Into the Raging Mountains Read online

  *

  Eyes saw everything. Eyes watched her. Tongues flicked. The scent of worry and fear came from the woman who walked past two of them, concentrating on the tracks in the dampened earth. Even through those powerful emotions, the Lurkers could also smell some small bits of the Older Daughter's presence. With ease and stealth, they shadowed her through the forest floor until she reached the opposite edge of the berrybriers where the tracks ended.

  The woman's face blanked for a moment and then grimaced, mouth moving in questions that were never voiced. Confusion radiated from her, and the edge of a deep, welling sadness.

  *

  Minutely inspecting the almost undisturbed earth as if looking for lice with a nit comb, Tatanya tried to make sense of the markings and the story they presented. Azure's soft leather-soled footprints left a simple and strong pattern on the ground. Her child had come here scampering, without fear or haste.

  There, almost inside the briers themselves, she found a second berrybucket, almost full. Tatanya did not know what had happened here, in this very spot, but unless Azure could fly, something clearly had. Faint impressions led to this spot but did not lead away.

  Where is she?

  Although the trees were nearby, there were no overhanging branches large enough to support a child's weight or within stretching reach of her little one. Tatanya couldn't help feeling that Azure was almost right next to her, so very near, and yet she couldn't see her, couldn't find her. She wanted so badly to yell her daughter's name over and over and to see her little one come running from behind the farthest tree's shade. She wished for all of this to be just a lark, a game, not the reality that it was slowly transforming into, not the reality in which Tatanya had lost her baby girl.

  Tears fell even as she straightened with inner resolve and began to methodically search the unmarked, virgin ground, unblemished with any tracks, soft and receptive to her steps. Not mud, but not solid, hard-packed dirt, the floor of the forest seemed to give a little and then cradled each step she made. Nightfall's arrival was almost upon the land. Soon, her eyes could make out only a little against the vanishing light. And then as the last lights faded from the sky, she saw nothing at all.

  She still searched on.

  The cry of her daughter's name had vanished from the air around the village and the forest's edges. Although from the glade, she could hear the women who now called out to her to return with them to the safety of the village. Ignoring their requests, pleas, and then demands, Tatanya continued to search the forest floor slowly, stepping away from the group of clustered geese who pecked, rattled, and called, and yet did nothing but huddle tighter and tighter.

  *

  After she did not respond to their calls, all the voices faded as the small group of unarmed women lost whatever helpfulness and courage they had. Taking the bucket half full of berries, they ran back down the slight hills and into the village's center. Arriving at the meetinghouse, out of breath, and clearly quite scared, they barged inside the closed doors. All of the faces in the room turned to greet the interruptions. Holding the bucket aloft, the story spilled out in between deep gulps of air.

  “Azure was taken!”

  “And possibly one other child, though we don't know who. Is anyone missing?”

  Another voice chimed in, “Tatanya is gone as well, searching in the dark against the shadow-filled lands for her beautiful girl.”

  “It is all so tragic, so awful.” The talking began to merge together, becoming fright.

  “Who is missing a child?”

  Instant looks of worry and panic filled the faces of every parent in the meeting house's main room. Without waiting for instruction or dismissal, they fled the gathering and ran without pause to their own homes to seek out their own dear children. Not theirs, surely, not theirs.

  All of the children were sought out. All of them were found, all of them except Laylada, Cethel, and Azure.

  With haste lit by fear and foreboding, the villagers who had found their families intact, raced back to the meetinghouse to find out the news. Three children were lost! Not one! Three!

  Conversations were impossible. The rumblings of the terrified people kept any order from forming. Finally, someone with a bit of sense sent a runner to the priest's house. He was the only one who could pull the demoralized and now justly terrorized village together enough to form a cohesive strategy.

  Meanwhile, speculation and bizarre suggestions swirled about the room faster and faster, gaining momentum and implausibility as they traveled. Soon, a wind of gossip and uncertainty became a tornado of fear and frustration. A great storm brewed in the heart of the small village. A mighty, man-made storm that would burst forth and clear the surrounding lands of all suspicion and worry by any means necessary.

  “Set the forest on fire! That will clear them out!”

  Other helpful suggestions were offered in the heat of the moment: “March with bows and knives in a line and push away the predators with fear!”

  “Trap them!”

  “Destroy them! Too much has been lost!”

  Above them all, the chanted refrain, “We will not lose more!” Inflamed, their emotions burned brighter and brighter from the pent-up feeling of living so long besieged, and the dread that they and their families would soon be gone as well.

  Arriving at the site of the uproar, the priest walked in slowly, clad in all the symbols of his rank and authority. Without looking to either side, he began to intone the general prayer that began every Godsday meeting. It was a sacrilegious act to speak those words on any other day. Yet, no one protested his right or his use of divinely given language, the Gods’ Tongue.

  So high had the power of the emotional storm grown, that the significant, purposeful prayer was possibly the only calming, uniting, familiar option that held them together as a community. It drew them together as he walked with no great haste down the center row, as if the noisome, riotous commotion surrounding him was imagined. Repeating the known, simple words, phrase after phrase, he built a bridge of logic across the fires of irrationality.

