Chapter 15 - Children of the Lynx
The Wilds of Lynx. SE Britain.
I wasn’t privy to all of last night’s chat between my elder and this storyteller named Su’lan. Jamilan updates, ‘Su’lan has generously offered to escort us back to Banat’s camp’.
The Storyteller overhears this and adds,
‘It would be wise for me to do so, as not only do I know where they are camped, but their warriors are agitated by that night raid by others. They might not be as welcoming to two trespassers of the Goshawk, as they were to myself’.
We march across this Prairie of Banat, towards where Su’lan knows the Lynx folk to be camped. I stride ahead on my own, prompting Jamilan to holler,
‘Tashkilla, you should wait for us. Su’lan can show us the way!’
Su’lan chuckles at his side before making a correction,
‘It seems as though my skills as a navigator are not needed. For she follows the path which leads to their camp. Are all Goshawk womenfolk such witches?’
With my cocky certainty I ignore Jamilan’s request, but I don’t wish to share that a spirit is guiding my direction. As for the Storyteller’s compliment, I quietly smirk as I march on.
Nevertheless when I meet a wall of dense woods, I permit the men to catch up. I’m not so stupid that I would step alone into the forests of our sworn enemy. This soon transpires to be a wise decision. When we follow the narrow but beaten animal trail between ancient trees, a group of dark faces painted with red ochre suddenly emerge. We’ve been caught by a band of Lynx warriors!
One of these hostiles screams at us, ‘Stop there trespassers!’ Another adds, ‘Interlopers, poachers!’. These angry young men are well armed with spears
Su’lan throws himself onto the ground, He begs on our behalf, ‘Please it's Su’lan the Storyteller. I’m escorting these two innocents back to your camp, for they request a conference with your wise counsel’. He grins to the Lynx men in friendly recognition.
They beam back down at him. The warrior who emerges as the captain of this band, gives Su’lan a hand back up to his feet. He joyfully declares,
‘We’ll be happy to arrest you and to take you and your new friends to our elders for judgement’.
The Storyteller is quite the diplomat. Hostility towards us ceases as the brave warriors take turns hugging Su’lan. I fear if he had not been with us that these young men may have stifled our breath.
Camp of Banat
We reached Banat, camped on its riverine islet. Our captors have us ceremoniously troshing through shallow waters in order to enter the site. Word has spread that the brave watch has captured invaders from the Goshawk wilds. We’re met by faces crossed with suspicion. I’m concerned for my own safety here, but when I see the nice, friendly smiles on the wizened features of their elders, I relax. Here, two Lynx elders approach the sacred hearth to act as judge for our intrusion.
We savages don’t have chiefs, for such inequality has yet to be invented in our world. An elder cannot rudely command, and expect all to follow. With that said, there are some elders who command great respect, and we savages find it difficult not to heed their wisdom. Here in the camp of Banat, we meet not one but two such sage councillors.
I sense the deep love across this Ishi for the tall ancient man who arrives to sit with us. Despite his many scars and his engraved obsidian features, a strength emits from him. This Lynx elderman peeks at me and gifts a reassuring grandfather smile before he introduces himself,
‘I’m Nazirlan the Stargazer’ he proudly declares. The other wise elder has arrived to join us. A voluptuous old Earth Mother, with flowing locks of snow white hair hanging over her dark, leathery, long breasts. Nazirlan kindly offers an introduction to this great grandmother. With affection he announces, ‘The famous Kalla of-the-Oak’.
She plods her weight down onto a furry stool.
A crowd has formed behind the accused, to ensure we neither harm their elders nor escape to run riot through their camp.
Acting as a neutral, Su’lan stands up to introduce us, ‘Jamilan of-the-Sett, an elder of Shurak, and Tashkilla the Beautiful, a maiden of the Goshawk folk’. I blush, how I hate that title. Su’lan then briefs the council on how he came across us on the Prairie of Banat,
‘After leaving my kind hosts here, I wandered northwards across the plain, when I happened upon the carcass of a once fine bull, claimed by wolf-kind. The bull had first been murdered by poachers, who’d skinned and dehorned their stolen prize’. This disclosure draws gasps of horror from our hosts. ‘When I then encountered these two diplomats, it was clear they were innocent of its death and were as upset by the crime’.
This is followed by more cries of outrage from the crowd. Su’lan continues by summoning the Lynx warrior who had arrested us,
‘Captain of the watch, did you find any sign of bull horn or of bloody hide when you found us in the woods?’
The friendly warrior stands up to answer, ‘I did not. They told me they were peace delegates on the way to this camp. I saw no evidence of butchery nor any other foul play’.
Satisfied we’ve been cleared of any accusation of a serious offence of poaching a bull, Su’lan and the watch captain both sit back down. If found guilty we would have been quickly dispatched to the spirit forests, and our corpses eaten.
It's Kalla, who as an elder of Banat interrogates us, ‘Jamilan of-the-Sett, explain why you crossed the thin water which divides Lynx and Goshawk?’
My elder replies as humbly as he can, ‘To seek a conference here with the council of Banat, for our maiden named Ur’salla of Shurak has been taken. We had followed her tracks to the site of abduction, just yonder of the stream which separates our two wildernesses. There we found the totem of the Lynx, inscribed into a tree’.
Angry murmurs erupt from the crowd behind us. I hear one heckler spit out, ‘Filthy Goshawk lies!’
Nazirlan the Stargazer stands up and calls for calm, so that Jamilan can continue with his testimony,
‘Later we found a clipped coppice on our side of the stream. Evidence for the construction of a get away coracle. Then we happened upon the murdered bull. I suspect Ur’salla’s abductors stole the breath of that fine bull. Its hide would have stretched well over a frame of willow to make their escape craft’.
This utilisation of the missing bull skin, I hadn't even considered. I’m impressed by Jamilan’s cleverness. He cautions,
‘Nonetheless, our warriors saw the mark of the Lynx in the birch woods, and I’m forced to enquire if this abduction of Ur’salla is the work of your folk? If it was meant as a declaration of war, then war it shall be’.
I feel tension and anger from those around us. I see young Lynx men pout as they push out their chests. One rises to his feet and struts a war dance.
Undeterred, Jamilan presses on, ‘If this is none of your folk’s doing, but the works of rogues intent on causing trouble, then I will return to Shurak, and keep the peace’.
The earth mother, Kalla, calmly reacts . She’s been considering his words,
‘Jamilan of-the-Sett, if it's to be war, I assure you we of the Lynx will be victorious. Nevertheless I’ve no knowledge of any recent call for us to annihilate your folk’. She surveys the faces of her Ishi. Kalla lifts her voice, so all will hear her words with clarity,
‘Does anyone know of any such trespass, or raid across the northern stream? Does anyone know anything about this Goshawk maiden called Ur’salla? If so, then you must speak out now.’
A momentary silence, then a buzz of whispers grow into murmurs. I detect some words such as ‘the raiders’, ‘poachers’, and a voice hisses out ‘ask Gisella!’ Nazirlan hushes the chatter, summoning a new witness,
‘Gisella, Gisella the Fearless, come forth to give your testimony of the recent night of the raid’.
Upon hearing that bold title, I twisted around expecting to see a giant beast of a woman emerge, with a beard, and carrying a war club. Instead of such an ogre, I see a petite and pretty maiden, with lovely long jet black hair, as she steps forward to join us. Nazirlan pats at furs by his side, inviting the granddaughter to give testimony. She tends Nazirlan’s engraved, ebony face, and grins back at him. With a nod, he prompts for her account.
She tells us, ‘That night I had feasted early, and retired with an affectionate one of dog-kind. I soon fell asleep, but was awoken by the presence of a stranger in my den. At first I thought he was an amorous kinsman who’d strayed from the lodge. I kicked him hard, but he slayed the dog and I understood his malevolence to be that of a raider! I shouted because I feared the entire camp was under attack. Then he was gone’.
Kalla questions Gisella, ‘Did you recognise this devil?’
‘It was too dark, but something about his manner seemed familiar. Later Aunt Lonia did propose he resembled…’
Nazirlan interrupts her testimony and calls out, ‘Lonia of-the-Honeytree, come forward to give your account of this devil raider’.
An old aunt of sound mind and form emerges to stand by Gisella, as she herself sits down.
Lonia speaks, ‘I was lighting the torch for our men when I saw an intruder run towards me. I worried he might strike me, but he ran past, making his escape to the river. In the light of the flames I recognised his disfigured features’. The earth mother Kalla leans forward to raise a further question,
‘Lonia, you say you knew the intruder. Could you share his identity with us?’
‘Yes Kalla. He’d been born to this Ishi, and had once been a nephew of mine. He committed the most hateful crimes and we scraped away his totems for you to bury under the yew. He was banished as a nameless exile’.
Gisella rises back up, and is granted permission to speak,
‘Although I don’t fear war, I’d gladly return with this elderman to his foreign camp, acting as a guarantor of Peace. There in front of his foolish warriors, I could repeat my testimony’.
Nazirlan and Kalla both nod in agreement to this thoughtful offer. I think Gisella is a brave young maiden and I appreciate her title as fair. The elderman calls back the earlier witness,
‘Captain of the watch, I strongly suggest that the rogues who attempted to kidnap Gisella then stole the Goshawk girl. Do we know who it was that attacked that night?’
The warrior blushes, ‘There were at least four of these devils, including the exile, a giant brute, and a witch of the dreaded barbarians. Her hair was the colour of flames’.
Kalla croaks, ‘I alone may repeat the cursed name of the exile, but others here may wish to cover up their ears’.
Everyone around the hearth and within the crowd, do indeed momentarily cover up their ears leaving only the visitors able to hear Kalla’s whisper,
‘The exile had been named Géza, but it was removed on his banishment. He’d committed unspeakable crimes. His band of orphans are rumoured to haunt the Serpentine waterways of the south’.
Nazirlan has uncovered his long leathery ears, and discreetly adds, ‘There are stories the exile and his orphans have befriended barbarians. The orphans are said to exchange gifts along the Serpentine waterways’.
I cannot silently sit still. I need to announce my resolve,
‘I know Jamilan must return with Gisella to Shurak to keep the peace. I’m unable to because I need to pursue these rogues and rescue my friend Ur’salla. I'll hunt them down’.
Unexpectedly, it's the Storyteller, Su’lan who chirps up, ‘I know those waters and lands of the south. It’s a treacherous world to visit. Tashkilla, I’m willing to help with your noble quest, and guide you to those parts’.
Jamilan adds his support for the storyteller’s kind offer, ‘Su’lan’s offer is generous. Please Tashkilla I fear for your safety in such a dangerous world. I’d urge you to accept’.
I don’t know this Storyteller, though my elderman appears to trust him. His face is kind and I’m afraid of wandering far. I answer,
‘I accept Su’lan’s offer. Tomorrow morning we shall pursue these rogues to liberate my friend’.
Kalla closes the conference when she proposes a feast to celebrate the continuation of peace,
‘The fattiest boar favours our spit over that of the Goshawk’.
Feast of Banat
I feel too upset by my friend's plight to join in celebration. I circulate so I might gain more insight on this nameless exile and his orphans. I need to know the best routes on which to pursue them to their home grounds. Su’lan approaches myself with an effort to better calm my shattered nerves.
The Storyteller cheerfully informs me, ‘Tashkilla, these old foes of your clan who now feed us have kindly gifted to you and I, a steady dugout canoe which we can launch in the morning. I know the routes the kidnappers would have taken. The local streams flow out to the same waters of the Black Stork.
He promises me he has many friends along the way. Oh Ur’salla, I vow not to give up on you. With guidance of both Bull and now a roving storyteller I'll find you. I must confess I fear for my own safety on the arduous trek ahead. Because I am only Tashkilla the Beautiful. Not the Huntress, and not the Fearless.