Incarnation: Wandering Stars Volume One (9 page)

The low screech of an animal brought him out of his thoughts and reminded him that he needed to keep moving.  He
began
walking again
and heard
the same sound from a different direction this time.

Mating call?

When he heard a third ca
ll from yet another direction,
his
hand tightened around the walking stick he’d acquired only days after leaving
Sedekiyr
.

Hunting party!

Glancing around, he searched for shelter—a tree to climb, a
ravine to cross.
  Unfortunately, he was surrounded by nothing but knee-high grasses and the occasional tall bush.
  The nearest trees were several minutes run from where he stood.

Where are they?

From what he’d seen in the last few weeks
, predatory pack animals were usually larger than knee-high.  So he was immediately suspicious of the surrounding bushes.  To the north, the land dropped into a wide clearin
g free of bushes or any tall
vegetation.  He began to run without another thought.

Instantly, other screeches sounded from multiple directions behind him, clearly audible above the
swish of the wet grasses slapping at his legs as he ran. 
He changed his grip on
his
walking stick and was now greatly relieved to have something that could be used as a weapon.

Descending the hill at a rapid pace, he reached the flat land within seconds and began hacking his way through the waist-high grass.  Only a few strides away from the shallower vegetation, Enoch
flinched
when a
creature, larger than himself,
rose into view
. 
Instinctively,
he
swung his walking stick.

The
creature
quickly dodged to the side and
swung
something in retaliation
.

Enoch caught the blow on the side of his head and his vision went black.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying face-down in the grass, hands tied behind his back.  His head throbbed with pain and he could feel something wet covering the side of his head and shoulders.

“
Luh, Luh. 
Wu
-
s
e
lema
el muhadis
a
ru
shida
,”
one of
his attackers stated emphatically.

Enoch couldn’t see anything but dirt and the thick roots of some grass stalks.
  His initial confusion was just beginning to dissipate as he considered the possibility that these animals were, in fact, human.

“
Nuhana sehwutha ehchuda
wu-s
e
lema
the
i
la
K
adim W
u
-Ehuda
.
 
Wu-s
e
lema
sehwutha dakulu leuna un
g
a theila
f
alya
,” someone said.

“
Nah
ma,
nah
ma.  Ikthier
wu-s
e
lema
hatda
,” another replied.

S
omething
strong clamped his arm and pulled Enoch painfully to his feet.  His shoulder threatened to rip from its socket and
,
for a moment, the pain in his head was forgotten.
  Enoch stifled a scream, trying his best to be compliant and somehow survive what
ever
was about to happen to him.

For the first time, Enoch now saw his attackers
face to face
—people of the
Kahyin
tribe
.  They were
all nearly a full head taller than he,
with skin
much
darker than his own.
  Their size and muscular forms were made more intimidating by the
disturbing
animal skins they wore.  The empty skull and
jagged teeth
of some reptilian creature protected their heads
and hung down in front of their faces.  Across their shoulders and backs they wor
e
t
hick
, mottled
hide
s
,
embedded
with rows of spines
. 
The rest of their bodies were naked
,
and they showed no hint of shame about it.  In their hands they each carried a short wooden club with half of its length covered by the
tail
-
skin of the same creature
—tiny, dull spines that grew tighter and shorter until they ended at a
bulbous
,
bludgeoning instrument
.  Judging by the way it swung from the men’s grasp, it
appeared to have the
weight
of stone
.

Enoch presumed that he had already been on the receiving end of this weapon and would do anything to prevent it from happening again.

“
Siyeruh
,” one of the
men said, nodding his head to the north.

Looking into the man’s eyes, which were almost black, Enoch understood exactly what to do, even though he didn’t understand their language.  With his hands fastened behind him, he began to carefully make his way through the grass.

One of the men ran ahead and Enoch paused to see what he was doing.  This only provok
ed
another man to jab his weapon into Enoch’s back.

“Siyeruh,”
the man behind
him
repeated.

Enoch saw now that the man in front was leading the way, and picked up his pace to match
him.

Sariel sat
on
one of the rocks arra
ng
ed in a circle at the center of the Chatsiyr village.  Across from him sat the e
lder and his brothers, the other senior members of the tribe.  The
pale orange of the setting sun carved out shadows among their stern faces, making them appear even less friendly than
during
their previous visit. 
As was customary, the women of the tribe waited on the men, bringing the evening meal wrapped in a thick, broad leaf, tied into a bundl
e with a long strand of grass.

