Crisis
a novel concerning
the revelation of true character
by
Robert Luis Rabello
This book is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
Crisis
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 by Robert Luis Rabello
All rights reserved.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN: 1-4528-4999-4 (softcover)
978-1-4523-2288-9 (e-book)
Cover art by Laura Haskell
Cover graphics by Kristi Clarke
This book is dedicated to the glory of God,
and to my sons, Tristan and Valerian:
You are the arrows in my quiver
Robert Luis Rabello
Sardis, British Columbia
September 2009
Acknowledgments
As always, I owe a debt of gratitude to my faithful previewing readers, Alan Petrillo and Julian Gray. This story reflects much of their invaluable input. Additionally, I would like to thank Laura Blanton for helping me understand things from a woman’s perspective to which I am not typically privy. My friend and colleague, Rosemary Fischer, offered invaluable assistance in editing the final draft of this book.
More information on the author and the milieu of Devera, including character images and full color maps, can be found by visiting the New Adventure web site:
****
Transitions and Setbacks
A cool mist hovering over the surface of Wounded Heart Creek whispered rumors of summer’s imminent demise. Gentle wind fluttered the yellowing leaves high in the upper branches of aspen trees. Waning light filtered along either bank of the tumbling waters. Warm weather vanished on the fleeting heels of shorter daylight hours as the Daystar retreated southward, leaving lengthening shadows between the mountain ridges, fallen leaves on the forest floor and a sense of urgency among all living creatures to complete preparations for the long, cold season ahead.
The creek, now low in its bed, flowed through a fold that separated two plateaus. To the south arose a broad, densely populated formation where the walled city of Marvic and the ancient Temple Elsbireth towered above a high altitude valley drained by the Lost Maiden River. Stretching westward toward distant, snow-clad ridge lines often obscured in a mantle of cloud, this valley served as the main route to the coastal cities of the Nordans and the Vatherii.
North of Wounded Heart Creek lay an upland known locally as Superstition Mesa, a place where respectable citizens feared to venture. Beneath the sheltering tree canopy a palpable sense of autumnal chill kissed the sweating brow of Kira Ravenwood as she labored along an overgrown path toward the humble home she shared with her twin brother. They lived in precarious isolation near the western edge of this otherwise unpopulated, anvil-shaped mesa.
As the track meandered near the creek, then switched back and forth as it climbed the slope, the sounds of water coursing over rocks and fallen timber in the stream bed faded. Kira heard wind rattling through the aspen leaves, as if in rhythm with her own breathing. The crunching of rubber tires cycling over the dirt and gravel beneath her wheels slowed steadily as she pedaled her hydraulic bicycle uphill.
Though this shortcut from Marvic’s fortified gate to Superstition Mesa cut the time required to make the journey by a third, Algernon, Kira’s brother, had specifically warned against taking this route. “You’re isolated on that path, and if you get into trouble no one will hear you call for help.”
Kira had promised to return straight home, but rather than simply completing her errands as planned, she’d loitered in town, slowly riding by places that lured her soul toward a very different lifestyle than the acetic existence she sustained in her brother’s company. He wouldn’t ever understand how she felt. Kira secretly tarried in a seedy neighborhood, and hoping to avoid inspiring his anger, took the shortcut as a means of making up for lost time.
“Miserable brother!” she muttered upon reaching the old trail that led away from the main road up to the hidden creek and toward an abandoned lookout on the mesa’s rim. “You should know I’m not an invalid!”
The truth of her utterance belied a whole set of contradictions characteristic of Kira’s experience. She and Algernon spent many years as members of the Temple Elsbireth’s sacred community, benefitting from extensive education in arts, sciences, mathematics, physical fitness, martial training and spiritual study. No one in the Temple’s storied history had ever excelled as quickly as the Ravenwood twins. Few could match their minds, and fewer still their fighting skills. This broad and valuable education formed a foundation that should have set both Algernon and Kira on a path toward greatness in Tamarian society.
