Ch15-4: Promised Reward

“Are ya really from Nefol?”

It was not the same dream he had always had… though during his time at Sleep, he always dreamed very viciously. But this dream was more than just a dream. It was a dream-memory. Something that he thought he had forgotten in a life long ago…. but somehow had returned, time and again, after the last attack on Ceiswyr.

It always started about the same. Sometimes he was walking down a dirt path – it wasn’t even a road. Just something that showed that people had walked there enough to wear away the tall grasses. Or sometimes he was walking over the top of a flower-covered hill under clumps of heavy green trees.

The sun was always bright, shining down over his shoulder. He could remember being hungry – it had been well past lunchtime for him. So it was no surprise that the scent of meat on an open fire had seemed very alluring to him as he walked. He had told his stomach to mind its manners as he approached the small Gathering just on the other side of the rocks. But of course, it never listened.

The wagons were brightly painted, set in a protective circle. Wandering rider rhawns idled in a little blocked off field out behind the circle. He could see the women sitting in the shade as they talked and worked through the day’s catch. The men played games of sport on the far side of the fire, some of the younger men brawling about good naturedly. Children ran criss-cross back and forth across the whole scene, trailing paper streamers as the newest toy.

A wide smile crossed his face. He remembered thinking how pleasant it looked. And he had taken it upon himself to saunter down the path/flowery hill with a spring in his step.

Of course, he had been young and stupid then – so he couldn’t have known on his third Search what he was about to walk into. His face was still smooth, untouched by the woes of time and struggle. He was a good looking youth, and he knew how to use charm to his advantage… which was part of the reason he was chosen to be a Searcher. And why he had so arrogantly believed he was good at it.

“Hallo to the wagons!” he called in a loud, cheerful voice.

The women stopped their work to peer up at his advance. He should have known by the glitter in their eye that he was not welcome there. His Nefolian robes told them everything they needed to know to hate him. But he didn’t catch it. Instead he walked right into the middle of it all.

The men stopped their games. The children stopped their frolics and drew closer to the women. He stood in the middle of it with a ridiculous grin on his face, one hand raised in greeting.

Finally, one of the men spat to the side in disgust, “What does yer kind want around ‘ere, Neffie?”

He had been taken aback by that statement. Never before had he known that there was such a thing as “his kind”. Nor had he ever heard the term “Neffie” before. Undaunted by either of these things, he pressed on with a wider smile. His charm had never failed him. He had faith that it would pull him through here.

“I am a Searcher for the School in the grand City of Nefol. I was passing through your lands and saw your Gathering,” he explained warmly. “I was hoping to ask for a moment of hospitality… and in return, I could tell you all about the wonders of the new City.”

Silence fell over the group, all eyes fixed on him. Some were disgusted. Some were incredulous. Some were just plain hostile. It was at that point that he began to realize that something about this place was different from the other Gatherings he had visited. A feeling of discomfort began to creep over him.

The man strode a few steps forward, face deadly serious as he intoned, “And I’ll be tellin’ ya what ya can be doin’ with yer wonders and yer city. We don’t ‘ave any use fer all yer mind-bustin’ talk and yer ways of tha Bane here in the Ka Gathering.”

Some of the other men began to approach him. There was a dark, unshaven look to their faces. And they were a far more raggid, tough group than he could have hoped to take on by himself. Even with his magic on hand. He was, afterall, still a third year.

“Uh… excuse me? I’m afraid that there’s been a misunderstanding here,” he had begun to back away, realizing there was danger in the balled fists of the group standing before him.

“Aye, there be. And you’ll be tha one payin’ fer it.” The man, who seemed to be the leader there, gave a sharp nod.

The rest of the dukes and their curses were on him. No amount of shouting, wheeling or begging saved him from the pain of the repeated blows. And the men of the Ka Gathering certainly knew the finer points of fist fighting. He couldn’t remember how many broken bones came out of that whole thing. Certainly, he had thought he was going to die right there and then. When the world finally fell into a hazy red, then a deep black, it was a blessed moment.