How quickly things change!

Despite their earlier hostility, the hospitality of the
Chatsiyram
was lavish when one was invited by the elder.  Earlier in the morning
,
from the moment Sariel entered the village, he was treated like a cherished object.  The children ran up to him and began to touch the skin of his arms and legs, wondering at his paleness.  He recognized some of them from their playtime at the nearby stream.  The same
boy,
who
had
originally led him into the village, again took his hand and seemed content to just walk alongside.  Sariel instantly took a liking to the child.

After the children were shooed away, the men casually led Sariel around their village, showing him how things were arranged.  They enjoyed bragging to him about their building skills which were
,
indeed
,
impressive.  Their living structures,
set back from the central meeting area, were also
made entirely from trees and grasses
, but were more
elaborate, with windows and multiple rooms.  The men held back from discussing anything important, but Sariel knew that the time would eventually come.

After a few hours, he was then entrusted to the care of the women where he observed their food gathering responsibilities.  Being herbivores, they foraged in the nearby forests, fields, and riverbanks for anything edible.  Whatever they gathered, they brought back to the village to be prepared later in the evening.

Sariel sat now with the result of this work in his hands, given to him by one of the elder’s other daughters.  N
ormally, the wives
and daughters
would
work together,
with all the females attending to the needs of the patriarch of each immediate family.  But with a guest among them, the
responsibilities of the elder’s
daughters
were
conferred upon
Sariel.
 
It was a
custom that should have excited him.  But there was no sign of Sheyir.  H
e’d felt distracted all day, constantly looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of
her
. 
Now, h
e was beginning to wonder if she had been locked away somewhere, punished for making contact with a stranger before the elder had allowed it.

Sariel
looked methodically from face to face among the crowd that had gathered around them, searching while he
waited for the
men
to initiate the meal.

T
he
elder
began to untie the bundle
.

Sariel momentarily gave up looking
to concentrate on the task at hand, mimicking the actions of the tribe leader.
  The dark green leaf slowly unwound to reveal a moist clump of vegetables
that had been soaked in water, then mashed
.  Sprinkled over the top were small pieces of dried fruits and nuts.

The men dug
their fingers into the paste and lift
ed
it to their mouths.

Sariel watched, then
followed their example
.  W
hen the paste entered his mouth, his tongue exploded with various sensations he’d never experienced
before
. 
In the
E
ternal
R
ealm
,
all things were sustained by the
Spirit
of the Holy One
.  But in the Temporal, other methods had to be devised for maintaining life—food was a necessity here.  Sariel moved the sticky substance around in his mouth to experience it more fully, then swallowed it quickly.  He wasn’t sure if the tastes were pleasurable, but they were vivid.

Looking up, he realized that the seniors of the tribe were staring intently at him
, p
resum
ably
waiting for his approval or disapproval of their food
.  H
e smiled in return and dug his fingers into the clump for another bite.

Without warning,
Sheyir
stepped from
behind
him
and
held out
a cup of liquid
.
  Her
long, black hair caught the last rays of the sun like the shimmering surface of a lake.  Her smooth, young skin was earthen in color, with warm undertones.  Like the rest of the females in the Chatsiyr tribe, her body was clothed in a sleeveless, knee-length covering, expertly woven from plant fibers.

Sariel felt his face flush.
  He quickly reached up and took the drink, moving it immediately to his lips to cover up the expression on his face that must have been obvious to everyone sitting around the circle.  He closed his eyes briefly, trying to compose himself while the cold liquid slid down his throat.  When he was finished, he handed the cup back to Sheyir and nodded with the same dismissive
expression that he’d observed in every male and female interaction throughout the day.  Then he proceeded to take another bite, trying very hard not to notice when Sheyir turned and left the group.

When the moment had passed, Sariel looked up.

The elder and the other men were just finishing their food.  Their faces wore the same expressions.  The movements of their bodies were unchanged.  No one had seemed to notice.

The elder wiped the food from his mouth and beard with the back of his hand, then set down his leaf
which
had been scraped clean.  He proceeded to clear his throat and then wait for the women to remove the remains of the meal.  The women
worked
efficiently
with the commonplace task
and w
hen the men were the only ones left around the
ring of stones
, the elder
turned to Sariel.  The sun
was halfway below the horizon now
and his face was
nearly
lost in the darkness,
with only
his eyes and the upper part of his face
reflecting the orange light.