D'AKANII: Part Three.
TWINS OF A STRANGER; DRY FEET.
12964BBBC.
That Benedara constantly avoided Janak and that he was constantly watching her had not gone un-noticed. Old Jamera confronted his son, who admitted his folly yet refused to change his behavior. “Then you must leave the tribe this night. Take three good men and seek the Khumodin-Alach. When you find them tell Askara that she is welcome to spend her twilight here with me. Bring her, or bring her word, and perhaps on your journey you will discover how to defeat your burning desire and it’s danger to our family.” The younger man was too abashed to protest further. In the morning Jameera and the parents of Janak’s companions informed the tribe that the absence of their sons would not be discussed. Benedara, intuitively needed no explanation, and understanding the old man’s pain walked with him and Wijken all the next days, occasionally touching his elbow. Young Wijken, alarmed at the departure of her uncle did not grok the reasons, but was well aware of her Grandfather’s grief. She fashioned him a headband of leather, adorned with the wings and beak of a bird. His eyes glittered with half teardrops as she slipped the band over his brow, winding it secure into his long hair.
Even before she had mastered walking, Wijken had shown an avid interest, an inherent curiosity for all things. Forever picking up and presenting items, bright eyed, to the nearest member of the tribe. As per their custom they would name the objects, Wijken would repeat and never forget. She was talking and asking questions earlier and more often than any other of the children, delighting the whole tribe. Through all the long years walking, she had remained at Jameera’s side. But her evenings were spent with her brother, her hero, Skandar. Together they learned the skills of Benedara. Skandar and their father Nocht were muscular, lithe and proficient bowmen. Between them they devised many new ways to catch the game as the tribe journeyed, still Northwards on. Each K’Lenten favored their their progress, the ground softening under their bound or bare feet, as they departed each Winter shelter. Whenever the tribe discovered a large dry cave they would mark it with a cairn on the nearest high ground, that it could be seen by those who may follow later. Where the forest precluded such markers, a tall tree would be stripped of it’s mid branches. Cave walls were often scratched and daubed with imagery and simple symbols - hunting information. Benedara taught her children and proteges well.
12961BBBC
The departing M’Hernicusii were observed from a distance by others arriving too late to signal. Three of them raced to catch the departees, the fourth with a grunt of dissatisfaction, descended the steep valley side and entered the half awake camp. Jameera, having had a final word with the messengers sat quietly outside his shelter. “You D’Akanii ?” whispered a voice in his ear. His roaring with pleasure awakened the dormant as he turned to face the laughing Askara. “So, old friend, I am here for you, but my companions are chasing yours !!” “Ha ! they will need wing better than mine” He tapped his headband. “And my son ?” “He is not with us, but he is well. My sister’s daughter persuaded him to linger until our next expedition to the great salted lands we discovered. Some of our peoples are already living there. Also I have other tidings for you…. The mother of your sons is happy with the fisherfolk of the Whitestone Sea. On my final mission she had two more small children. She spoke kindly of you.” They sat in silence a while as the tribe readied for another seven moons of what appeared to be a bog strewn trek.
For the ensuing four moons the clinging clay caused many of the tribe a host of problems and many delays. The triphorlax urged them forward with promises of dry land for dry feet ahead, and for all four seasons at that !! Benedara and Wijken now rarely walked with Old Jameera, allowing him space for Askara. On a midsummer morning as the dew mists lifted, they espied a far off flat topped mountain. Was this to be the promised land ? A few more days would tell. With renewed vigour the tribe sloshed and slid and stumbled until the ground began to gently rise. Smiles on all seventy one faces exuding happy chatter.
The ground became steeper, with clambering places, an icy breeze grew in force, turning quickly into a vicious gale, pushing them upwards at a frightening pace. Many of them lost their footing, some repeatedly. Almost at the brink the violence increased to the point where people were being flung out of sight, their shrieks inaudible as the sky turned black.
Then the water came……
The sun barely showed the next morning the rain being so intense, and so it remained for fourteen days and nights. Four men and three women, all wounded, found themselves within hailing distance along the rim of the plateau, now a hostile alien shore. One of these women was a stranger, with serious injuries. Clearly heavy with child, unable to move, she lay within a semicircle of high rocks. The other survivors clustered around her, tending her needs and improvising shelter from the storm. They collected great numbers of drowned animal and dead fish. There would be no shortage of cold raw sustenance. The days passed, the rain slowly abated, a febrile sun gave light but no precious warmth, and another four survivors were located, Wijken and Skandar amongst them. The siblings had used their clothes to lash themselves together. None of the young children nor any of the older folk had exited the tidal wave.
The strange woman, half conscious spoke not at all, until on the fifteenth morning the sun shone clear at last. She opened her eyes saw Wijken sitting at her side, smiled and gave a rapid birth. The infants, a boy a girl, were quickly washed and placed on the strangers breast. Presently the three slept and fed again. The Mother beckoned Wijken, took her hand and placed it on the babies’ heads. She gestured at the brightening Sun, then at the landscape, saying “Gottenisklandu” She smiled again and then she died.
The tribe buried her the following morning, Skandar raising a cairn as taught by his mother, whilst Wijken did her best with the little ones, sending the other women to search for plants that Benedara had shown her as milk substitutes.
As the land dried out, the tribe recovered, discussing their future. Strangers in a strange land, that was nevertheless bountiful. The twins thrived under Wijkens care, sturdier shelters for the coming Winter were erected. Bows and arrows were produced, deer hunted, their flesh and hides dried, their bones carved as tools. Although the Strange Woman had not spoken their tongue, her one word was taken to mean Good Island. Eventually the D’Akanii took to calling themselves the Good Islanders, Wijken though, never allowed the old name to disappear. Nor did she let them forget the legend of the Golden Lantern. She named the twins as the Male and Female versions from her own tongue for mountain…. Birgin and Birgit. The first born Dry Footed People. Their mother, remembered as Demoeder Av Dreyfuss.
TO BE REVISITED…..
Dear Readers, on Sunday 24th Sept I will be posting my First A,B+C…. ie:- Arts, Books & Cats, together with the first advance notice of your first Libre Libris list (Free Books & Art Prints).
NeXt Article. 27 Sept. Sam can you see that Big Green Tree ? Part Two “Clean Water”
NeXt Legend. Oct 4th. “t’OTHERWITH BOY; The Mystery of Simpson’s Water Tower, A Bejewelled Cat.”
Further Article. Oct 11th. Fresh Air. “License to Breathe.”
Further Legend. Oct 18th. “Wijken Av Viskerbij”
Once again may I thank you for your interest in my work, and all the nice comments you send me too. Also my thanks to the Substack platform for the pleasure I enjoy as a member. Peace, Maurice.