He never knew what they had done with him next. Not even his dream seemed to know what to do with the passage of time in his memory. Maybe they had beat him to a bloody pulp and thrown him in the river. Or maybe face down in the ditch for the roaming animals to scavenge off of. Or they may have hung his battered body upside down from a tree branch.

They were such barbarians. He’d never have put it past them.

It didn’t so much matter what happened during the dark time in his mind as it mattered what he found when he finally woke. Of course, simply waking up was always a good thing to do, too. Regardless of good or bad, he did wake. And he had found himself lying in a sheltered area, under an outcropping of rocks near a wide open field.

He remembered the feeling of the heavy-woven blanket laying over him. And the strange rhawn scent that seem to infest the rough cloth. It was brown, well worn and the last thing he would have chosen to sleep under if he had been given the choice. But he hadn’t. So when he woke up, there it was.

The world was darker from where he could see it between the cracks of stones. Night was coming. And his stomach was still empty and complaining for food. Strangely enough, that was the moment that he had realized that an empty stomach was the worst feeling he was suffering from. Even after being beaten over the head with someone’s wooden shoe.

“Try not ta move too much,” a quiet voice told him.

He was surprised to learn that he was not alone. Of course, he probably should have suspected it upon seeing the blanket. And the fact he was now in shelter under an overhang of rocks. But at the moment, his head hadn’t been all there. So one really couldn’t blame him for the lack of common sense.

His head had turned with a good bit of effort. It took his eyes a moment to make out the small shape there within the deeper shadows of the stone. A girl was sitting there, her hands cupped around a tiny cooking fire. There had been some sort of meal being prepared at the moment, much to the approval of his empty midsection.

And the only thing that he, with all of his youthly charms, could think to say was, “Who are you?”

She didn’t answer right off the bat. Of course she wouldn’t have. The faded colors of her dress and the way that she wore her long white hair singled her out as someone who lived in the Ka Gathering. But he didn’t tell her that. He might have gotten a fist in the face.

“Are ya really from Nefol?” she had said instead.

“Yes… I am. I’m a Searcher from Nefol,” he answered, wondering if he should have owned up to it. But figuring she probably already knew.

“A Searcher? That’s one o’ those folks that go ‘round and kidnap other folks to take back ta tha school there?” The earnestness in her face had been simply chilling to him. How anyone could have believed such a thing about Nefol, his home town, had completely stunned him in those days.

“No… no. Of course not! Nefol doesn’t kidnap people!” he argued quickly. Then with a low groan, he had pushed himself up. “Searchers go out looking for people who have magical ability and the desire to train it in the School. But we don’t take people away from their home against their will.”

“That’s not what Pa always told us.”

“Is that so?”

The girl nodded, folding back a few leaves that had been wrapped around the meat to help it cook. She checked the food momentarily before seeming to decide it was good enough to eat. Then she put the food on a plate for him and passed it over the fire into his waiting hands.

He hadn’t even thought to thank her. He was just so unbelievably hungry at the moment. He hadn’t thought to think that maybe there wasn’t a lot of food there to begin with as he downed the meat and leaves, using his fingers to pick it all apart and shove it in his mouth.

All that time, the girl had been watching. When he looked up at her again, he realized that she wasn’t as young as he had first thought. In fact, she might even have been a little older than he was.

“What…?” He gave her a sheepish grin as a compliment for the cooking. He never could remember what it had tasted like. But he did know that it had been so good after having nothing to eat for so long.

“I was jus’ thinkin’ that men, no matter where they come from, all act tha same,” she said with finality.

That statement had been so far out of the blue that he had actually stopped eating for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“What ‘appened to the legendary manners of tha Apprentices of Nefol?” she asked with a slightly teasing voice.

“Sorry… when hunger calls. You know?” he gave her his best, winning grin.

