All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (30 page)

Adam called the family together. “This was a long day, an unexpected day, to be sure. I am glad that everyone is accounted for and in good health. As I live and breathe I tell you that I have seen many strange things in my time, but that was not one of them.” He paused to let his words sink in. “That was a dust storm, plain and simple. A ferocious storm, to be sure, but not an omen of worse to come and certainly not a punishment upon us for some misdeed. The Creator gives blessings and the Creator allows trials. Yesterday we were blessed with a good hunt and today we have been tried. The very fact that we are still here means that we have overcome this trial. It has passed from us and it is time to rejoice. Let us thank the Lord for His protection over our lives, and then we shall once again feast on all the fine food that He has provided us.”

That night was a subdued feasting. The food was delicious, especially so after brushing shoulders with disaster. The conversations were quiet and modest. There was no dancing. The wine flowed freely from cup to cup and everyone drank toasts to each other’s good health. The children were put to bed earlier than normal and the adults were taciturn or sat in small groups having whispered conversations. Kole had not much to say. His thoughts lay heavy within his heart and he excused himself at the first opportunity. Unable to sleep inside after the events of the day, he found a shadowy spot away from the firelight and conversations and curled up and feigned sleep.

That night, Kole lay in his blankets thinking about the upcoming reunion with Cain. He had not seen his brother since the day that Cain had killed Abel. That had been over a hundred years ago.

What change in demeanor had a hundred summers wrought upon his appearance, upon his soul? His hunters coming back empty-handed with stories of his brother returned would not sit well, Kole had to think. But no, for whatever reasons, Kole had not identified himself to Irad and his band of muddy men. They had no idea who he was, and Kole found at least a small comfort knowing he had the element of surprise. And there was one other factor in his favor, Kole realized.

If the prophecies that he had made were valid then every citizen of the city would be sleep deprived and starving by the time he arrived. All the more reason to get there in a hurry. He would leave tomorrow morning. Kole had no intention of causing undue suffering to young women and children.

Why then,
he wondered,
did I make those predictions in the first place
He had not meant to; not planned to. The words came out of his mouth, but they had not been his own. He had been as surprised to hear them as anyone. But the words had carried power and warning and Kole had no doubt that they were the Lord’s words, blunt and bitter to human ears. And even if one hardened himself to such threats, the fulfillment of the threat would surely soften even the most stoic of souls. Kole hoped to find a malleable people, changed and ready to repent as a result of the Lord’s chastisement. He drifted off to sleep with bittersweet dreams—visions of his beautiful sister, of his estranged brother, of the two of them together…

The next morning came slowly like a quiet child fearful of waking his parents. As dawn tiptoed through the treetops it whispered its one word litany like a breeze in Kole’s brain. Rise… Rise… He opened his eyes.

The air was warm and filled with the smoke of freshly stirred cookfires. Voices were muted and muffled, and the hush hung sticky and thick in the air. Kole found his father stretching, yawning. He greeted him with a noisy smile.

“Not so loud, Son,” Adam said, smiling back at him. “The day seems hesitant to climb into its proper place.”

“Oh, good,” said Kole, “I thought it was just me.”

“No sense trying to take credit, Kole. I believe it may more properly belong to the fruit wine that was flowing so freely last night.”

“Well, it was a celebration of sorts.”

“Yes? Well, if so, what does that leave us with today?”

“Separation,” stated Kole flatly.

“Still intending on leaving us so soon, my son?”

“I am.”

“Could you not stay for a day or two more? Perhaps build a home-hill of your own so that you have a proper place to return to when the time comes?”

“I have to go, Father. It may be urgent.”

“How so?”

“There were things that I said yesterday to Irad. Words that were not mine, and yet came from my mouth. I had no previous thought to say them, yet they fell from my lips as softly as pears, breaking and bruising and left to lie. If they are indeed in effect, I fear those who live in Cain’s city currently are not completely comfortable. I must go, Father. I feel an unraveling in my gut, as if our family is a rush rug, woven and tenuous, fragile for all its complexity and that there are many loose ends threatening to entangle and strangle us all unless swiftly tied.”

“Would it make things any easier if I were to accompany you?” volunteered Adam. “I am willing.”

“I’m a frayed knot, Father.”

Adam snorted. “That sense of humor will serve you well, my son.” He embraced Kole and whispered in his ear, “Remember, Kole Chay, to choose right when the moment is upon you. Rarely are we given a second opportunity.”