  By the time he had reached the slightly raised flooring that was the focus of the room whether inhabited by teacher or preacher, only a few shouts were heard individually as the whole body united into the pacifying rhythm of praise and supplication. The feeling of inclusion within the group calmed many fears. Even the most restive finally piped down and waited with the entirety of the people for the directions of the Man of Orders, for the wisdom of the divine.

  Hands folded in front of his chest, the symbols of knowledge and creation's need simply looked back at them for many, many moments. It was quiet so long, several people began to get nervous. Coughing and fidgeting under the glare of a respected man, the crowd waited in the grip of nightfall's darkness for their priest to shed some illuminating light on the calamity that was wreaking havoc within their ordinary lives.

  He did not seem to glare, yet every person present felt scrutinized and examined. Under that stern look, it seemed he could somehow see their every flaw, that they stood naked before his superior knowledge. His lips moved again in prayer, as he guided and harnessed the outpouring of suppressed emotions that roiled and spat from their collective heart.

  Gathering their anger, their fears, and their frustration, the priest led them through a full service, as if it was the day of worship. Only a few became impatient. Most were content to be led down from the precipice where the community's passions had led them. The best decisions for the village's survival had to be reached rationally, thoughtfully, deliberately, considering all the available information and forming a plan.

  At the end of the impromptu service, all attention in the room remained clasped in the prayer-raised hands of the man of cloth. His eyes remained closed even after his words finished the final notes of offering and Circle Present. Lowering his arms, he clenched them in to fists, held in front of his body, forming the shape of an X.

  “Too long have we waited, wondered, and
watched.”

  His voice rose only slightly, “Too long have we been held captive to the desires of the unknown, kept in the darkness of their greed and purpose, our village raided as if we were cattle, to be dealt with as they pleased.”

  “Theft of children ends all restraint. None shall injure a child and live. So it is written and so it shall be done. Whatever lurks in our woods, whatever thinks to prey upon us in the shadows, we declare war upon it! War!”

  Raptly listening, the crowd agreed, nodding as he spoke, and then—Finally! Something to do about the Thief-in-the-Woods! The crowd surged forward in anticipation of being called to service. Eyes gleamed in barely contained eagerness. The villagers were ready to act, ready to find the end of this long, darksome worry that had bound and hushed them within the walls of their own homes, day after unending day. Finally, an end!

  With the entirety of the village devoted to the singular cause, standing united in purpose, it only remained to work out the strategy. Hunters and woodsmen were called to the front of the room. The others parted efficiently to make way. Laying out a general map of the village that normally hung on the far side wall, they clustered around the paper. Marking the sites of disappearances, including lamentably, the last four, they tried to discern a pattern amongst the attacks, a reason for the abductions.

  Many of the disappearances were clustered in the area directly around the Promontory, the towering pile of rocks that jutted out of the forest’s canopy just beyond the boundary of the village, but the woodsmen could not find any meaning in that.

  After much concentration and scattered brusque whispers, the men and women most familiar with the forest's inner life set forward a plan. Rough in its general presentation, it was the action called to balance the endless days of inaction. Finally! Each person at the meeting knew their assigned tasks and a large part of the village would be directly involved. Sunrise would rid them of the threat on their doorstep! It would be borne on their tired shoulders no longer.

  Whatever the enemy was, whether Roach or Rat Thief or foreigner or marauders, the conflict would occur when the village's best were in place and ready to fight. There would be no more of the stealthy attacks in the nightfall's gloom, no more of the creeping around the shadows in furtive movements to grasp what should never be taken, what was never theirs! The children would be returned and the thief would pay for the trespass! This land is ours!

  As they began to file out row by obedient row of eager participants, talk amongst the women turned to other possibilities. It was quickly confirmed that no person in the village proper had seen Roach since she was almost caught more than half of a cycle previous. More than a few women rolled their eyes at the thought that that wretched, skinny, skittish thing could do any harm to anyone.

  *

  Deeper into the woods she went, searching onward. The trees and their inhabitants had sheltered and protected her village for so long, it was hard to think of danger amongst the peace of the nightfall's stillness. Once in a while she would see the swooping wings of a great, white owl, just after it had sped silently from its perch high above and snatched an unlucky meal from its hidey hole. Other than the natural disturbances of hunter and hunted that had occurred from time immemorial, the woman saw no trace of her missing daughter.

  Refusing to give up the last ember of hope sheltered in her heart, doggedly Tatanya bent close to the ground again, seeking for answers, sure of her eventual success. She peered into the darkness lit with the love of a mother's heart. In her hand, a small sapphire glowed, lighting the rough forest path and the pattern of her tracking.

  *

  Two shadows slid after her, sliding effortlessly through the bark strewn covering. Two that soon became four, and then five, glided through the underbrush of the forest floor following the distraught woman. Like the hoary owl and other winged, stealth predators, they would give no sign of their presence until the chosen moment of attack. Else how would they eat?