Yet Kira’s life had taken a very dark turn.
The lingering impact of many poor decisions and difficult behavior that eventually compelled the priesthood to remove both Kira and Algernon remained fresh in her memory. Though she wanted to transition into a life of service that harmonized with her spiritual background, Kira experienced a host of physical and emotional setbacks in her transition to full recovery.
She regretted much of what she’d done in her recent past, often vacillating from debilitating guilt to sudden, inexplicable anger. Now, as she drudged up the trail, Kira debased herself for staying so long in the city. It had been stupid and impulsive to linger near The Bloody Bucket. She shouldn’t have ridden into a warren of back alleys, following the wicked aroma of burning opium that seductively lured her soul.
Yet a powerful desire to overcome her problems eventually turned Kira away from temptation. Wasting no further time, she raced through the city–pedaling hard toward home–knowing that Algernon had been waiting for most of the day to hear the news about her application to the National Land Office Registry. Among the Tamarians land ownership required actual possession of territory and filing a successful petition with the local Land Office Registrar, a government office whose oversight included compliance with zoning, safety, health and environmental standards. Occupying vacant land without registration, though not technically illegal, did not extend ownership over resources to citizens. Because nearly every male in Tamarian society served and risked his life in the army, property rights traditionally fell to female family members. For this reason, Kira had registered the property claim on behalf of herself and her twin brother.
Superstition Mesa had a well-earned reputation. Its summit lay dotted with abandoned homesteads, the evidence of dreams from decades ago shattered in the harsh realities of thin soil, bitter winters and a lack of potable water. Though lovely in appearance, graced with deeply-rooted trees, broad meadows and hot springs, local people feared to venture there. Legends of ghosts and rumors of giants stalking in the night deterred all but the most brazen, so when Kira appeared at the Land Office Registry with a completed application for a permanent settlement on the summit of Superstition Mesa, the young clerk working at the front desk called for a middle-aged supervisor, who raised her eyebrows and subjected the girl to a host of questions concerning her request for land title.
“Why would you leave the Sacred Enclosure to live on Superstition Mesa with your brother?” the woman asked in astonishment. “Have you sought counsel among the priesthood, or perhaps, older family members?”
Kira tried, somewhat successfully, not to roll her eyes. “My eldest brother is a lieutenant serving with the Expeditionary Force in Kameron,” she replied, speaking truthfully, but not stating that Garrick qualified as only marginally more experienced than his younger siblings. “We’re building this project with his knowledge and blessing.”
The girl deliberately neglected mentioning the fact that Garrick, who’d attained his position by virtue of a battlefield promotion, had never set foot on Superstition Mesa and knew nothing of its reputation. Because all officers serving in the Tamarian army completed formal schooling, extensive training and acquired military experience before taking on the responsibilities of rank, Kira’s testimony deceptively implied that her elder brother was, in fact, considerably older than was actually the case.
“We’ve already started building our new house,” Kira continued. “My brother, Algernon, has been working on the masonry heating stove for weeks now. We’ve got an elevated cache completed that we’ve already begun filling with smoked fish. We’ve dug a root cellar. I’ve collected berries; I’ve been shelling nuts and canning fruit. Once we’re well-established, we’ll build a mission up there. It’s all in the application!”
Kira carefully concealed the lurid details of her life in a creatively constructed web of obfuscation, omission and misdirection, constantly worried that somehow the civil servants with whom she interacted might discover that she’d been involved in the drug trade and prostitution, thereby obligating them to deny her application for land she and her brother needed to survive. Criminals in Tamaria could not own land for five years subsequent to conviction, and though Kira had not even been accused of a crime, her young mind needlessly and irrationally worried that the bureaucrats would somehow find out about the many regrettable deeds that lay within her past.