Kole pulled away from his father. “I will, but pray for me.”

Adam nodded.

Kole said his goodbyes to the rest of his family, which given the size of his family took a considerable amount of time. His mother’s farewell was the longest, but although she looked to be on the verge of tears and filled to overflowing with encouragements and cautions, she kept silent, saying nothing. Putting her hands softly on both of his cheeks, she stared into his eyes, searching, then turning away.

Kole picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. As if in afterthought he turned back to Adam.

“Father, you must eat the rest of the three hrak today. Eat the meat and burn everything else that is left. The fat, the entrails, the bones. Leave nothing that might be deemed food for the morning.”

“Son, those animals will feed this family for several weeks. And some meat should be put away for colder weather. We could not possibly finish them tonight, and it would be a waste to burn the fat or the bone marrow. We have many uses for such things and…”

“Father!” Kole said with a new authority in his voice, “I implore you to consider this request. For the sake of the family, it is imperative. The choice of course is yours, but we must do this, Father, or within a week there will be no one left alive in the City of Enoch. Not one.”

Adam stared at his son, remembering him as a youth, climbing trees and giggling, wrestling with his brothers and snuggling on his mother’s lap. This man in front of him was so unlike that awkward, gangly boy who had been so excited to catch his first fish, start his first fire. Adam remembered something then that he had not thought of in many years, something that the Creator had said to him sometime shortly after Kole had been born. “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother…” A boy grows up and becomes a new thing, a man filled with impetuous independence, and leaves his parents behind with nothing but the warm embers of memory. “A man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife…” Adam refused to dwell on the second half of the words the Lord had spoken to him on that day in the garden so long ago. He swallowed a lump of fear in his throat.

“Do not spend another moment dwelling on it, my son,” said Adam. “It shall be done.”

Kole made good time before noon, travelling hard and covering a lot of ground with his long strides. When the sun was at its zenith, he stopped to rest and ate some of the cooked hrak he had brought with him. He trusted that his father would not fail to remember to burn up the remainder of the animals before sunrise. The fate of the inhabitants of Cain’s city, the city of Enoch, depended upon it. Kole looked up at the sun in the sky and wiped the sweat from his brow. A hot day to be sure, but nothing like yesterday morning. What a strange day that had been. Kole had felt like a lump of clay slowly being baked into a brick inside the earth’s oven.

After his noon meal, Kole resumed his journey. He fully expected to reach the city of Enoch before sunset, but two hours later he came to an unexpected delay. A river crossed his path, and it was swollen with water, some sort of run-off from the distant mountains.

The rushing water had overrun the banks and now spanned several hundred cubits across in its current state. Trees and vegetation that usually grew cool and dry along its loamy banks were now submerged to nearly the height of a man. Debris and deadfall roared along in its white-capped frenzy, posing Kole with a serious problem of passage.

He looked up stream and down, hoping to see a shallows or a land bridge that might serve to expedite his crossing, but there was nothing. He could walk a ways along the edge of it, the new bank, hoping to find someplace that afforded a more probable answer, but this would take time and slow him down. Kole felt that it was imperative to reach the city as soon as possible.

Kole laughed to himself when he realized that he was biting his thumbnail while trying to come up with an answer to his dilemma. That was his father’s habit, and Kole had not realized that he had adopted it. He wondered what other unnoticed similarities they shared. He wondered what Adam would do in the same situation he now found himself in, and he suddenly wished he had accepted his father’s offer to accompany him.

Oh well,
Kole thought,
can’t blame the honey for being sticky.
I’ll just have to think my way out of this predicament.
He hefted his pack up further on his shoulder and stared at the water.
It’s too wide to cut down a tree and try to walk across,
he thought.
It’s too deep to wade. Perhaps it thins out further downstream.
But when after a thousand steps the width of the water had not diminished in the least, Kole decided he’d waste more time trying for a better spot to cross than would be beneficial.
I’ll just have to risk it,
he decided.

He found a place where the banks on both sides of the river seemed to slope more gently into the rushing maelstrom. He took off his tunic and the sandals that his mother had recently made for him and tied them securely into his pack. Naked, he stepped into the muddy eddies along the shore and using the submerged trees as support, edged out into the swirling current. He reached from tree to tree, gripping solidly until he found firm footing in the rocky shifting soil beneath his feet.