“Mmm-hum…” When she smiled in return, he knew he had earned himself some ground.

He forced himself to finish the meal before he began further conversation. Since his lack of manners had already been noted, he licked his fingers clean with little show of shame. “So… did you help me out?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“Cuz,” she wasn’t giving him much to go on.

“I know I’m terribly good looking. But there has to be more than just that?” he flashed another winning smile.

“It helps?”

He laughed, deciding to take another route to information. “I was sure that I’d at least have a few fractured bones after that. What happened?”

The girl had pondered a moment. Then she began to prod at the fire in discomfort. He had some idea why. It was obvious to him, as a Searcher, that this girl was a Healer of some sort.

“You healed me… didn’t you?” he had decided to put her on the spot as hard as he could. Since she didn’t seem to want to answer any other way.

Even if she hadn’t said a word, the shocked look on her face was enough to prove his theory correct. Her green eyes looked terrified, “How did ya know?!”

“It’s my job to recognize talent. That’s why I’m a Searcher,” he told her with a wave of his hand. “What’s wrong? Why are you so afraid? Being a Healer isn’t a ba–?”

“SHHH!” she cut him off with a sharp hiss, looking in every direction at once. “Don’t say that aloud! Don’t say that again… EVER… or I’ll cut yer tongue out!”

He had remembered thinking at that moment that the girl had inherited some of the finer points of her Gathering. Instead of arguing the matter, he had just nodded. Even though he was puzzled. “I’m… sorry. Forgive me. I don’t understand why…”

“Of course not. Yer a Neffie,” she snapped back as if that said it all.

Things began to get jumbled up in his dream about that point. As if fast forwarding through things that held little importance. How the girl explained to him about the Bane. And how her people believe that Nefol was spreading it through their unnatural practices of magic. How he was lucky to be alive, coming straight into their Gathering bearing the robes of the Bane-spreaders. Things that he would come to know very well later in time… but that were completely unknown to him up until that moment.

But then, there was also the fact that she, herself was a magic user. A Healer. One who had the taint of the Bane running through her… but could, confusingly enough, use it to heal the wounds of others.

He had remembered thinking she was certainly a conflicted, though attractive girl. That a day in the city would have done her some good.

Then the dream leveled out again, stopping on the high point of the whole conversation. They had talked about things for a while before he finally came back to his original question. And he asked her name one more time.

This time she answered with a direct look into his face, “JouKa.”

The name echoed forward through time, off the hazy edges of his dreams. A name nearly forgotten, but found by chance again. Just as Lord Zeromus had told him, not long ago, that JouKa, the very same from his memories, was in fact still alive.

This time, there was no mistaking it. He wanted her.

This was the part of the dream that went off in crazy directions. Sometimes they just sat and talked away the night. Sometimes they flew into a passionate bout of kissing and mangling on the far side of the campfire. Sometimes they made their plans to run away from it all together – both Nefol and the Gathering.

Of course, it probably didn’t happen like that – he couldn’t quite remember what really had happened. But that was the lovely thing about dreams. They were what you hoped them to be.

The images began to fade from behind his eyes as awareness seeped into his mind. He didn’t need to see to know that the Sleep was over. He was being Called once more. Dreams and memories would have to wait until the next time.

His body was stiff as he stepped from the chamber into the sifting shadows that waited. His dark eyes lifted a moment before he gave a low bow. “Lord Zeromus… I am at your command.”

“Very good, KoGuRai,” the distant voice sounded from the pulse of darkness above. “It would seem that LuShi has left Ceiswyr. He travels alone. This would be an optimal time for us to make our move. I will trust his capture to you.”

“It would be my pleasure,” a sickly smile slid over KoGuRai’s face as he straightened. The boy Sygnus had made a mockery of him and dealt him quite a blow during their last meeting. Time for talking was now over. This time, he would deliver LuShi to his Master and earn his ultimate, promised reward from Lord Zeromus for the service.

JouKa…