Abbalar Tales ~ 12

 

Abbalar Tales ~ 12 Mandrell

By Len Morgan

They slipped into a routine, in the weeks, following Aldor’s flight.  They would walk out to the edge of town each evening, to unwind, after their storytelling.   After a particularly intense session, they would take in the calm atmosphere at the fringes of the desert.   It seemed to help them wind down, to centre their thoughts and recharge their spiritual and emotional energy.   They would invariably stand gazing up at the sky, for half an hour or more, before one of them broke the silence.   The sky was so clear and bright, the silence so complete, away from the lights and the bustle of town.   They continued to gaze upon the firmament until one of them spoke, tonight it was Wizomi.

"I have received news that Aldor reached his destination safely, and will shortly be returning to us."

"Good news!   Now I can rest easier," she sighed, "We've only known each other a short while but I do miss him very much."    They stood in silence once more experiencing the variable and subtle air currents coming from the west.   The sky was a deep red, Veinen was partially occluded by Vexen, and only a single blue crescent rimmed the red orb." Soon there will be blood flowing in the streets of Bluttland" Wizomi commented, "less than two weeks to a major conjunction." 

"Is that so?   I thought that was merely a tale to frighten children," she said.

Wizomi did not answer and the silence stretched once more.

"Ever since I rescued him from the desert, I have felt a certain responsibility for him.   Do you think the old saying is true?"

"There are so many old saying, to which do you refer?"

"If you save a life, you are responsible for that person’s actions, as if they were your own?"   He smiled, "I would rather believe that we are responsible for our own actions.   I believe that you were fated to act as you did, you could therefore change nothing."

"I've been alone most my life, and quite content with my lot.   Then of a sudden, I met him and my life was changed; for the better, I think."

Wizomi looked long and hard at her then smiled.   "It could of course simply be part of growing up but, I have known you for an even shorter period yet, I have grown very attached to you both.   It is certainly a mystery; it is part of the wondrous matrix the magic of life."

On impulse, she gave him a hug.   "Thank you for those comforting words, we are fortunate indeed to have such a friend."   Briefly, she squeezed her eyes closed and two tiny jewels of moisture traversed her cheeks.   She smiled, shook her head sharply, and the tears were gone.   For a fleeting instant, she thought to kiss him but resisted the urge.  

He waited, expectantly but, it never came.   He smiled wanly, "Come, I'll walk you back to the ‘Travellers Rest’."

"If you don't mind, I would like to be alone, for a while."

"As you wish but, do not stay too long, you know how cold it becomes when the desert cools.   I will see you tomorrow morning." He smiled and headed towards his own dwelling, it was small but comfortable, and adequately suited to his needs.   On his way he passed some late revellers, two young women and a man he vaguely recalled, he had seen them talking at length with Jazim just prior to her departure for Pylodor.   They would probably be heading back by now, having discovered Aldor did not return there after all.  He entered the unlit house, found his bed from memory, and lay down fully clothed.

‘Jazim, now there was a woman,’ he thought, as his eyes closed, he fell into the welcome arms of sleep.

.-…-. 

It was mid-morning when he arrived at the Travellers Rest, to discover, Genna had not returned there the previous evening.   He retraced his steps to where he had left her, fully expecting to discover her still curled up in the small grove of fig trees they frequented.   But, she was nowhere to be seen and the clearing, where they had been, was badly scuffed.   Although there were still a number of clear prints, in evidence, his were not amongst them.   Closing his eyes, he searched for her presence and was drawn at once to the edge of the clearing.   He opened his eyes and scanned the area.   He was on the point of giving up when he saw something, partially buried in the sand, sparkling.   It was her amulet, twin to the one she had given to Aldor as a parting gift.   He retrieved it and noted a link had broken; he put it in his pocket and looked further.   There was a pathway close by, leading away from the town; he followed it to a herdsman's hut that had recently been occupied.   There were wheel tracks leading in a nor-westerly direction and fresh evidence of horses, four or five he surmised, all shod with a pattern common in Corvalen.   He knew who they were, without further evidence, but not where they were taking her.   Retracing his steps, taking care not to step on any prints, he identified three people.   Two were women, with small feet; the other was a heavy-laden man.   His footprints were deep.   They met with the mounted group, who Genna referred to as ‘dog soldiers’, and returned to town by another route when they had been paid for their work.   He needed to know for sure where she was being taken and so, he followed the three back to Mandrell.

It was late afternoon before he located one of the young women.   A few discrete enquiries, and there she was at the bar of the Potters Wheel.  She was settling the recconing for a round of drinks being enjoyed by a group of her peers.  

He approached her and made eye contact, “where have they taken her." He whispered.

She reacted as though he had shouted at her.   "She will be taken back to Corvalen, the palace I believe."

"Thank you," he said and turned away.  

She shook her head but did not look in his direction when he glanced back at her she was laughing and already engaged in deep conversation with a young man, as though they had never spoken.   He smiled, for he knew she would not remember a thing.

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan