The Tower of Il Serrohe (11 page)

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
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The Blue Meadow didn’t have a chance to warn us.


With the bright red crest erect on his bald head displaying his excited state, a Soreye leapt from The Narrow. Behind him another appeared. Like an evil oven spitting out fire, flame after flame, they popped out.


We attacked, but only two or three Nohmin could approach The Narrow and reach the single Soreye at its mouth. As the Soreyes leapt out, one moved first to the left, then, when the next leapt, that one darted to the right. It became harder to get near The Narrow since Soreyes were attacking from right and left.


We turned to go back to the north. We had forgotten.


The towering battalion that had chased us entered Blue Meadow. We were surrounded.

“‘
Storm ‘em! Hammer their toes!’ Narknose screamed, almost choking with a sob.


We stopped, standing still and silent.


We surrendered without a word.”

 

 

twenty four

 

 


I could have puked. The odors of goat’s urine, the rotting bodies of our enemies, the Crotalmin, and the friendlier
Càhbahmin’s
dung bit my nose and burned its way down my throat to throb in my stomach.

Of course the goats and none of the clanspeople of the Valle were there, but all had passed along this passageway through the forest leaving smelly evidence behind. Before, it had been a pleasant passage, now these scents rose up to mock our failure.


The darkness of The Narrow seemed so evil and angry, I feared the very trees would crush us, suffocating and swallowing with hardly a belch. Yet I couldn’t believe the trees would tolerate the Soreyes as they herded us along the path.


We were tied together at our waists, four to a group. Our hands tied tightly to our sides and ankles hobbled, allowed footsteps of only two handbreadths. In spite of that, the Soreyes pushed us, forcing us to nearly gallop.


Netheraire was somewhere ahead tied to three other women. I remembered with pain that a cut on her forehead was still bleeding when I last saw her as she was pushed ahead into the yawning mouth of The Narrow.


Amazingly, the Soreyes strode along the path with ease, their spindly bodies flowing sideways, oozing around bends with little effort. Only their close-cropped heads ducked, occasionally, under a low, fat branch or a leaning tree trunk.


The only sounds in the darkness of The Narrow were Soreye bells clanging haughtily. Yet the path did not shrink to bar their passage.”

 

twenty five

 

 


As we came upon the Place of Homes I could hear rustlings and the scrunch of stones sliding in place to seal off root houses.


An extremely foul-smelling Soreye, set off from the others by a solid red headband tightly gripping his scaly forehead, strutted about laughing and spitting. He finally ordered his troops to push us all into a tightly packed group as the Soreyes circled us. He addressed the ground around the short trees.

“‘
I’m Sydewynder, chief of Il Serrohe, and I’ve got ears like a well-tuned bell. The slightest fart can’t escape my notice! You can sulk in your root holes, but it’ll just mean the slicing of one more Nohmin throat for each toll of my bell.’


He motioned to one of his underlings to bring a small brass bell from a brown wool bag. From the folds of his robe, the chief Soreye produced a stick with a leather hammer at one end. He struck the bell with it.


It gonged loudly with no beauty to its tone.

“‘
There, that’s the first one, no throat slit. But that’s the only toll you’ll hear without another one of your scum ending up collecting maggots on the ground! Haw, haw, haw!’ His laugh reminded me of a Corvimin greedily stealing corn from one of the lowland fields.


Silence answered.

“‘
Very well, then.’ He passed the hammer to the underling. He turned to look at us hungrily. ‘Bring me that one.’ He pointed to Notherbroh, my young friend. He was no more than four feet from me.


They cut Notherbroh’s waist rope and flung him out in front of Sydewynder. The Soreye leaned over and picked up Notherbroh shaking him like a captured rabbit, raising a stained blade to his throat. He then nodded to his underling to toll the bell.


But before the hammer swung back, Narknose cried out, ‘No, you filthy bastards, no!’


The underling froze and stared at the chief expectantly. The chief looked back at Narknose with a penetrating stare.

“‘
Who in the hell told you to speak?’

Narknose stared at him.

“‘
Well?’

“‘
I am leader of the Nohmin. The ones left here in the Place of Homes are only the old, young, and women who aren’t warriors. But they have just as much guts as any fighting Nohmin. Only on my word will they consider surrendering to a stinking—’

“‘
Shut up, sniveling little creep!’ He turned back and shouted. ‘The bell now tolls!’ He started slowly pressing the blade into Notherbroh’s throat.

“‘
Enough!’ Narknose choked. ‘Come out, give yourselves up. We are lost.’ He hung his head, swallowed and gritted his teeth fighting off hysteria.


Sydewynder threw Notherbroh down on his face, laughed, and pushed his blade back into some hidden recess of his robe.


Slowly, nearly one hundred Nohmin tumbled from the trees, standing stock still where they landed. Over a hundred more emerged from root houses like dazed Ursimin coming out of a deep sleep.


Soreyes spread out and herded everyone over to us. There was much cursing and pushing. Occasionally, a young Nohmin would kick a shin and elicit a few nervous laughs from us, but, generally, it was a grim submission.

“‘
Everyone is to pack their belongings… that is, all you can carry and bid farewell to this hive,’ the chief announced.

“‘
What is this?” Narknose asked, yet his voice revealed he knew.

“‘
Why, you’re all moving.’ The chief swept his gaze across us and added, ‘Moving to the foothills southwest of the Tohmay Steeples. The Nohwood and the Place of Homes are now ours.’

