Chapter 30: The Hut

Berin travels out of town in search of Juolo. How will he remind her of their connection, their love?

The Hut

The scent of lavender filled the air. Berin turned. It was Shaodeng.

“I can sniff you even if you were an ingas away. Why do you rub that plant on you?”

“It is an aphrodisiac for the Shuiku women. How else do you think I have seven wonderful children and another one arriving soon?”

“Seven? That many?”

“Not for the Shuiku. The more children, the more workers you have when they are older.”

“True. Berin turned to Glavino, but he had retreated alongside Rini and Erinu. ‘Where do you suppose these tracks lead to, Shaodeng?”

“I know not, Berin. Perhaps they lead into the wild.”

“I am getting tired of the wild. I want to go home.”

“Where is home, Berin?”

“Wherever my wife is.”

“Are you upset she was intimate with Glavino?”

“She was not intimate with him!”

“How do you know?”

“Glavino told me.”

“Can you trust him? I mean, he kept his relationship with Juolo a secret all these years.”

“I can trust Glavino. He has risked his life to save mine. What right do you have to judge him?”

“I think he puts on the simpleton act.”

“He may not be as eloquent as you, but he has certainly gotten better. He knows more than you.”

“Are you saying he is smarter than me?”

“Shaodeng, he might only know two languages, three if you can count his limited Keturah. But, by golly, he can survive in the wild easily. Can you?”

“I guess not. I do like the comforts of my own home.”

“Exactly. So do not discredit Glavino. He is…”

“Smart, I know. That is what I am suggesting. He uses the dissocial element of his personality to great effect.”

“Be quiet, Shaodeng!”

Shaodeng’s face flinched.

“I am sorry, Shaodeng. I wish we found Juolo so we can leave this abode and return home.”

“You might have the luck of the gods. Here comes the tracker now.”

Shaodeng paused for a moment, listening to the tracker’s message.

“What is he saying?”

“There is a secluded hut amongst a forest up ahead. The tracks lead there.”

“Tell him thank you. He found them in no time.”

The contingency crept as close to the hut as they dared. Berin’s body was right next to a rock behind the hut, close enough to hear the conversations inside the hut.

“All I can hear is the voice of women,” he whispered to Glavino.

“A good sign.”

“Indeed. Shaodeng, come closer. What are they speaking?”

“They are talking about strange men from a distant land.”

“Must be us!”

“Indeed.”

“Is Juolo there?”

“I cannot tell. Perhaps you would recognise her voice long before I hear her being mentioned. What was the name Irinfa called her again?”

“I forget.”

Juolo has to be there.

“Let us storm the hut,” one of the Shuiku men suggested when they crawled back out of earshot.

“Yes, let us take Juolo, if she is there,” said Glavino.

“No,” Berin said.

“What?” exclaimed Glavino.

“Let me try something.”

Berin crept towards the hut, closer than before. As he neared the hut, he stood up.

“What are you doing?” hissed Shaodeng.

Berin began singing an old Orguein song he had converted to the Vergaran tongue. It was a love song, a song the man sings to the woman on their first night of union.

If Juolo is in there, absentminded or not, she is sure to remember this.

Berin sang, louder and louder, until all the women exited the hut, quietly listening to this voice that echoed and resounded through the trees. He reached the crescendo of the song:

“This, my love, I grant to thee. My heart, my soul, my life, for eternity.”

Berin’s mind flashed to that night he first sang to Juolo. Her naked body shivered as he touched her before embracing her with his whole body. A tear dropped from Berin’s eye as he returned to the present.

The women stood silently, as if expecting him to continue. He did not. They looked at one another, eyebrows burrowed. Suddenly they altered their stance and thrust forth angular knives from beneath their clothing.

“They are ready to fight!” yelled Glavino.

Juolo came forth from the hut, a puzzled look on her face, like a child trying to recall a long forgotten memory. She stepped forward, slowly, until she reached near the front of the women. No knife was in her hand. In what seemed an eternity, all stood there, waiting for the first reactions from the other.

Finally Juolo pushed to the front of the women, her mouth open with wonder.

“I think I know the song.”

Berin kept his emotions in check.

“It is the song I hummed to you when we were first married.”

“That may be so. How can I know you are who you say you are?”

“You cannot. There is no proof, apart from our two children. And you can speak Vergaran. The scar on your neck; I caused that. You simply have to trust me.”

One of the women behind Juolo jumped in, saying something in the local Tebah tongue. Shaodeng, being further away, did not hear and could not relay the message. But Berin understood the message soon enough when all the women returned their knives to their resting places. Or so he thought. In their place rose swords from underneath the robes of the women as they stepped in front of Juolo. Berin retreated a few steps, not only from the shock, but also because he was unarmed, aside from a dagger.

“Wait!” called out Juolo.

The women turned slightly to her to listen, whilst keeping an eye on Berin. He held out Juolo’s beaded necklace, the one around his belt.

“Do you remember this necklace?”

Juolo came closer.

“It looks...”

One of the women stepped forward and knocked it out his hand. It bounded to the ground. Juolo picked it up, fingering it between her long fingers.

“Perhaps he is my husband,’ she continued, speaking first in Tebah and repeating again in Vergaran. ‘Yes, I believe so. If I can speak the tongue of this man, then perhaps I come from his land. Perhaps, perhaps I am his.”

“Yes!” responded Berin.

By now the group of Shuiku men, Glavino and the two children were directly behind Berin. Shaodeng relayed the warnings the women were providing Juolo. She ignored them, shifting between them, and came alongside Berin.

“Irinfa will be livid!’ said one of the women. ‘He will hunt you down and find you.”

“Perhaps. I believe this is my real man and I am bound to him forever as one. I know not what Irinfa has done to me. Perhaps I am his wife here. But there is something about this man. I cannot tell what it is.”

And with that, Juolo turned and walked away from the hut. One of the women rushed, sword ready to swing at Berin. Shaodeng stepped in front of Berin, knocking Berin backwards. As Berin regained his step, he turned to look. The woman swung her sword. It sliced into Shaodeng’s neck and his head was removed from his perch. Blood spilled everywhere, especially onto Berin. In no time the Shuiku men unsheathed their swords and attacked the women. Though the women were good soldiers, they were no match for battle-hardened men fighting for a greater cause.

“Take that!”

“Mercy, mercy!”

The Shuiku men quickly disarmed them and sent them fleeing back to Zoar.

“Shall we pursue them?” asked Glavino.

“There is no time,’ said Berin. ‘Irinfa will soon learn of this and come to find us.”

“Agreed.”

The contingency quickly collected extra weapons left by the women and supplies from the hut. Berin knelt beside Shaodeng’s lifeless body. There was no time to bury him.

“Fare thee well, my friend. Thank you for saving me. I will never forget. I need your forgiveness for my angriness. May your soul find its way to the halls of your fathers.”

“We must carry him,” said Nunizhu, the other interpreter.

“We have no time.”

“It is our custom. We cannot leave his body here.”

“What custom?”

“You shall see.”

Berin busied himself with extra weapons, all the while noticing his children were quietly talking with Juolo. He would leave them for a moment. Though her memory was apparently distant, her senses were returning. Perhaps a few memories at a time would return her to normal. For now, their priority was escape. Liberation. Home.