PART ONE: THE BUSHLAND

Chapter Nine- The Highlands

After Hara was taken by Blanque, there was a fog upon the tribe. Gobi went into reclusion, rarely coming out of his tent. Only Big Moja was ever permitted to go inside and speak with him. Very little was spoken about the duel among the Bushland. Very little was spoken of Bibiji and the Mooncats.

Baubo continued her labour past the expected time and soon began to grow weak and ill. She became very pale and warm, and could barely walk. The priestesses went to Osiris to explain the urgency of the situation. He was gravely concerned and requested the help of the shaman. Upon examination, Wiseherder determined that he should travel to the Highlands to speak with their medicine woman, Gaia. It would be several days before he would return, so he left a large pot of Fur Leaf Tea to soothe her while he was gone. They were to give her a cup for each lowpoint of the sun, and one at the full height of day.

Wiseherder packed his things, and headed for the hills. The Highland people lived past Duel Hill and up into the foothills of Mt. Demon, the fire breathing mountain. He was old friends with their wisewoman, and even had a brief romance with her, long ago. But, the tribes did not often mix, and her father had been a ruthless raiding chief long ago, and was feared throughout the land as a killer and bandit.

Wiseherder knew better than to pursue Gaia’s heart while the old chief held his watch. He lived a long and rough life, eventually killed by his son, Ruk, who was now chief. Ruk was twice as mean as his father, reckless and ruthless. He spent his life raiding the people of the Valley and kidnapping their women to add to his collection of wives.

As for Wideherder and Gaia, so many years had passed that romance was beyond their fate. Though, the friendship always remained, even if visits were few and far between. Ruk was too young to know anything of their past love affair, but his insatiable ego and spiteful nature was a new and perilous threat to shaman, all its own.

Gaia was the Matriarch of the tribe and well respected in all the lands, but she had great trouble advising the young chief. But one area of her authority was unquestioned. She was the premiere expert on all herbs and magic, particularly the plants of the Highland, which possessed many powerful properties. Gaia was also a great and sought after medicine woman, specializing in childbirth and womanly needs. The old shaman knew, if anybody could help Baubo, it would be her.

By the time he arrived at the Highland Village, the sun was rising for a new day. The old man had walked slow and steady through the night, with his trusty everburning ember torch, covered in sap and marsh oil.

He knew his way around, the aged sage. He had travelled the lands much further than anyone else his tribe, on missions for magical items and in seeking wisdom of elders, and on vision quests that only a shaman can know. Though the hunters would often head far south and get lost deep in the wilderness, Wiseherder had been to all civilizations of the known world. He had also traversed the inner world. He had even travelled out into the forbidden Sands of Time, to honor the dying chiefs with the Rites of Apotheosis.

Now, he was walking in the threshold of the great Highland Village. They had built a wall of large stacked stones, with an open portal, just wide enough for one person to enter at a time. The Highland People shared a single dwelling. They all lived in a large wooden lodge in the center of their yard.

It was a communal building, with large shared areas for cooking, eating, and entertainment. There were small rooms with Ari skin doors for private areas and sleeping quarters. The only separate dwellings were two large stone domes with smoke stacks. They were the home of Ruk and his wives, and the office of the medicine woman.

Wiseherder entered the village and was met by two guards with flint spears. They were tall and thick, with long locks and stoic faces. The Highland People were general taller than those of the Bushland. The air was thinner and they had to stretch their lungs to breath, Wiseherder told himself.

The guards held intersecting spears in his way, refusing to move. Ruk approached. He had grown much older since the shaman’s last visit. He looked older than he should, and worse for the wear and tear. He wore a feathered headdress, fastened with an Ari skull, with huge spiraling horns on each side. It was extremely heavy and functioned as a weight. Ruk’s neck and shoulders were toned and strong, looking almost superhuman. The headdress was threaded with a skin mask that could be slid down over his face in times of battle. The mask was painted all white and only exposed Ruk’s eyes. For now, it was bunched up under the skull.

At first, he didn’t recognize Wiseherder, but for the gleam in his eyes. Then Ruk smiled and shoved the guards aside, “Fools, don’t you know who this is? This is the legendary shaman of the Bushlanders!” He laughed a booming, hearty laugh and addressed the visitor, putting his huge hand on the old man’s shoulder, “Wiseherder! How goes it? It has been so long! Come in, come in!”

Ruk led Wiseherder into the communal lodge. The warm scent of stew filled the air. The was a long wooden table, cut from a huge Bakro Tree. It bulged on one side, where the adults sat. At the narrow side sat all the children. The whole tribe was sitting for the meal, which was just about to be served. “Good timing!” Ruk smiled back at Wiseherder, “Come, sit. Enjoy the finest Ari stew in all the land.”

There was however, one important person missing from the kitchen. Gaia was nowhere to be scene. Wiseherder tried to inquire, but the chief insisted they eat and speak later about it. He promised they would visit her tent soon enough. The stew was fantastic, as promised, and the company was lively and cheerful. The children put on a dance, while Ruk played a melody upon an old marsh reed from the Bushland: a gift from Wiseherder, many years ago.

When the meal and entertainment was finished, the children were sent off to their rooms. The chief and shaman to a walk down the yard, to the dome of the medicine woman. Along the way, Ruk explained that Gaia was ill. She had not been out of her home for nearly a full moon cycle. He said that her mind seemed to be going, and she did not always make sense. He warned that she may not even recognize her old friend.

There was a string outside the Ari skin door of her stone house. The string was tied with clay beads and shells from the marsh. It was used as a doorbell. Ruk shook the string and it rattled in announcement of their visitation. The was no answer, but noises could be heard inside of someone tinkering with small objects. He shook it again. Still no answer. “Come to the door, old woman, we have a special guest!” Ruk shouted, impatiently.

“Just a moment. I am in the midst of a discovery.”

“Open the door before I yank it off your threshold!”

She popped her head out of the doorway, muttering, “What could be so import…” as she looked up, she instantly recognized her old soulmate a grinned from ear to ear. “Well, what took you so long? … you old fool!” They both burst out laughing and embraced. “Come on in.” She pulled the wooly door open and stepped aside, making room for her guests.

“Woman, what were you working on that you would ignore your chief?” Ruk asked angrily.

“Watch!” She ground up some grass seed in a wooden mortar and pestle and mixed with water. She added crushed Humulus Flowers and mixed it up, until the water was fully absorbed by the grain. She rolled it on the table and stuffed the dry mixture into a clay bowl. She covered it and placed it over her woodstove.

“You crazy old witch! There’s not enough water in that meal… and you’re are adding sleeping flowers into our porridge? Are you trying to poison us? Wiseherder, I told you she’s gone mad!” the chief was annoyed.

“A little respect…” Wiseherder urged.

“Respect?! I am the CHIEF!!!”

“Wait for it…” Gaia stuck her finger up, “Just another few moments, now.”

Just as Ruk’s patience had reached its end, Gaia grabbed her mits and pulled the covered bowl from the fire. When she lifted the lid, something amazing was revealed. Wiseherder and Ruk had give a double take.

“What kind of magic is this???”

The Porridge had solidified and rose up from the dish. The smell was amazing. The food seemed to have expanded by triple. Gaia laughed and shoveled the magical product out onto a plate. She sliced it into three and offered a share to the men. They were amazed. It was a miracle! Gaia’s new magic could feed the whole tribe with one-third of the grass heads, and it was ten times more delicious: a solid, filling meal.

“Impressive, as always!” Wiseherder smiled, as he enjoyed the warm morsel. The trio ate in satisfaction. They shared a vessel of aged draught from the medicine woman’s shelf. They were all soon stuffed and feeling happy.

“This was wonderful, Gaia!” Wiseherder praised her hospitality.

“This concoction of yours changes everything. I will prepare immediately for a raid on the grasslands, at the rising of the sun. I’ll prepare the weapons and Goblin masks, and all the sacks the men can carry. We will reap enough bushels to feed our people for many moons.”

“In the Bushland, we have a similar meal that we make from the Golden Grass. We call it bread. We heat it in our riverclay ovens and mix it with fruit...But it does not expand and rise like this. How did you do that?” The shaman inquired.