Part of this paranoia stemmed from Kira’s youth, as she didn’t fully comprehend how little other people actually cared about her, but she also harbored a more appropriate fear that had any of them known of the love affair she sustained with a young priestess named Astrid, back in her days at the Temple Elsbireth, none of the goodwill automatically granted to members of the sacred community would be extended to her. That fact alone would not give the civil servants a legitimate reason to deny her application, but the resulting scandal would be very difficult to live down. Marvic, though it served as the national seat of government and boasted a diverse, cosmopolitan populace by Tamarian standards, remained small enough that reputations spread quickly and persisted among a predominantly conservative citizenry.
Kira had imagined herself boldly telling the tale of her enslavement in the hope of saving other girls from falling for the lies told by drug dealing pimps; yet Astrid had warned that straight-laced citizens living in Marvic would frown upon the double chain helix branded onto Kira’s left forearm, that her opium tales would cast doubt on her credibility, and that rumors of her serving as a strichmadchen might turn the noses of even the most compassionate.
But Kira’s early childhood experiences honed the skills of misrepresentation to a fine point. By not telling a blatant falsehood she preserved what little self-esteem had been building since her return from war-torn Kameron–where she’d become a slave–and wove a story about her plans for mission service without revealing much verifiable truth. Leaving her personal history unspoken, Kira relied on wit and charm to navigate through the shifting and unpredictable maze of human interactions necessary to survive in Tamarian society. Being pretty helped–even among the women who dominated Marvic’s civil service–but the impact of Kira’s intelligence and charisma proved powerful enough to develop trust and smooth every rough edge in the social milieu through which she moved.
The supervisor at the Land Office Registry, though she imagined that something about this particular application didn’t seem right, uncovered no valid reason to deny the petition. Having raised children herself, an unspoken maternal instinct aroused suspicion that the Ravenwood girl’s story lacked complete truthfulness. Genuinely concerned that such a young woman would apply for the rights to land that nobody else had successfully homesteaded, the supervisor insisted on conditions. “I’ll send someone out to have a look at your project,” she said. “We want to make sure that you two are safe.”
Kira smiled sweetly, covering her swelling panic with the suave skill of an accomplished liar. “When might we expect such an inspection?” she asked. “We’ve been fishing a lot and gathering firewood lately. I’d want to make sure we’re available to answer any questions your agent might ask.”
This request–though it sounded practical–served a different purpose entirely, deflecting the supervisor’s attention away from the fact that Kira had implied substantial progress in establishing the homestead. A thorough inspection would reveal serious deficiencies that undermined the strength of their claim, so Kira wanted to establish some kind of time frame in order to pace their progress in making up the difference between what she’d inferred they’d done, and what had actually been completed to date.
The reason she and Algernon had fallen behind schedule had much to do with a supporting rationale behind her choice to take the path along Wounded Heart Creek. Stated simply, Kira had not been feeling very good since her return to Tamaria and Algernon ended up doing far more work on his own than they’d planned. Kira blamed this on her withdrawal from opium addiction, but a semblance of honesty within her soul knew this wasn’t true either. Something else tormented Kira’s body–something she worried about constantly–but only in secret.
With Garrick far away in Kameron, Algernon consumed with his construction project and Astrid living back within the Sacred Enclosure, Kira endured friendless isolation and faced her secret malaise alone. With the homestead progressing slowly and winter descending from the mountains, Kira struggled against depression as she tried to repair the frayed relationship with her volatile twin brother. Thus, the girl lived an elaborate lie, keeping her infirmity and her personal history as hidden as the double helix brand concealed beneath the sleeve of her gown.
Feigning ease among Marvic’s people, smiling at them, blessing them in the manner of a priestess–though she had not completed all of her sacred vows–Kira projected a serene expression while veiling her problems and quietly longing for a dip into a hot spring to soothe the cramping that plagued her.
Algernon had become unusually tolerant of her malingering, restraining complaints he would have forcefully expressed in the months before rescuing her from the brutal masters who’d owned and abused her. That experience changed him, mostly for the better, but also inspired an inflated belief in his personal ability to overcome any obstacle, whereas Kira’s feminine wisdom warned that such overweening confidence could precipitate disaster.
Yet her knowledge of Algernon’s love tempered criticism. He’d risked his life for her sake, and thus, she often held her tongue and felt guilty for taking advantage of her brother by leaving him to do most of the hard labor alone. Whenever the pain rose above her ability to tolerate discomfort–and this happened with increasing frequency–she always took some menial work along with her to the spring, feeling that the small gestures of pitting ripe fruit for canning, or shelling wild nuts while she sat in the hot water helped him understand that she didn’t intend for him to shoulder so much responsibility for their survival.
As she neared the first of two benches above the creek bed, Kira felt a little dizzy from her exertion and paused to catch her breath. Some foul aroma lingering in the air inspired a spike of nausea that she quickly controlled while she straddled her bike and leaned backwards to check the contents of her rear bags and an attached, single-wheeled trailer. She’d borrowed astronomy and math books from the library for her brother, bought a pair of warm blankets from a thrift shop, some fabric to make winter clothes and three spools of thread from money Algernon had given her. For a moment she considered how his money pouch never seemed to run out of coins, but then something very large moved within the nearby shrubs and Kira froze, her heart pounding intensely.
She heard huffing and snorting, like the breathing of a huge animal, then watched in horror as a massive cave bear stood on its haunches and sniffed the air, growling. Unlike the common grizzly bears inhabiting lower elevations, this fearsome creature had silvery-grey fur, a body twice the size of its closest ursine relative, with claws and teeth to match. Poking Its head above the huckleberry bushes where it had been feeding, the giant beast snapped its jaws and uttered terrifying, guttural sounds.
Kira lowered her eyes immediately, not wishing to appear a threat. She wondered if it could smell her blood, for though this creature was reported to be a herbivore, it might think her wounded and could easily kill her with a single blow. Kira backed slowly downhill, looking for an escape route should the bear decide to charge, knowing that if it did her only possibilities of escape lay in racing downslope at top speed. To do so, she’d have to turn her bike and trailer around on a narrow, rocky path littered with debris, a dangerous task under normal circumstances, highly elevated in risk by the potential pursuit of an aggressive bear.
The girl’s young heart fluttered fearfully. Despite her years of study and devotion in the Temple, she did not think to pray. Impulsive and often reckless, Kira did not live by faith and usually depended on her own wit to solve immediate problems. She was smart, and in this case good judgment saved her.
The bear watched her careful retreat for what felt like a very long time. As dusk settled on the mesa and the gloom beneath the tree canopy deepened, Kira moved backward in slow, deliberate steps until the cave bear lost interest in her, dropped to its feet again and resumed feeding.
Once she felt confident that the bear wasn’t following, Kira turned her bike around, stood on its pedals and coasted down the path she’d just climbed. A few minutes later she emerged near Marvic’s gate, attracting the attention of a Defender, one of the elite palace guards who manned the ramparts surrounding the city. He shouted something to her that mingled unintelligibly with the waxing wind as Kira’s platinum hair followed her fleeting form into the lingering twilight.
***
Algernon worried about his sister’s delayed return. Knowing that she hadn’t been feeling well, he imagined a host of horrible happenings to explain her tardiness. The young priest hoisted a bucket filled with mortar mix overhead using a rope and pulley, tied it off, then lifted twelve handmade bricks onto the scaffold he’d erected. Aching from long exertion, Algernon climbed up to survey and carefully set the sixth set of inner air channels into place.
He’d originally planned seven layers into his masonry stove, but with autumn sweeping rapidly from the distant heights, Algernon worried that he’d not be able to complete the project, collect sufficient food and erect a small house for him and his sister to occupy before the first snow fell upon the mesa.
Six layers of air channels would do. According to an authoritative book he’d read on the subject, cooled exhaust gases within the flue would create a strong vacuum to draw air through the intake baffles he’d built at the base of the stove. Having cast nearly two thousand bricks from clay that he’d dug and carefully sifted, mixed with sand hauled from a nearby slide–along with fine gravel hoisted out of a creek bed and brought to the building site in his bike trailer–Algernon needed no other exercise to remain fit and strong.
In truth, he felt exhausted by the effort and despaired about the increasingly urgent need to erect a permanent shelter. Time slipped away, yet in the lonely hours while his twin sister traveled to and from Marvic, Algernon found his mind wandering as he fretted over the sheer immensity of undone duties that daunted him.
He didn’t want to abandon hope, though he doubted Kira would criticize him too harshly if she returned and found him idle. Beneath the veneer of self-confidence his sister projected, Algernon knew she was really a terrified girl who’d been badly abused and clung to him in hope that their future would be brighter than the darkness of her previous experience. Though it felt good to be needed, Algernon worried that his pursuit of self-sufficiency provided her an empty promise no better than the one that Marco, the son of a foreign drug dealer, had used to lure Kira from the Temple and into slavery in Kameron.
Kira deserved a better life. Could he succeed in building the dream he’d articulated to her and Astrid when they’d been reunited in early summer? He’d imagined all the details necessary to ensure their survival, but as the weeks passed the list of tasks that needed completion diminished slowly, and the transition to his dream of an independent existence proved vexing, backbreaking and fraught with setbacks. With autumn breathing cool winds that stirred his homemade, vertical axis electric generator, with the golden grasses dropping their seed heads for next year and the migratory birds fleeing for warmer climes further south, Algernon brooded that he and Kira might starve or freeze to death in the months ahead unless something changed drastically, and something changed soon.
Originally, he’d come to Superstition Mesa seeking peace. He wanted to be left alone, but now, Algernon seethed with frustration. Old doubts arising from the depth of his soul simmered under the heat and pressure of missed deadlines and the looming fear of facing a long, harsh winter with very little communal support. He tried to pray. He tried to focus on his task, while his aching hands protested every effort. Nothing worked. The rage swelling within him only found release in an exploratory journey at midmorning that allowed him to process his convoluted thoughts while leading him to hidden places surrounding his new home.
Having already explored most of the old, barely navigable trails overgrown with aspen saplings, blackberry vines and shrubbery, Algernon wandered, with a dowel he used as a staff in hand, through a young evergreen forest that lay to the northeast. The aroma of pine resin wafted on the breeze as the wind skimmed above the forest, its whisper punctuated by chirping cicadas. Creeping insects and small mammals diligently storing food scurried for cover as he approached. Avoiding scat from wolves and noting that a bear had left its claw marks on a tree trunk nearby, Algernon climbed up an outcropping he called Hangman’s Hill, the highest point on the mesa.
The boy regained his breath, meditated on the view for a few moments, then swung the dowel around in mock combat with invisible adversaries until he’d vanquished the imagined foes and triumphed in their cowering submission. At that moment he noticed something unusual in his domain: a gap in the tree cover several hundred yards distant that lay hidden by the mesa’s topography from every vantage point except this one.
His curiosity piqued, Algernon leaped down from the rock face and trotted in a northerly direction, noting that the landscape gradually descended as he did so. A dry, seasonal stream bed soon crossed his path, then turned to follow the gentle slope, and on its far bank Algernon found a trail that had been packed hard, as if trodden by many feet.
That seemed strange. Algernon had been sneaking out of the Temple Elsbireth and hiking up to explore Superstition Mesa for years. He’d found several abandoned settlements marked by their dilapidated buildings and overgrown fields, he’d seen large ungulates, migratory macaques, and avoided the tall, nasty-dispositioned glacier gulls who rode afternoon thermal currents up from Fallen Moon Lake, nearly a mile below the mesa’s edge. He’d found evidence of cave bears in the area, but never had he encountered a single person, nor any hint of recent habitation.
