The Scourge (16 page)

A hammer beats a staccato rhythm somewhere down below, and the smoke from a cooking fire reminds me I’m starving. Women chatter, their voices drifting through the trees. They sound like they’re working. I wish I could tell what they’re saying.

“Fennel!” a familiar voice yelps.

“Kora?”

“I’ve been waiting for you! Every day I asked Nerang if you were awake, and every day he said you were still sleeping. Then this morning he finally said I could visit you! I’ve been waiting for you to come out since breakfast.” She takes my hand. “You look like you smeared berries all over your face, but you don’t look as much like a
runa
anymore.”

I laugh. “Good . . . I think. How long have I been here?”

Kora considers. “Three sleeps, maybe?”
Three days!
Fear for Peree washes over me again. “Will you skip with me now?”

“I think I should take things slow. Walk with me instead?”

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“To Nerang. Do you know where he is?”

“I think he’s with your friend.”

“Take me to him?”

“Sure, let’s use the ropes.” She tugs me forward and I tense, expecting the movement to hurt my ribs, but it doesn’t.

“The ropes?” I ask.

“To get down.”

I don’t know “the ropes,” but I’m relieved we’re going down. I’m not at all comfortable up here. I stiffen every time a branch creaks or the trees sway. Kora still holds my hand, but I feel around for something else to hold onto. Another tree branch sits waist-high above the walkway, forming a barrier. I run my other hand along it gratefully. We pass a shelter, and I hear a woman singing inside.

“Does your family live in the trees, or on the ground?” I ask Kora.

“The ground,” she says, as if that should be obvious. “My brother Darel’s only four, he isn’t old enough to live in the trees yet. It’s not safe for the little ones—they can fall.”

Her tone makes it clear she doesn’t consider herself part of any group that could do something so careless. I smile to myself, but wonder how dangerous the possibility of a fall is, compared to the constant threat of the Scourge.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Six. Mama made me a new doll for my birthday. I named her Bega, because she’s beautiful. Do you want to meet her?”

I wasn’t sure if she meant her Mama or her doll. “I’d love to, after I talk to my friend. I want you to meet him, too.”

“He’s not awake yet.”

I frown. “He’s not?”

“He was hurt really bad. Nerang’s been with him even more than with you. Mama said your friend’s lucky the men found him when they did.” Kora lets go of my hand. “We’re here—ready to go down?”

“What do I do?”

“Hold the ropes with your hands. Step on the board. Don’t let go.” She sounds like she’s repeating directives she’s heard many times before.

I reach out and grab two ropes Kora is holding for me. “What will happen when I step on the board?”

“The rock will go up, and you’ll go down,” she says. I must have looked less than enthusiastic, because she added, “Don't worry, I’ll be right next to you.”

Okay, if a six-year-old can do this, so can I. My feet find the board and I step onto it, hands trembling. I begin to fall, but falling isn’t as quick or terrifying as I thought it would be.

“See?” Kora says when we reach the ground. “It’s not scary.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” I agree, but I’m still happy to be standing on the earth again.

“Watch out, here comes the rock.”

I jump back, and hear a thud as the weight that provided my controlled descent crashes to the ground. I can feel the impact in my feet. Overall, the platform ride with Nerang seemed a lot safer.

Kora takes my hand again, but we don’t get far.

“Hello . . . where are you taking our guest?” a woman says. I don’t recognize her voice, but she sounds friendly.

“To Nerang.”

“Your mother’s looking for you. Why don’t you find her and tell her where you are? Then you can go to Nerang,” the woman says.

“Okay,” Kora says. “I’ll be right back!”

“I hope I haven’t caused trouble with her family,” I say, listening to her small feet slap against the ground as she runs off.

“We don’t have many strangers here, it’s true. But Nerang felt you could be trusted, and his opinion goes a long way with the people.”

“I’m Fennel.” I hold out my hand.

She shakes it. “My name is Kadee. How are you feeling?”

“Very well. You’re lucky to have Nerang as a healer.” I say, remembering what Kora called him.

“Yes, he’s very gifted. Every family in the village owes him at least one life.” She pauses. “When you’re ready, the
anuna
would like to talk with you. We have many questions.”

“What’s the
anuna
?”

“The people. That’s what we call ourselves in Koolkuna.”

“Can I go to my friend first?” I have questions for the people, too, but Peree is my first priority.

“Of course. Ask Kora to bring you to the
allawah,
the gathering place, afterward. You must be hungry. We’ll eat, and we’ll talk.”

Kora arrives breathlessly back at my side. “I told Mama I’m taking you to Nerang . . . are you ready?”

Kadee laughs. “I’ll see you soon.”

I say good-bye, and Kora leads me on through Koolkuna. Deciphering the layout of the village is surprisingly easy, thanks to Kora’s ceaseless commentary. Koolkuna’s central clearing is roughly circular, like ours at home. There are work places: a spacious cooking shelter with two large fire pits for boiling water and preparing meals, a place where the launderers clean and mend the clothes, a workshop for the builders—the clattering coming from inside gave me a clue on that one—and a large storage shelter where food and supplies are kept. The gathering place Kadee mentioned is an enormous rectangular shelter used for meetings and feasts, large enough to fit the whole community.

“From the trees,” Kora says, “the village looks like a face.” She draws a circle around my palm with her finger, then jabs inside it. “The kitchen and laundry for eyes, the workshop for a nose, and the
allawah
is a mouth.” I chuckle. Only a child would notice that.

The arrangement of homes in Koolkuna is different, too. Our shelters huddle together around the clearing, but here they range out into the trees, providing more space and privacy for each family, although little security. From the noise of the village, it seems that people are doing exactly what we’d be doing at home—working and talking. We walk by a group of women who were chatting together a moment before. Now they’re whispering. They don’t sound suspicious so much as curious.

“They’re talking about you,” Kora informs me.

“I thought so,” I say, smiling at her honesty. “Tell me, what does
lorinya
mean? I keep hearing that word.”

“It means stranger. That’s what they call you, but I don’t. You’re not a stranger. You’re my friend.”

“Thanks, I can use one right now.”

I’m glad I can’t see their stares. Hearing their whispers is bad enough. I don’t like being the center of attention even among friends, and right now my friends consist of exactly one six-year-old girl.

We skirt the bustling center of the village, making our way to a quieter spot. The light is dimmer here, as if we’re under a thick awning of trees. I ask Kora if there’s a fence around the village, or some other kind of barrier, but she says no, clearly wondering why I’d ask such a silly question. As far as I can tell, no one seems a bit concerned about the Scourge.
What kind of place is this?

The scent of Nerang’s strong incense hovers in the air, so I’m not surprised to hear his voice a moment later. “Hello, Kora, Fennel—I’m pleased to see you up and about. How do you feel today?”

“A little tired and sore, but otherwise well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. With rest and a little more time, your body will recover, like the forest after a fire.”

“How’s Peree? Is he awake?”

“He’s resting. You may come in, but use this to cover your mouth and nose.” He places a cloth in my hand. “Burning herbs have strong healing powers for the sick or injured, but they can be overpowering for the rest of us. Remain outside, please, Kora.”

He takes my arm, and a door scrapes open. I quickly understand why I need the cloth; the air that swirls out is cloying. Nerang takes me a few steps inside, and places my hand on what feels like a bed. I feel around until I find Peree’s arm. I kneel beside him.

“He’s so thin,” I whisper. Skeletal is more like it.

“He’s rarely awake long enough to eat, but he has been drinking more, and the infection is gone.”

My fingers take stock of his face. His eyes are closed over his now-prominent cheekbones, and his beard has grown, but his temperature feels normal. His breathing is slow and regular.

Nerang pats my shoulder. “Try not to worry. He
is
improving.”

“What about his leg?” I search for the cloth-covered wound on Peree’s thigh, and swallow hard. A large part of the muscle is missing.

“There was a severe infection,” Nerang says quietly. “I had to remove some of the tissue, to save his life.”

“Will he be able to walk?”

“We must wait and see. It was the only option, young one. If the infection had spread any further, I would have had to remove his entire leg.”

I grasp Peree’s hand again, bringing it to my lips. What if he can’t walk? How will he survive? I should have encouraged him to shoot the tiger. I shouldn’t have distracted him when he was taking aim. I should have taken better care of the wound, kept it cleaner. I shouldn’t have let him come with me to begin with. If I had done even one of those things, Peree would still be whole.

“This is my fault,” I mumble.

“Blaming yourself will not help him heal.”

“What will?”

“Your support, your encouragement, and your wisdom.”

I raise my head. “Wisdom?”

“Is not having the use of a limb so different from not having one’s sight?” Nerang asks. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Your friend may walk again. Much depends on his will power.”

I touch Peree’s face, silently begging him for forgiveness, then Nerang takes me back outside. Suddenly dizzy, I sit down hard and cough as dust floats around me.

Kora sits, too, and pats my face. “Are you all right?”

“She will be,” Nerang assures her.

Her hair, coarse and curly, rubs against my cheek as she nestles into my side. She hands me something, a flower, with velvety, oblong petals. “Tell her a story, Nerang, to help her feel better.”

“Which one should I tell?”

Kora thinks for a moment. “The legend of the flowers?”

“A good choice.” He settles down next to us. “In the time before time, the Creator left the earth to return home to the Sacred Mountain. Before long, all the beautiful flowers that grew around the water holes, in the trees, and in the rocky crevices, began to die. The earth was colorless and barren, the bees were gone, and there was no honey. The people were sad, so they traveled to the Sacred Mountain to plead with the Creator. Everywhere they looked, there was an abundance of flowers, more and more, strewn like rainbows around the camp. They cried that they had lost this, the beauty of the flowers, and the Creator took pity on them. She told them to gather as many armfuls of flowers as they could hold, and to return to earth to sprinkle them on the land. She promised them that the earth would never again be barren.

“The people did as they were instructed. Suddenly the land, the trees, and the rocky crevices were covered with beautiful blooms. And from then on, when the flowers died, the people did not fret, for they remembered the promise that was made to them by the Creator. Always, always, no matter how harsh the summer sun, or how biting the winter wind—the flowers will return.” Nerang pauses. “There’s always hope, young one. Renewal is all around us, every minute of every day. It’s the gift of the Creator.”

I try to look appreciative, but his story hits too close to home, reminding me of Peree’s tales. I want to cry, but now isn’t the time. I need information and a plan, so I’m prepared when Peree wakes. “I met a woman, Kadee, on my way here,” I say. “She asked me to come to the–” I stumble over the word, “
allawah? . . .
after I saw Peree.”

“I’m not surprised. The
anuna
have been chittering about you for days. I imagine they want to find out who you are and where you came from. Kora, will you take her? I must stay with my patient.”

I take his hand. “Thank you, Nerang. I know you’ve done all you can for him.”

“There’s always more to do, young one. Remember what I said. Your friend will need you, when the time comes.”

“Mama!” Kora cries. “This is Fennel.” She presents me proudly.

Someone comes closer. Her voice is barely louder than a whisper when she speaks. “I am Arika.”

“Thank you for allowing Kora to show me around. I have a younger brother, and I know how hard it would be to trust him with a stranger.” I try to smile.

“What’s hard is stopping Kora from doing what she wants.” Arika sounds like she’s smiling, too. “I think she's decided that since she found you, you’re hers now.”

“I'm happy to have a friend,” I say.

“Welcome, Fennel,” Kadee says from somewhere nearby. “Come in.”

Following her voice, I step inside the shelter. The space feels open and airy, as if the roof is high above our heads. There’s a fire lit in the center, where something tantalizing is cooking. Kadee helps me find a spot to sit as others come in, taking seats around the fire. My stomach rumbles as a plate of food is placed in front of me.

“Rabbit stew, with fresh bread,” Kadee says.

I want to attack it, but at home we wait until all are seated with their meals before we eat. From the sounds around me, people are still getting settled. I clench my hands together in my lap.