How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex (29 page)

“Can we not take comfort in what we’ve accomplished since the Payet first bloomed, Master Druiden?” Porrias asked.

Druiden stroked his long white beard. “Of course, good scribe, yet our work is far from complete. We must continue to expand our academies northward to Tyrie and Norelda and even to the untamed trapper outposts on the wilderness’s fringe. We must endeavor to enlighten all people of the Great Confluence’s valley, young Porrias. Yet sometimes, regretfully, we neglect those most in need.”

“Education is the building stone of civilization.”

Druiden’s eyes gleamed. “Well spoken, young man.”

“They’re your noble words, Master Druiden.” Porrias bowed curtly. “Yet, all things change, including our leaders. Do they not?”

“Sadly, this is the way of things, I suppose.”

“Chief Cariak?”

Druiden sighed. “I too regret Cariak has declined to represent the fleets at this year’s Council of Representatives. None doubt Adair will suffer the loss of his wisdom and insight.”

“And experience and leadership.”

“Indeed, yes.”

“Then you agree, Master Druiden?”

“But alas, Cariak feels young ideas are needed at the meetings and he cannot provide such anymore. It is regrettable.”

“Replaced by a Firstmate? Hardly a—”

“Do not judge a man’s capability by his status,” Druiden said, eying the young scribe sternly.

Porrias lowered his eyes. “Still, there are other independent Chiefs or even leaders of fishing conglomerates. There are ill feelings among the guildsmen. I’ve overheard the arguments. The fishermen are clearly divided.”

Druiden waved his hand. “None of this should concern the academy, good Porrias. Cariak was voted by his peers and can rightfully choose his replacement. The elders are well aware of the traditions.”

“Some suspect politics.”

“There is more to the old Chief than meets the eye.”

“Many say Cariak dislikes big companies and their contracts.” Porrias’s voice lowered. “He has openly accused them of servitude.”

“Enough! You have repeated a harsh accusation and one not to be spoken lightly.”

“Possibly, yet you must agree that conglomerates come close.”

Druiden raised his brow.

Porrias strolled to a window and peered westward across a vast river delta, opening southward into the wide expanse of Lake Adair. Below, citizens scurried through Adair’s town square, constructing firepits and erecting podiums. “Why do we celebrate the end of fishing season while the ships still sail, Master Druiden? The ships are not warehoused until just before ice-in.”

“The celebration is tradition, young Porrias. It has been done this way for generations.”

Porrias shook his head. “A waste of time and resources, it seems.”

“Humans must bond. We crave the comfort of ceremony.”

“This time would have been better spent preparing for winter.”

Druiden’s eyes sparkled. “Understanding and wisdom comes with experience, young man. Someday, you’ll understand, good scribe. Someday, you’ll understand.”

**********

The sun settled over Adair’s western ranges, drawing shadows across faded Payet gardens and mature sculpted hedges.

Barrazan sat in the town’s square holding a slice of bread topped with small orange-green eggs. Before him, wild Chakra and fresh fish sizzled above glowing coals, and long tables overflowed with food and drink. Over a central pit, two huge fatty slabs steamed serenely, surrounded by dozens of revelers awaiting a taste of Lake Adair’s rarest delicacy.

Barrazan sniffed the bread and nibbled the roe.

Demprias offered his flask. “Good Jenna should kill the taste.”

Barrazan took the bottle and gulped. He coughed. “Most likely distilled in a trapper’s hole.”

Demprias ogled a young lady strolling through the square. She smiled at Demprias while twisting long, auburn hair. He smirked. “Cariak is no fool, you must agree.”

Barrazan shrugged.

“First, he infuriates the guild by naming a mere fisherman to the Council of Representatives, all while maintaining his hold on the fleet’s best Firstmate; the best Firstmate who is not yet Chief.”

Barrazan took another sip and returned the flask.

“Listen, Barrazan. You’ve always been in good with Cariak and the fleet. You play the game well, my friend. But explain to me how a lowly Firstmate gets appointed representative?”

“Best hold your tongue, shipmate. Does the Jenna speak for you?”