Though people feared this area and stayed away, Algernon thought its reputation was ill-deserved. Among the old trees, between huge, weathered stones and crystalline mineral pools brimming with soothingly warm water, a thousand secrets lay awaiting discovery. Many creatures lived successfully on Superstition Mesa, but the large ones used it as a transitional bridge to and from some other place. Animal trails crisscrossed the topography, but all of the paths made by humans had long since fallen into disrepair. Of these, only the road leading up from the Lost Maiden Valley and the old army trail ascending from Wounded Heart Creek remained clear enough to recognize.
With a quickening step and a pounding heart, Algernon pressed onward. Soon the light penetrating the forest canopy increased and he found himself approaching the edge of an unnatural clearing. The smell of the forest changed as he entered a recently logged area. Examining the marks on several trunks, Algernon realized that each of these fifty-year-old trees had been hewn with hand axes in only two or three blows, and in response he raised his brow in wonder.
Algernon sniffed the air, his face wrinkled in disgust. What was that stench?
Retreating back into the forest with his senses on high alert, Algernon circled the clearing from the safety of the trees and made his way along its fringes to where a larger path led back uphill on the opposite side. The trampling of small plants along the edge of the trail indicated recent, heavy traffic, and as Algernon ascended the slope he encountered a sight that made him stop short and hold his breath.
Giants!
A two level stockade surrounded an even taller central lookout tower. Through the open gate Algernon saw a single long house, a forge of some kind and a storage building all arranged to create a courtyard in the center. A smoldering midden beyond the eastern wall indicated that the fortress contained living occupants, though giants didn’t run their forges, cooking or trash fires during the day for fear of producing smoke and drawing attention to themselves. Though the trash stank, a different, musky stench wafting from within nearly made the young priest gag. This had to be a male encampment, and for Algernon and his sister, such a dwelling so close to their own meant deep trouble!
The dread of giants instilled from childhood in most Tamarian citizens by virtue of nightmare-inducing bedtime stories, coupled with a national history in which nearly all Tamarian people had served as slaves to the heartless and savage mountain giants would have compelled a wiser person to depart quickly and quietly. In Algernon’s case, a strong belief in personal invulnerability resulting from youthful inexperience, bravado and genuine talent as a fighter motivated him to creep forward for a closer look.
Though the encampment and its oversized dimensions loomed large before his eyes, Algernon soon realized that fewer than a dozen giants actually lived in this place, and that to them, this must have been a very small fort. In giant society the males and females maintained separate quarters, which meant that a group of females and their offspring lived somewhere nearby. The audacity this clan displayed in settling so close to Tamaria’s capital city demonstrated either that the local population had grown beyond the ability of the high, alpine plateaus to sustain them, or that this family had been banished from their lands for some social impropriety.
None of that mattered. Old enmities over injustices and cruelties inflicted on both sides ensured that no land could ever be shared. Giants killed or enslaved Tamarians, while Tamarians mercilessly destroyed the giants. Neither compromise, treaty, nor negotiation would ever suffice to heal this ancient, ongoing conflict. Algernon shuddered and backed away from the encampment, remembering how his brother Garrick and the platoon he led had been ambushed by a giant clan’s war party while on a training exercise several months earlier. During that encounter, the marauding giants had nearly killed Garrick.
As Algernon scurried back toward his homestead, he fretted over this unsettling news. While he felt compelled to immediately notify the army, the presence of Tamarian warriors would likely involve a forced evacuation of the mesa in the interest of safety. With the homestead unfinished, Algernon and Kira would be forced to seek shelter in Marvic for the entire winter, depending on the charity and hospitality of their fellow citizens for survival.
Though as a priest he merited such treatment–and many of Marvic’s residents would have gratefully taken in the twins–Algernon had grown up on a farm, where the values of working hard and living frugally were steeped into his soul. Except for long distance traveling, he didn’t take food deliberately left by prosperous citizens for the needy from the shrines, thinking that by doing so he might deprive sustenance to others who were incapable of productive labor. Also, all the effort he and Kira had exerted thus far would be for naught if they had to move, for who could foresee the end of the army’s conflict with mountain giants in this region?
