The Tower of Il Serrohe (9 page)

“
I threw my short oak spear at the tall, lanky shape I hoped was the Soreye intent on beheading me. The shape spun like a top running down and fell back out of sight.

“
The screams and groans of fighting men counter-pointed by the Soreyes’ bells rose in pitch then shimmered away into silence broken by a flood of smoke reeking of burnt piñon and cedar resin. Its pungency bolted me upright, and I left half of my brown bodysuit hanging in shreds on the thorny bush.

“
A lunging Soreye woman flailed past me screaming, her chorded bells jangling frantically.

“‘
Fire, desertmen, fire!’ She fled down the slope and onto the desert proper, convincing other Soreyes to follow by retreating from the brush. The desert-born were deathly afraid of fire since, according to rumor, many a brushfire on the plains had claimed entire tribes of Soreyes with unmerciful swiftness.

“
Nohmin warriors flew up the slope at me, jostling with Soreyes, trying to get out of each other’s way. I turned and joined the flight through leaping, crackling flames that feasted on the dry piñon and rabbit brush.

“
I singed my hair and, for a horrible moment, my nostrils so burned with the searing air that I couldn’t smell.

“
An old, sharp voice brought the scent of pressed pine needles to my mind’s nose, and called out through the orange smoke.

“‘
Nersite, Nersite.’

“
I responded to my name by spinning in circles and yelling, ‘Niddle-ai! Here, I can’t see you, Niddle-ai!’

“
Out of the foggy haze, a familiar form darted toward me. Finally, at arm’s length the features of old Niddle-ai were clear.

“‘
Come on, boy, you should’ve been the first past the fire line.’

“
He grabbed me and, supporting each other, we waded through the smoke, bushes, and bodies up the ever-steepening slope.”

eighteen

“
Wind coursing through the aspen, high above, brought a faint tinge of burnt piñon and cedar along with the cactus fragrance.

“
Reluctantly, I broke the blessed silence. ‘The wind’s coming off the Seared Meadow, Niddle-ai.’

“
Still lying peacefully on the soft grasses of the mesa, Niddle-ai opened his eyes slightly, inhaled, and sighed. ‘Yes, and there’s a  goat-like scent in that wind. But not too strong. There’s no Soreye near Nohwood for now.’ He closed his eyes again and folded his arms across his chest. Even the hairs of his arms were starting to turn gray.

“
I sat up fighting stiff, sore muscles. Looking out over the tops of aspen and pine trees, I saw the sun moving to the zenith, bathing the Seared Meadow and the flat Il Serrohe Desert in a hot, white haze. There, with blurred edges, were the jagged black lava cliffs of Il Serrohe. No shadows stretched across the Seared Meadow as the defiant arm of the Tower of Il Serrohe thrust like a fist from the extreme eastern point of the cliffs into the sky about a hundred feet.

“
It hadn’t been long since the Soreyes had rebuilt the Tower along those cliffs north of the Place of Homes and the Seared Meadow. It seemed to symbolize their new vigorous aggression: a determination to prevent Nohmin and all the other races of the Valle Abajo from enjoying security and peace.

“
A scent of wild rose broke through the blanket of Niddle-ai’s pine incense and my roasted piñon nut. Coming down a winding path was a small, slender shape that gradually grew into the most beautiful form in Nohwood—Netheraire, my companion since childhood.

“‘
Netheraire, your incense precedes you, preparing my eyes for a change of scenery—’

“‘
Oh hush, silly! You’re an awful mess. You’re almost indecent.’ She giggled musically, but I could see sadness in her eyes. Where are those days when we played in the trees and suffered a thousand mock deaths, painless in the morning sun?

“‘
I got knocked into a thorny bush, and it ripped me to shreds.’

“‘
Well, we can worry about your suit later but those cuts!’

“‘
Nothing a little rose can’t cure with her touch.’

“‘
It’s a good thing you can’t see anything clearly more than five paces away because your “little rose” is a frightful mess.’

“
She carried a stone bowl of spicy liquid cloudy with the wounds of warriors she had already tended. As she knelt down, I could see her face in the sharp reality of matted hair, dirt, and the dried blood on her fingers from patching cuts and gashes.

“‘
Are there any among the missing, Netheraire?’

“‘
By the Nohwood’s grace, no one is dead though Nothead is near death. His family will suffer much in the coming winter if he passes on.’

“‘
By the Wood, he’s got nine children! Why does Narknose allow a family man to—’

“‘
Allow? Surely you joke. This is not a matter for only lifelong warriors. That tower,’ she gestured to the projectile in the distant east, ‘has brought a curse on us. Do they see everything we do here with the eyes of a hawk?’

“‘
That’s not possible! I couldn’t imagine such eyesight.’

“
She went on, ‘Across the emptiness of the Il Serrohe it takes a sharp eye to survive. Perhaps all they need is elevation to see into the Nohwood and watch us.’

“‘
The cliffs of Il Serrohe are enough—that tower is only a vain symbol—y’ow! Your medicine burns!’

“‘
It’s supposed to, silly. Wouldn’t do any good if it didn’t.’

“
I heard a muffled laugh escape Niddle-ai. He sat up gazing to the east. ‘Huh, I can see a figure pacing along the top of that damned tower. Must be checking on the Soreye warriors as they approach.’

“‘
You can see the warriors we fought this morning?’ I asked incredulously.

“‘
Ah, yes, a rather scattered bunch they are. We didn’t let them off lightly. Ah, but look at the haughtiness of their canter!’

“
I always marveled at how Niddle-ai could see such far away things in the perpetual haze that enveloped me only a few paces off. Truly his eyes were sharp as needles surpassing even the hawk and the owl.

“
Netheraire swabbed Niddle-ai gently, said good bye, and the wild rose scent left slowly, absorbed into the air around us.”

nineteen

“
The waning orange light of the setting sun cast flecks of amber on the floor of the forest. Branches that arched above and interlaced in a hopeless tangle provided an almost solid roof against the sky.

“
The tabletop plateau of heavy, imposing cottonwoods, pines, and piñons made a comfortable site for the hundreds of root houses of the Nohmin. Place of Homes. Such a comfort to walk the well-worn paths, listening to the sounds of people living. The approach of evening and the smell of cooking—wood, hot sunflower oil, fried okra, and boiling posole well laced with red chile.

“
But the security that such scents usually conjured was denied by the aching bones of defeat and frustration. What good was a Place of Homes if Nohwood was slowly hacked away from around us?

“
Will we be pushed onto the slopes, forced to claw our way up the cliffs of Tohmay Steeples that cradled the entire southwest corner of Nohwood Mesa, only to live brutally among the flighty Linksmin?

“
They’re cunning but reclusive hunters, keeping to themselves except when trading furs for our chile. But what if we are driven to their Steeples? Would we be able to live in peace in their territory; would our children be safe?

“
My hole, covered by an almost upright, round stone at the base of a middle-aged cottonwood, didn’t seem as inviting as I desired.

“
Pulling back the flagstone, I descended into the dark, tight cavern. My sunflower oil lamp must have burned out. I felt about, grasping a thick, winding root and followed it to my table. Coals glowed beneath the pottery plate in the center of the heavy pine table. Lighting a straw I started to get another jar of oil when I realized that I didn’t want to sit at home alone. The dark dampness of the place didn’t feel inviting. When it was fully glassed-in, it would be better.

“
I came back out and headed to Netheraire’s nearby place.

“
The sun was leaving coral shadows streaking through dim shafts of light that intruded onto our Place of Homes. Netheraire’s root house was small, situated under a young cottonwood, a good fit for her unusually small stature, even for a Nohmin female.  She made my average height seem gigantic.

“
I squeezed through her door, removing the censer from my belt and swung it in front of me allowing my signascent of roasted piñon nut to fill her living chamber. It was dimly lit by one lamp, and the slender roots of the cottonwood left deep shadows as they arched to the peak of the chamber.

“
No one home. She probably had serious wounds to dress. I guess I was lucky to be young and delegated to the rear in battles while the older, more experienced warriors met the tall Soreyes wading through us like herons among ducks.

“
I moved on. The shafts of light were now feeble violet allowing me to barely see my way to the cottonwood of Niddle-ai’s root house.

“
After allowing my signascent to permeate Niddle-ai’s living chamber, I gave up and turned to leave.

“‘
Hey, Nersite, in here,’ came an unusually calm and quiet voice.

“‘
Niddle-ai?’

“‘
Yes, come in. To your right.’

“
I pulled a flaxen curtain aside and entered a small chamber shaped by a spiraling root. Niddle-ai sat cross-legged on a soft carpet of down feathers while a pile of rare bristlecone pine needles burned nearby. The Timeless incense of those needles filled the chamber and my nostrils. I knew nothing but that scent.

“
As I settled down I became as Timeless as the bristlecone pine trees that grew forever on distant granite steeples beyond the far western horizon. What could be hours in the Timeless state may only be a brief moment beyond the reach of the strong incense of the bristlecone pine. Or a moment could be days. Niddle-ai knew the kind of comfort a battle weary body needed. Being Timeless, nothing could be felt except an unchanging state of being. I tried to talk but Timelessness doesn’t allow it, only being—nothing more.”

twenty

“
Rising reluctantly, we moved out to his large stone table, taking seats at the narrow end of its trapezoidal shape. The Timeless incense was a gray heap of spent ash. I placed a pinch of the ash in my waist censer to give me hours of mild comfort as my signascent burned.

“‘
Ow!’ I dropped a small speck of glowing ash on my leg.

“‘
Ah, you’re getting enough burn scars on your left leg to identify yourself clearly as Nohmin.’

“‘
That’s a kind way to say I’ve burned myself silly at least a hundred times since my tenth winter and the initiation into the ranks of the Signascented.’

I really could get tired of his remarks about my troubles.

“
He continued without missing a stroke. ‘And now that you’ve got the scars of a man, when are you going to widen your pallet?’

“‘
I love women almost half as much as you do, which is twice as much as the normal Nohmin. But Niddle-ai, I don’t want to have any woman share my pallet right now.’

“‘
By the Wood, boy, any woman is better than celibacy!’

“‘
I’m not… well, I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life—’

“
He bent toward me and looked through me with Timeless-bright eyes. ‘Do you want to smell wild roses or
taste
them?’

“‘
Now leave Netheraire out of this! We’re friends… since we’ve been kids.’

“‘
Ah, now that’s a beautiful little bundle of warmth. Don’t you ever wonder what she’d be like on your pallet?’

“‘
Well, sure, but—that’s none of your business!’

“‘
I’ll make her
my
business if
you
don’t!’

“‘
Niddle-ai, you’re an old… uh, mature man. She’s a child.’

“‘
Children aren’t shaped like that. If they are, then I’m ready to have an old age nurse move in to bury me before my time.’

“
I leaned back. He was right. She was stunning, and our long-time friendship just wasn’t enough for me, anymore. But how do you widen your pallet for a
friend
? She probably thought of me as nothing more than the little boy who flitted through the trees like a wild wasp.