  *

  Just there, right there! She had found perfection. Untouched by human hands, the overloaded heads of the bright red and purple berries hung perfectly within her reach. Standing on her tiptoes, Azure's fingertips could almost reach the main branch. Almost … Jumping up with strong and sturdy legs, she only succeeded in making the cluster bounce in the air, each swing so close to her grasp.

  Grabbing a stick that had fallen to the base of the nearest tree, the girl returned, certain of her success. Using the length of the branch to pull down the bouncing berry cluster, it was almost too easy to pluck the treasure from the brier. At last! Perfect!

  Turning to her waiting bucket to place her plunder, her heart was so glad to be outside again, to be free. Happy as she was to fill her bucket, the thought of returning to the captivity of the miserable tent, perched in the middle of everyone's view, was painful. The tiny, invigorating taste of forest freedom made the gruel of boring village life all the more burdensome and dreary.

  If only I didn't have to go back there, she thought glumly. If only—still, home is home and I must be getting back to Momma, who might be worried. She probably doesn't even know I am gone. Leaning down, she picked up the almost full bucket, admiring the round ripeness of the perfect berries. Such wonderful pies and jams. They would eat well this nightfall.

  *

  From the ground cover behind her, mud-covered arms reached out and soundlessly took the little girl. Strangely marked bodies moved in coordination, the repetition of a familiar action. Bound and gagged, the child was forced to sleep by the application of a tonic to her nostrils. In a moment, it was done.

  She was taken. Now, they would return. Back into the depths of the woods they easily ran, shouldering her slack body as if it weighed no more than a runty harvest squash. Only the berrybucket remained; it lay on its side, struck slightly by Azure’s foot, spilling its stolen fruits onto the uncaring dirt.

  *

  With eyes slit against the darkness, well aware of the dangers lurking within the cover of the tree-filled land, Cethel lay on the ground and watched them. Take her and go away. He couldn't help but think it; she had been nothing but trouble from the very beginning. Take her far away and keep her from us. His heart was untroubled by the abduction. Mostly, he was just happy they didn't find him.

  Still, he didn't move, just in case there were more of them waiting for signs of life hidden by the trees. He had to be certain of making it clear to the village when he decided to run for it. For Cethel, that moment had not yet arrived.

  *

  So self-assured, so happy to breathe the clean fresh air of the forest's shelter it seemed like she had everything she wanted. Laylada loved growing up in the mountains, near the Gods, close to the ground and the trees and the clear, clean sky. She had never seen a sunfall or a sunrise in her life, just the passing of the orb behind the shadows of the mountainside. The light of the sun's rising would filter over the pale blue and purple sides, showering in beams of warmth against the fleeing nightfall. Filling the earth until it climbed high enough to leap from the edge of the highest mountain and shine forth from its throne in the ether. Waning, it almost seemed to glide gently down into the waiting arms of the rising lands, caught softly by the backs of the far-side mountain range. The light of dying sun's passing lingered then, sometimes quite a while before it truly disappeared from its luminary power into the lulling sleep of nightfall.

  Lost in the beauty of the fading beams and the changing colors of the land and shadows, she did not see Azure leave. Rising from her reverie, Laylada gathered her bucket and thought to return to the village. Only then did she remember her little friend. How long has it been since I have heard her voice? Where is she? Where had she been last?

  Nervousness transformed quickly into a strong sense of agitation. Yet, she did not lose her composure. Leaving her bucket where it was safe, she followed the footprints of the mischievous blue girl, waiting for the sudden yell of “Surprise!” and the heart-racing that would accompany it.


  Knowing about the village's worries about the forest of late, she did not call her friend's name. With some minor difficulty, she followed Azure's path through the berrybriar tunnel and into the seclusion of the forest's edges. Skirting the fading presence of the sun's light, she easily could see the pitter-patter impressions of the little feet.

  Then, the steps backtracked to the near tree and returned. There they vanished. The weight of her friend's body on the softness of the forest's floor was evident in all the places Azure had been. And, so when it was missing, it was also quite obvious. Azure has disappeared! My little friend has been taken! This is bad. So awfully bad. Laylada didn't scream, but blind dread rose in her body, paralyzing her spine and ringing in her ears. The little girl was gone and most likely by whatever had taken Mardint and all the other outlying villagers.

  Erupting like an angry mountain, full panic hit Laylada square in the face. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. She breathed rapidly and searched the surrounding cover. Nothing's there. Certainly no child. Deep, deep loss gathered around her mind, choking her thoughts.

  Guilt and fear warred in Laylada's heart. This is my responsibility, mine! She should never have told Azure she was coming here this day. She had only hoped to cheer the poor thing.

  The little girl was having a very hard time of it, cooped up in a tent with twin boys and her mother. Flowing through her guilt was the knowledge that Azure had suffered, stuck under the noses of so many prying eyes. No privacy would be hard, anyway. But to have to sit in the middle of town, it was too much for anyone to bear. And Azure was different from the other children, different in some ways too hard to mention, too hard to speak, yet obviously apart from her peers. The feeling of being constantly examined and spoken about, that alone would drive a child from the area.