Chapter 42 - Ending Times
The Ashwoods, Wilds of Goshawk. SE Britain
The hair of indigenous savages is characteristically dark, thick, coarse and wavy even so there are exceptions to the rule. The hair of the wild maiden who now paddles alone in a small dugout has long hair that is jet black and most fine for one of our kind. She’s pretty and petite, but her face is haunted. The stream which she paddles is choked on its surface by a floating meadow of watercress.
We’ve met this plucky maiden before. Gisella the Fearless, a daughter of the Lynx Ishi of Banat, south of this stream. The brave girl who didn’t wince at her ceremony of maidenhood, and who kicked at her attacker in a dark den. If you didn’t know this history, and were to meet her, you might assume Gisella to be delicate and worthy of the protection of a stronger armed man. That perception would be wrong. Any mother of the wild nations would be proud to have Gisella as a daughter.
This Lynx Amazon guides her dugout to cut through watercress, and beneath the dangling canopy of willow. She pushes her bow into bankside vegetation, leaping into the shallow waters of a hidden beach. She treads black peats onto sandier soils, whose grains stick to her naked feet. Gisella gathers windfall and brush with which to disguise her boat on this clandestine shorefront. Her dugout isn't the only one to be hidden here.
Gisella picks up her bow and baggage following a narrow aurochs trail up a gentle hillside to reach firmer clay soils. Gisella is startled, when a male voice calls out,
‘Halt there’. Its issuer shows himself, stepping out from the understorey. A young man, a dark-skinned warrior of the Goshawk. His hair ran through with red clay, and his face smudged green. Gisella observes he has scarring with a deformity on his left shoulder, and that barbarian scalps hang from his quiver. Beneath the green dust, his face is boyish, with patches of fluff on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are haunted in the same way as Gisella’s. They have both seen evils that leave damage,
The two savages recognise one another. Gisella stayed with the Ishi of Shurak as a diplomat, having returned with Jamilan. That was before the Ending Time. Gisella breaks the silence between them,
‘Durran isn’t it?’ She knows well who he is, for their curious eyes met on more than one occasion during less troubled times.
A big smile breaks his pained face, she sees the youth he'd been. Sadly she can't return the smile. Her pain is too recent and intense. Durran observes this in her harrowed eyes, drops his boyish grin, and takes her by the hand,
‘Please Gisella, let me escort you to our new camp’.
She nods in silent agreement, still too choked to speak. These two beautiful savages follow the faint trail to higher ground. Durran makes a feeble attempt at conversation,
‘My folk are too few, and we'll need more time to gather food. Soon we must abandon our watch’.
Gisella nods, and with a daring expression remarks, ‘I see that you've the scalps, and the marks of one who has taken human life’. She refers not only to his quiver, scars and green face, but to a new tattoo on his left cheek.
He seems embarrassed, ashamed or both as he answers, ‘This is true. I’ve faced barbarian archers and pikemen. I’ve eaten from the heads of their cattlemen. These criminal acts I did’. He’s surprised by Gisella’s reaction,
‘These actions are not criminal. I want to do the same. I want that so much’.
He detects the damage in her voice. He knows Gisella has suffered the Ending Times.
A small camp of dens under the ash trees is the new home of Shurak. The two youngsters arrive at its sacred hearth. Other survivors of the genocide join them. The tubby figure of Jamilan is among them. He hugs Gisella,
‘My dear child, welcome to our little refuge here in the ashwoods’. He steps back to recognise trauma in her face, and probes, ‘What of our Lynx friends of Banat? What of my friends Kalla and Nazirlan? It isn't joyful news that you bring with you is it Gisella?
In reaction, dry tears fall. She'll not release any that are wet, but turns away her face to hide shame.
Jamilan places a grandfatherly hand onto her arm, ‘Please let’s all gather and drink hot tea. We'll share food. You must be hungry for I see you fade. Then you can share this distressful news’.
In truth, there is little food in reserve. All they can share is a hawthorn tea, a little acorn bread, along with strips of dried beef stolen from barbarian herds. It’s no feast. Shurak has diminished since Gisella’s last visit. Sharlla wasn’t the only elder to have taken her last walk, Mikko had perished, some fell ill with Sun-magic, while others are needed on patrol. Their stomachs are satisfied, and the sun falls beneath the treeline leaving the flames of the hearth to offer warmth. No one points nor gossips when Durran sits close to their visitor, and squeezes her hand. With his reassurance, Gisella has the strength to tell her own tale,
‘The Ishi of Banat didn’t expect an attack to arrive from the north, yet we knew of the barbarian colonies in your wilds. We couldn't bring ourselves to fear the worst, like yourselves, we relocated camp to higher ground. Otherwise we foolishly forgot our own defences, and occupied our minds with finding food’
She pauses to drink hot tea, before resuming her account, ‘The raid was so sudden. The violence. There were so many, armed with bow, pike, and long-handled axes of stone. So many men intent on our ending’. Gisella swallows bile before she continues, ‘I, I shamed the Lynx by running away like a coward. I fled the camp and hid in the forest. Now I am haunted by the ghosts of my family and I pay a penalty by bearing shame. You see… I heard their screams and trembled. I witnessed the bonfires of our dens and did nothing’.
Durran puts his arm around Gisella and holds her tight. She can finish her account, ‘The next morning I returned to find the mutilated corpse of my clan. I found my beloved grandfather Nazirlan the Stargazer in the night sky. The barbarians must have reserved a special hatred of midwives, for I found Kalla impaled upon a stake. She still lived, and begged me to slice her throat’.