“Well, as you know, the Humulus Flower is full of spirits, and is the key ingredient in many potions. When heated to the right degree, the spirit is released, and fills the meal with breath. The mixture is so elastic, that it can contain the spirit and grow the portion. By changing the properties of the material, you can multiply its value. This is what the elders spoke of in the Legend of Khem.” She explained.

Wiseherder nodded, but Ruk did not believe or understand the meaning of such ancient legends. He shook his head, “However it works, it works. I must rest and prepare for an early raid to get you more supplies. Wiseherder, come. I will find you a nice room to lodge in.”

The old man stood from his stool, but Gaia grabbed his hand. “He can stay with me. He has come here to seek my wisdom. We have much to discuss.”

Ruk looked at Wiseherder, who returned to his seat. “Is that so?” Wiseherder confirmed. Ruk raised his hand to say goodbye, “Very well. Enjoy your stay. I will see you with the sun.” And with that, the chief departed, ducking through the door, with giant horns.

“So, old friend, it sure is good to see you.”

“Yes, how have things been?”

“Not great. This chief is mad with power. He, of course killed my father and has no love of me. He needs me for my magic and medicine, but does not respect me or heed my advice. Any warning I give him of breaking the ancient code, and at any public tribunals, he tells the tribe that I am losing my mind.”

“Hmm… not good…”

“His greed and gluttony know no end. He spends every day with his warriors, raiding the people of the Valley Beyond. The tribe love him, because there is always a surplus of goods.”

“What is it that he wants from them?”

“All the things that cannot grow in the Highlands: grasses for porridge, medicinal herbs and flowers, smoking plants and, of course, they track the Ari through their grazing fields. Let’s be honest, my people have always been raiders. It is our way of life and a means to survive in the harsher times. But even my father, as cruel as he could be, knew that there was a balance. We took what we needed, and we allowed the Valley dwellers access to our springs and shared the paths to the Bushland and Jungles. We honored their gods and rites, including their high ceremony on the ancient Mound of the Earth Goddess. Now, Ruk has forbidden them access to the springs, the paths and the mound. He slaughters the Ari in massive numbers, and lays the grass fields barren. Some of their people have begun migrating into unknown lands, in search of water and new fields. Their numbers are dwindling, while we live like fatted Goblins in an indulgent horde, soon to be fed to Marxuss, the wicked god of war. I fear this lifestyle will not last for long. This is why I am trying to make the bread expand and find other ways to keep a surplus without depleting all the resources of our land. Wiseherder, I have had visions of a great war. When the supplies run out, believe me, he will send his scouts into the Bushland.”

“This not good news at all. I do not know how I can help you with this, and I apologize… but I have come here to seek your help with an urgent matter.”

“What is it?”

“The old chief’s daughter is expecting a child, but she is late… extremely late. The child was conceived by breaking the Original Taboo. Our whole tribe is in great danger, and I fear not only her life, but the survival of our people. We have lost two already to tragedy, and tensions are building. They all know something is not right. I attempted the Baptism Ritual, but I fear it has failed. The young chief… her brother… the father of the child… he has become very strange and everyone can sense it. The Goblin spirits swarm the camp.”

“Stop right there. You must put an end to it. You must banish them. But first, you have to get the baby out… and sacrifice it to Blanque. Only then will you know peace again. I will prepare you a potion of Ricin Flower Seeds to induce the birth.” Gaia stood up and shuffled through some items on her altar, and finally grabbing a small black blade, handed it to Wiseherder, “Here, take this gift: my father’s sacrificial knife, made of the dried lake of fire from Mt. Demon. This is what you must use to perform the sacrament.”

Wiseherder’s heart dropped, and he was filled with dread. He held the blade in his hands and silently watched her mash the Ricin Flower Seeds into a pulp, add rain water and a few strange ingredients, pour it into a clay jar, and seal it with and Ari wool cork. Wiseherder put it in his sack and placed by the front door. The two old lovers spoke very little after that. They soon went to sleep, sharing a large wool pallet on the floor.

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