“‘
No! No! We won’t,’ echoed three hundred fifty Nohmin throats.


The foothills south of the Tohmay Steeples were evil with a small but tangled forest and a fierce desert. Few can survive that region much less the likes of us.


Nolah growled, ‘How can we cross the Steeples?’

“‘
You’ll have plenty of time for that. Once we encourage you by spearing anyone that doesn’t climb.’

“‘
And the Linksmin? What of them?’ someone else shouted. ‘They don’t like strangers passing through, but if we live in their hunting territory—’

“‘
That’s your problem!’ the chief roared. ‘Unless you prefer becoming slaves. We need a few scurvy bodies to haul manure—’ His evil smile was too much.

“‘
Slaves, never!’ We chorused.

“‘
Then,’ Sydewynder’s smile disappeared and he added harshly, ‘you’ll find a way to deal with the Steeples and foothills beyond! Pack up or you’ll oil this very ground with your puny bodies!’


We stood about as the unfettered ones filled body packs and unloaded root houses. We were then cut loose from our waist ropes and our arms were freed. The non-warriors were hobbled like us and everyone was burdened with a load of belongings or food stores. It seemed the Soreyes had no desire to enter root houses, probably because their size prevented entry, and they had even less desire to appropriate the nuts, fruits, and grains we mostly subsisted on. Goat turds would be more to their taste.”

 

 

twenty six

 

 


The forest mourned and the sun hid itself as it set when we left the Place of Homes guided by the glaring
Crotalmin
oil lamps of the Soreyes. To think the Soreyes were capable of trapping and reducing the stealthy and dangerous Crotalmin to oil for their lamps gave us all pause.


Meanwhile, I had maneuvered myself, subtly, to within a few handbreadths of Netheraire. By the time we left we were next to each other. Niddle-ai silently fell in step behind me, and we tried to assure each other as we exchanged brief glances when the Soreyes weren’t watching.


The high spirits of the trek through the forest earlier was now a mocking echo foreign to our friend and mother, the Nohwood.


As we glumly trudged on in silence, a few wisps of the signascent of Narknose mingled with cinnamon reached us. That was odd. Why would he—


It struck me the odor of cinnamon was one of alert. It was used as a fanfare to special occasions and events. A call to gather.


Narknose wanted our attention.


Then the cinnamon was replaced by a skunkweed smell causing my nose to itch. Yet it was better than smelling the Soreyes. That reminded me of my censer and I dropped in a few cones of roasted piñon nut to let my fellows know my censer was still hot.


I smelled the signascent of other Nohmin though the strength was weak. No use bringing it to the attention of the Soreyes though they could stand in a pile of dung and hardly be aware of it.


Again, Narknose broke through our answering signascents with skunkweed. Perhaps he referred to the Soreyes since none of us carried cones of manure incense.


Following the skunkweed came the scent of the goat’s head weed. That was a hard one to figure. It was a weed that spread out flat on the ground and had sharp stickers that resembled a goat’s head in appearance.


Another reference to Soreyes since they raised goats?


No, then what could the unpleasant skunkweed odor mean?


A sticker. One didn’t want to step on a goat’s head. Go around it. Jump over it.


Then the scent of pine needles. At first, I thought it was Niddle-ai’s incense. But no, it was mingled with Narknose’s signascent.


Immediately, in fact, mingled with the pine needles, were the scents of cottonwood bark, ash, spruce, aspen... Narknose was trying to say something about trees—the forest.


Skunkweed, goat’s head, the trees of the forest?


I looked up. As I caught myself doing it, I noticed others also looking up. I quickly gazed straight ahead.


Of course! To escape the Soreyes (skunkweed), jump up or avoid them (goat’s head) by taking to the trees, even though we weren’t good climbers, our small size made us quicker than the towering Soreyes.


We were close to The Narrow. Here, the forest was especially thick with branches low to the ground. The younger ones and those with powerful springs in their feet could jump up and disappear. Others could be hoisted up. For a short time in the trees, the Nohmin could move as well with their arms as with their legs. We could free our feet of the hobbles later.


But when would we act?


Then a new smell: the strong odor of
Loopohmin
, the dangerous neighbors with whom we shared the Nohwood. Unmistakable in its musty, gray odor even the Soreyes would notice. Narknose was creating that odor.

“‘
Loopohmin
!’ Someone screamed. A voice disguised but recognizable as Narknose’s.


We all took the hint. ‘
Loopohmin
!
Loopohmin
!
Loopohmin
!’


The Soreyes panicked. They started running right and left on the lookout for sudden attack. The Soreyes were capable of defending against cunning
Loopohmin gangs, but not on the spur of the moment in the confines of the forest with Nohmin prisoners underfoot.


Then again, but in his natural voice, Narknose yelled. ‘Hey! Hey! To the trees, Nohmin!’


We started flinging children and old ones in the air. They literally flew up out of sight, scrambling for the highest branches without disturbing a leaf. It was a challenge for us ground dwellers, but we were motivated!


The Soreye chief caught on. ‘No, you fools! There aren’t
Loopohmin
! That smell is from the Nohmin censers.’


But his men paid scant attention. Unseen
Loopohmin
eyes watched them with hunger, and they couldn’t waste themselves for the sake of puny Nohmin scurrying like scared cockroaches.

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