The Ishi of Shurak groans at this last revelation. Jamilan stands up as an elder, to pronounce our verdict of this terrible crime, ‘Gisella, no one here blames you for running. Elsewise you would be haunting the other realm. Don’t feel shame, because we'll be proud to adopt you as a daughter of the Goshawk’. All nod their heads and murmur in agreement. The mothers come forward to hug Gisella. Now her wet tears can be released. The flames of a sacred hearth continue to crackle and spit. The survivors sing mourningful songs for their neighbours of Banat.
The Massacre of Shurak
Several days pass free of incident, before as Durran predicted, men are forced to abandon the watch so that they may hunt.
It was wildborn, orphaned traitors who acted as the scouts for the Leva warriors, locating the hideout in the ashwoods. It’s early in the morning when several long canoes push through the watercress, beaching the hidden wharf. Today the barbarians play a game of revenge for the attacks on herds. They’re here to destroy a nest of wild people, to claim all natural resources of these wilds.
Conehead warriors sneak up onto the campsite. Early resistance is quickly subdued by the axes of foreigners. Jamilan ushers the frail and babes to escape. The Leva advances with violence. One crone attempts to flee, to be kicked down by a conehead. He roars with laughter as he jabs with his bloody pike. Jamilan attempts to stall his barbarity and rushes the attacker to the ground. Leva brothers in arms turn on the elderman. One swings his long handled axe. Jamilan’s spine cracks with its impact. He falls into a crumpled heap.
Sheeba of-dogkind witnessed this brutal crime. She bares her teeth and jumps up at the throat of Jamilan’s murderer. The barbarian’s brother thrusts a heavy spear into Sheeba’s ribcage. Her spirit follows Jamilan into the spirit forests. Another Leva raider throws embers from the sacred hearth, onto the dens. A mother cradling her baby scrambles from one inferno. Her skin bubbles as her hair is singed by the flames. A barbarian runs up and takes her infant. This, he throws back into the fiery den. The screams should haunt him, but they'll not.
Durran saw this evil. He picks up an arrow from his quiver and loads his bow. He fires it to strike the monstrous arsonist in his cold heart. A bearded giant, armoured in tough pigskin leather charges over to challenge the savage archer. He swings a farmer’s axe at Durran, but something makes the big barbarian lose grip of his weapon and it flies free past his intended victim’s head. The Leva axeman gapes, and falls. Behind him stands a triumphant Gisella, her bloody spear in his back. Hatred twists her pretty face.
In another corner of the camp, Ja’ankilla is dragged from her den. She kicks and spits bravely at three barbarian men. These brutal farmers pull her to the edge of woods. They laugh as they take turns in holding her down, as each lifts his loincloth. One punches her in the face. Watalão sees this outrage. Armed with a javelin, he runs over to Ja’ankilla’s aid. A group of Leva archers sees him. One arrow strikes Watalão in the thigh, another in the buttock. He falls yelling in pain, paralysed by the leaf-shaped flint arrowheads which rip muscles. Watalão’s eyes catch sight of Ja’ankilla’s face. She stares back lifeless.
Belthan tries to rescue Watalão, but Leva archers once more draw their bow strings. Their darts thud into Belthan until he resembles a walking hedgehog. He falls, blood seeping from a stilled body. Two barbarian pikemen move in to finish off Watalão. This time it's Durran and Gisella who intervene. Durran punches one in the jaw, whilst Gisella stabs another with her spear. Gisella waves her weapon at fearful barbarians, Durran pulls Watalão to the safety of the woods. One archer runs forward to knock her down. She runs him through screaming, ‘Die you barbarian filth, die!’
There are too many raiders. Their archers put down their bows to join in the mutilation of dying savages. All but one who senses the shape of a raptor as it flies above the carnage. He is fast with his arrow, raises his bow and the corpse of a goshawk plummets into the sacred hearth.
People scream horribly. Dens burn. The stink of spilled guts and roasting flesh. Durran and Gisella aid a wounded Watalão deeper into the wildwoods. It’s Durran who insists to a reluctant Gisella,
‘We must leave. There are too many. We must live to fight another day’.
Watalão groans with pain, but supports his observation, ‘The massacre is complete, we must find a safe place’.
Gisella spits in distaste. She knows these two Goshawk men speak the truth, but doesn’t wish to run away, she wants to kill. Gisella puts this selfish desire aside, and throws her ruined spear into the mosses. She helps Durran with Watalão. The trio melts into the understorey of dense wildwoods.
Survivors
A new day, in a small glade. Gisella tends to Watalão’s wounds, employing a feminine gentleness difficult to reconcile with yesterday’s violence. Durran steps into the peaceful glade. Carcasses of a few wood pigeons hang from his belt. He apologises,
‘This wilderness no longer favours us with its gifts. We’re no longer its sacred children’.
Watalão lies injured. He doesn’t challenge his junior’s conclusion. Shurak is extinct. Its ending time arrived. They’re orphans with no hearth.
Gisella had suffered the loss of her Lynx clan, and knows well how these two men feel. She fears Watalão’s wounds are already infected and could threaten his mortal life. Free of delirium, he proposes,
‘All three of us survivors are homeless. We should search for our cousins of Na’im. Their camp is near here’.
Pessimistically, Durran retorts, ‘If they’re not already hunting in the spirit forests?’
Gisella lends support to her patient’s suggestion, ‘It would be wise to seek out allies, for I want to kill more of these Sun-devils’. She prepares the birds for cooking. This done, she pulls a charcoaled log. Later Gisella will pierce her lovely face beneath her left eye, and stab the charcoal with a needle of bone. Her own mark to match that of Durran’s. This scarring will be Gisella’s oath of vengeance.