Demprias waved his hand. “I meant no offense, but how much influence does Cariak think you’ll wield at the Council? A Firstmate carries little leverage with our fleet, let alone amongst Tyrie’s most powerful politicians. Do you not agree?”

Barrazan noticed Master Druiden emerge from the crowd followed by a slender, younger man. Druiden’s colorful robe shuffled beneath his woolen coat. Barrazan judged Druiden’s companion to be about Demprias’s age, maybe younger.

Demprias and Barrazan rose to their feet.

Druiden brushed his long beard. “Chief Cariak told me that you two were among those responsible for providing the Kalsh.”

Barrazan bowed. “Cariak is a very modest man, Master Druiden. Without his direction—”

“Cariak is a good man, but he does not bestow complements lightly. He feels you men are among the fleet’s finest crew. Maybe this is one of the many reasons why he chose you, Barrazan, to represent the fishing companies.”

Barrazan and Demprias exchanged glances. “I’m honored, Master scribe, yet I cannot hope to equal Cariak’s wisdom and experience.”

“You will learn… You must learn or face your constituencies’ scorn, good fisherman. This is a risk all representatives face. Yet many never get the opportunity to accomplish great things. You are very fortunate.”

“I’m humbled.”

Druiden smiled. “And now some introductions are in order. This young man is Porrias, one of the brightest young historians in Adair. He will accompany you and me to the meeting and act as scribe.”

Barrazan, Demprias, and Porrias nodded curtly.

Demprias said, “Porrias and I have spoken previously, Master Druiden.”

Porrias’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I do recall... Earlier this year, you were one of the fishermen whom I quizzed about the far reaches of Lake Adair and the Great Southern Lake. You and your comrades were very helpful, and I’m forever grateful. The Great Southern Lake has yet to be mapped with precision. Just a few cycles ago, I was able to—”

 
Druiden gently waved his hand. “Perhaps you two can talk of this some other time. Sometimes young Porrias is a bit too devoted to his work, it appears.” Druiden sighed. “Alas, he reminds me of someone else in his youth.”

Porrias’s chin dropped.

“Then, young representative, we will meet in three days below the Falls of Rhavha at the trail head opposite Kahnor’s ferry docks. Master Carathis has promised Yaakriders and an adequate number of beasts to transport our delegation.”

Barrazan nodded.

Presently, the wizened scholar’s eyes appeared lost in deepest memory. “Many seasons have passed since I’ve looked forward to a trip to Tyrie by Yaak. I fear, before long, my old bones will be unable to make this trip.” He sighed. “Then it will be up to young leaders like you, Barrazan, to fill the void.”

Druiden bowed and turned toward the square. Porrias bid the fishermen farewell and followed dutifully.

Demprias glanced at a passing maiden and took another slug of Jenna. He coughed. “Trapper’s swill...” He emptied the flask on the ground.

Barrazan laughed.

**********

The party continued as bright Alberon peeked above the eastern ranges. Druiden watched the revelry and tapped his feet to the music.

Abruptly, Druiden rose. He strolled to the square’s center and raised his arms. The dancers and musicians took notice and put down their instruments. And a hush swept through the crowd.

Druiden stepped upon a high, wooden podium. “Good citizens of Adair,” he began. “We should all thank Chief Cariak and his crew for the Kalsh. May they bring us prosperity and good fortune.”

Hoots and claps resonated through the crowd. Some near Barrazan and Demprias patted the fishermen’s shoulder and shook their hands.

“And, as most of you know, they sacrificed some of their profits so we may all partake in this feast.” He turned to Adair’s merchants and businessmen. “So keep this in mind when these men ask for lodging or drink in the coming days. They may appreciate your generosity.” The crowd clapped again, and the merchants turned to one another, smiling and nodding.

“We have all been blessed with a bountiful summer and fall. There is plenty of fish to eat and barter. And we have also made progress in medicine and education, which are vital for a growing population. And how our population grows!” Druiden acknowledged two young women carrying delicate bundles. They both smiled and cuddled their infants.

