.

From here the contingency split, seeking in earnest the location of Juolo.

“You look weary, Berin. Let us search for your wife.”

“I will never stop until she is found. Do not worry; I have the same fervour as I did when we fought the Bacana.”

He knew not her location, though reunification with her whispered in the breeze.

“Juolo must be close to here.”

“Why?”

“Because no person ventures north from Zoar. The winters are too harsh and the beasts too foul.”

“Like north of Keturah?”

“Yes. There are deadly creatures �" giant snakes, lizards, bears, winged buzzards that devour folk…it is an abyss.”

“How does one know?”

“I overheard it when we stopped in Jedda.”

“I wonder, is it the same land as what lies beyond Keturah?”

“Do not be silly, Glavino. The Gronin Sea separates us from them.”

Surely Juolo is here. Surely.

One vero, Berin and Glavino were purchasing supplies for a journey out into the countryside. One of the Shuiku men had found information of a possible Vergaran servant on one of the farms on the fringe of Zoar. Berin and Glavino decided to venture to the farm, hoping to find Juolo.

“I wonder if she is in a similar role as Rini was �" working on the farm.”

“I think so. Do you think we will need some of this fruit?”

“No, we are only travelling for a vero. No need to overpack.”

“What about these sultry grapes? Oh, Berin, look, mushrooms!”

Turning his head upwards, Berin noticed beyond Glavino’s excitedness the back of a woman’s head across the marketplace. Remaining still, he watched her as she carried about bartering with a seller on the price of a basket of nuts. Berin knew without a doubt it was her. There was no mistaking the scar on the upper left section of her neck, the one he had inflicted on her the vero they met.

“Juolo!” Berin cried as he ran towards her. She did not respond until he reached her and spun her around. Bewildered, she gazed non-compliantly at him, shocked rather than delighted.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Berin stopped. “It is me, Berin, your husband!”

“Husband? You are not my betrothed.”

“Yes, I am! Juolo!”

“My name is not Juolo,” she said with a tepid tone. Her eyes glazed over as she looked into the distance, almost ignoring his confused face.

“What?”

“My name is not...”

“But you are! Glavino!’ Berin cried, turning to his brother-in-kind sprinting towards the pair. ‘This is Juolo, is it not?”

“It is!” Glavino replied, catching his breath.

“But my name is Isla, not Juolo. That is what my husband, my real husband, calls me.”

“Husband?”

“Yes, Irinfa, the pariah of Tebah. I am his wife.”

“No, you are my wife!”

“No, you are wrong.”