“In a few days, we will travel to Tyrie and represent Adair at this fall’s Council of Representatives. Adair’s delegation will strive to keep trade active between human settlements, so we can assure ourselves a good standard of living. And we must continue to solidify Adair’s position as the intellectual nexus of the Lands of the Confluence.”

Druiden paused. “And we must also prepare for the upcoming winter, because nature itself has sent forth signs that this winter may be more severe than most.” The crowd turned to one another, murmuring.

“Indeed, this has been a good year. But in this year, as in any year, there is a price to pay for our good fortunes. Let us not forget those who have died on the lake and in the wilderness, so that we all may live better lives and fulfill our destinies.”

Druiden raised his arms, and the citizens stood silent with heads bowed. And Druiden heard only crackling fires across the settlement of Adair.

**********

After the fires of celebration had died down and most of the revelers had wandered off to sleep, Barrazan strode alone down Adair's more disfavored avenues under Ellini's waning light. He stopped, gazing upon the sagging eaves of a dwelling he hardly remembered but could never forget; his father long since gone— so say the rumors the locals passed on to Barrazan with great indifference— falling and choking on his own vomit; his fate sealed on some forgotten night, face-down on some muddy, scat-filled street.

Barrazan thought long for this day when he would gather enough courage to return to this spot to confront his tormentor, whether in body or in spirit. In his mind, he screamed:
Representative to the Great Council of Tyrie! What say you now! You, you….
The impact of the words seemed deeper to the fisherman when uttered silently, rather than blurting aloud for all who might happen to overhear, and perhaps judge him a bit deranged. This was his personal tale to bear; it was not meant to be shared with others. Barrazan shook his head.

Fighting the urge to grin, he strode away and down the street.

CHAPTER
 
4 (The Yaakmen of Tyrie)

H
igh, thorny bushes lined the stone pathway, before a log homestead adorned with carved archways and ornate sills, and a stone chimney puffing thick smoke scattering in the breeze. The courtyard lay covered with clusters of thick, flower-bearing plants, a twisted clump of stems and thistles— seasonal flora— once bearing colorful yellow, orange, and purple blossoms yet now barren since summer’s passing. Squat, fruit-bearing trees surrounded the yard; some well pruned, others neglected— all blanketed in a thin layer of snow.

Lenna flung his ax into a tree-stump and wiped his forehead on his coat’s sleeve. He collected an armful of Olaf firewood, pausing before the flower gardens and prickly bushes.

He saw a vision of Xriera in midsummer— her long, flowing, black hair bound by a green scarf atop her delicate head. He recalled how hard she worked pruning the flowers and the great joy they gave her. And the smile! Lenna would never forget the smile that engulfed her face when he returned from the wilds. He could never forget that smile.

Lenna noticed an older man trudging up the road dabbing his forehead with a folded handkerchief. The man halted, breathing heavily.

“Welcome Joda,” Lenna said. “I hope you brought your change purse.”

The man chortled, his eyes scanning the building and grounds.

Lenna kicked open the front door and dropped the firewood inside. “I was expecting you later. I'm afraid I haven’t had time to clean.”

Joda’s smile evaporated. “I understand, good fellow, it must be difficult...”

“Come in.”

Joda ambled up the front walkway still ogling the homestead’s exterior. He stopped beneath the doorway’s arch and ran his hand along its smooth frame. “Built this spring?”

Lenna unbuttoned his coat and nodded politely.

Joda removed his leather hat before strolling inside. A gentle heat radiated from the crackling fireplace opposite the dining area. Joda’s eyes wandered. “Superior workmanship, I see.” He gave the table a rap and then rubbed his knuckles. “There’s nothing more elegant than crafted Sohla.”

“My father is a fine woodworker.”

Joda raised his finger. “Forentis is a true artist, good Yaakrider. His craftsmanship is known throughout the valley, especially amongst our more affluent citizens. I was somewhat surprised that you, his only son, did not follow in his most skillful footsteps. An offer to be Forentis’s apprentice must have been difficult to refuse.”

Lenna glanced around the room indifferently.

Joda smirked. “Well, if truth be told, I sought this homestead because of Forentis’s artistry. I was only too happy to see it up for market. I only regret the circumstances.”

Joda squirmed, eying Lenna guardedly. “I’ll be direct, young man. My daughter will be joined in two cycles to the son of one of my closest business associates. I wish to offer this home as a gift, so the youngsters can have a good start.” Joda pushed closer. “And it won’t harm the relationship with my associate either.”

Lenna stood expressionless.

Joda cleared his throat. “Well, in any case, my wife wishes to stop by tomorrow afternoon, if that schedule pleases you.”

“That should be fine.”

“Then we can discuss a price.”

“I’ll clean up before she arrives.”

“It can’t hurt. You know how women…” Joda shook his head and glanced downward. “Tomorrow then...?”

Lenna nodded and escorted Joda out the door. He returned to the dining room and eased into a chair near the fireplace. Lenna stared deep into the fire’s flames. The glowing embers drew lasting patterns in his eyes, and the Olaf’s earthy scent filled his nostrils and his head.

It was spring in Adair, and bright, blooming flowers lined the city streets. Excitement filled the air as the first of the fishing fleet rounded the far point laden with the season’s first catch. The sun warmed the earth, evaporating the remnants of long winter.

Nearing late afternoon, the ship’s sails were withdrawn and the creaking vessels eased into the docks. Dozens of wagons, pulled by shaggy Zampha, lined the shallow wharf while the crowds hooted and cheered as scores of white-scaled Zariema and gray Quidida were lifted from holds circled by ever-present lakebirds.

“A sign of good fortune for the entire season,” said the old-time sailors, who still followed the fleets, although too feeble to work.

Lenna strode down the dock toward the moored ship. Demprias stood on deck lowering a bucket to the water. He raised the rope, seized the sloshing bucket with both hands, and tossed it across the planks.

Lenna stopped and squatted beside the ship. “How does it feel to be back at what you do best?”

Demprias held his hand above his eyes to shade the sun. “Lenna! What brings you here?”

“Fish, what else? Do you have any?”

“Plenty, but none for you, my friend. I don't like your attitude. You Yaakriders are very arrogant.”

“Then I’ll find another boat. It’s a big lake. I’m sure Tyrie’s merchants won’t care where I get our fish. They all look and smell the same.”

Demprias approached Lenna and slapped his shoulder. “How are you my friend?”

“Fine, and you? I’ve been told that ice still jams the lake. How do you manage it?”

“Some slabs are as big as a house. Yes, they are very hazardous, especially when the wind gales.” Demprias shook his head. “They’ll be around until Alberon’s next cycle. It’s a dangerous time for fishermen, but the fish are shallow until the waters warm and easy to catch. That alone is worth the risk. How long will you be here?”

“Until three days noon. The Yaak will be loaded by then, if the fish is ready.

“Excellent! The spring festival is tonight, and my cousin Azzerian can’t wait to meet you.”

Lenna rolled his eyes. They both laughed.

The recreation hall was alive with dancing and song. Jenna was pouring from hardwood kegs set above each table. A stone fireplace, nestled in building’s center, cradled a large fire. Fresh fish sizzled near the flames, and the sweet smell of Olaf engulfed all present.

Lenna and Demprias, each holding a flask of Jenna, leaned against a table. “There she is,” Demprias said. “Be on your guard! She’s as wild as the winter’s cold.”

Demprias pointed to two young women serving long plates of steaming fish. The first woman was striking— long, curly light brown hair and light blue eyes. And she wore a long white robe tied in front with a wide, red belt. The second woman was short and petite, with dark black hair tied into a fist-sized ball. She wore a light green robe matching the color of her eyes. Both women wore large, yellow flowers in their hair. They giggled and smiled, glancing teasingly toward the two men.

Lenna and Demprias strolled over to the women.

“Azzerian,” Demprias said. “I’d like you to meet my friend from Tyrie, Lenna.

“Lenna, my cousin Azzerian.”

Azzerian gave Lenna a mischievous look. “So this is the brave Yaakman you keep telling us about.” She slipped her hand around Lenna's elbow.

Demprias said, “And this is Azzerian’s friend, Xriera.”

Lenna was captivated by Xriera’s large, green eyes and charming smile. A moment passed before they spoke.

Xriera’s voice was soft and playful. “A Yaakrider... how adventurous.”

“Sometimes, but mostly it’s dull and tedious. And how do you occupy yourself?”

“We...” Azzerian interrupted. “We clean and prepare fish. So you and your beasts can haul them away to Tyrie or wherever.”

Xriera laughed. “Not quite as glamorous as a Yaakman.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I’ve always wanted to ride one of your beasts,” Azzerian said. “Is she near here? Perhaps in the morning we can—”

“For one thing,” Lenna said. “The Beast isn’t mine. No rider owns a Yaak. The Yaak and man are partners. And I’ll most likely be very busy in the morning.”

Azzerian stood wordless. Demprias smiled.

“She didn’t mean to offend you,” Xriera said softly. “It’s just Azzerian, being Azzerian.”

“I took no offense...” Lenna couldn’t help but stare into Xriera’s eyes.

Azzerian smiled and released Lenna's arm. “I think we better leave these two alone,” she said to Demprias. “Or throw a bucket of water on them.” Azzerian laughed playfully, leading Demprias away.

Xriera shook her head. “So, tell me about yourself, Yaakman.”

“I’ve been a Yaakrider for two seasons. My usual routes are to the north, but I come south occasionally to see my friend Demprias.”

“My roots are in Norelda,” Xriera said softly. “I’ve been told my birth parents were trappers. I was orphaned when young and have lived as an Adairian since I can remember.”

Xriera gazed into Lenna’s eyes. “What else do you seek, Yaakman?”

Lenna stood silent.

Long after the party was over, Lenna and Xriera strolled hand in hand to Lake Adair’s shore. And under Alberon’s full brilliance, they kissed.

Lenna returned to Tyrie and worked for several cycles building a homestead. And in early summer returned to Adair where he and Xriera were joined in a simple ceremony under a Sohla tree beside the Great River. And the next morning, he lifted her onto Anderro, and together they rode north to their new home.

Lenna poked the smoldering logs, recalling with great delight how Xriera’s lovely eyes lit up when she first beheld the grounds and furnishings that he and his father had labored so hard to assemble. And the parties she hosted proudly and thoughtfully and always graciously; although Lenna hardly noticed her intimate struggle within her tiny body until the very end. Within the span of thirty cycles, this vibrant young woman had slowed and her energy waned, until finally she withdrew to the confines of their homestead.

The hot mid-summer sun shone dull upon the settlement of Tyrie as Lenna ran like a madman through the busy streets. He threw his pack against the steps and burst through the front door of the Academy of Healing. Two Healers cast their eyes downward as he jogged down the long corridor.

Lenna hesitated before the door of the Chief Healer. He inhaled deeply then entered.

A frail, bald man in a long red robe glanced at Lenna. He rose slowly to his feet. “She had been ill for some time— possibly before the two of you were joined. I’m aware she had trapper blood— too many generations in isolated communities, I suppose. Her body was returned to the river a cycle past.”

Lenna dropped to his knees.

Lenna began to shiver as evening approached, and his world darkened as the shadows crept slowly along the walls of polished hardwood. He glanced upon a sill beneath the window, now bearing several empty vases— where her orange, green, and red flowers once flourished— realizing finally that this home was built for her, and had somehow absorbed her essence, her kindness, her simple beauty. Although their time together was measured in mere cycles and not years as Lenna had first envisioned, he would carry her forever in his heart— and Lenna desired nothing more; this structure of carved logs and shingled roof would be a constant and painful reminder of a future that was never destined to unfold.

Lenna eased out of his chair, opened a trunk, and filled his pack with clothing. He grabbed a glowing log from the fireplace and placed it gently on a pile of kindling beside the chimney. He seized a chair and smashed a window. A steady stream of nighttime air began to course through the homestead. He slung his pack across his shoulder and strolled to the front doorway, turning briefly for one final look over the smoke filled room. He headed out, leaving the door ajar.