Worse, their application to the National Land Registry Office could now be denied or delayed because of this. Algernon knew of no other large property within walking distance of Marvic that he and his sister could legally occupy, and for Kira’s long term service goals, proximity to the city remained crucial.
Yet if he didn’t notify the army, how long would the giants tolerate humans living so close by? They’d attacked and tried to kill Garrick, who’d fought them with more than twenty, well-trained men. How could he and Kira possibly defend themselves against a war party like that? Or even if the giants didn’t kill them, how could they prevent creatures twice his height and four times his weight from stealing food from the elevated cache, from taking his firewood, or knocking down his dwelling in the midst of winter?
Either way, somebody would die, and Algernon had no intention of giving up his claim to land on the mesa. The giants had to go.
Could he keep it quiet and drive them out, somehow? Could he and Kira frighten them away? Letting his imagination toy with that scenario for a while, Algernon envisioned burning down their fort, only to realize that any aggressive move on his part would likely inspire retaliation by a much larger, stronger and well-armed force.
Should he buy a gun? Algernon considered the possibility, only to recall how Jawara, the tall and muscular Abelscinnian warrior he’d befriended in Kameron, laughed at the lack of skill Algernon displayed when trying to shoot a rifle. Also, the guns designed to combat giants were huge bored, ferociously loud and, according to Garrick’s experience, recoiled like the kick of an irritated mule. Algernon didn’t trust something that might go off accidentally, and though he could fight with a blade or a stick, a gun didn’t suit his temperament.
Leaving rifles to the army seemed a better solution. Besides, Algernon hadn’t settled here intending to fight. He wanted peace. He wanted to live in blissful solitude. But he also wanted a safe place for his sister to conduct her service among Marvic’s wayward, hoping that his dream for a permanent home could harmonize with Kira’s mission. The presence of giants on Superstition Mesa ruined everything.
When he arrived at the knoll where his heating stove lay, he called for Kira repeatedly, but she didn’t answer. Her continued absence gave him more time to think, more time to brood, more time to grow angry about facing another setback. Algernon steeled his resolve, returning to his building with renewed fervor. If he had to spend the winter in Marvic, he wanted to make certain no one else could rightfully claim the homestead as their own, and the only way to ensure that involved making substantial progress.
***
Kira pushed her bike, leaning into its handlebars for support as she crested the top of Superstition Mesa and angled toward the open area where she believed her brother had been working all day. She didn’t want to tell him about the bear, but when she approached him in the failing light, the grim expression etched onto his face inspired a reluctance to lie.
“What’s wrong?” she inquired, balancing her bike on its kick stand.
Algernon sat on a straw bale within the feeding shed they used as a temporary shelter. A pot of water boiled above his tin can stove. He threw a couple of dry twigs into the inferno beneath the pot and hastened their burning with a stream of breath, then lifted and dropped his tea cachet several times. The boy arose, embraced his sister and kissed her cheek. She smelled sweaty, and her damp skin left a salty taste on his lips.
Kira returned his greeting and looking into his fearless eyes, repeated her question.
“You’re really late,” he replied. “I was worried about you.”
The girl dropped her gaze to the ground, nervous and uncertain of where to begin. “I brought books from the library,” she said, ignoring his statement and trying to brighten the mood with a smile. “One’s on new discoveries in astronomy and the other’s a text book on calculus.” Kira knew that her brother found these two topics fascinating, and she hoped that by diverting his attention to the books she could escape his disappointment.
But he approached her again, gently lifting her chin with a single finger. “I worried about you, Kira. At least honor my concern with an explanation. The truth would be nice.”
Prior to rescuing her in Kameron, Algernon often expressed disapproval with raging condemnation of his sister’s dishonorable behavior. He’d been especially critical of her relationship with Astrid, as well as the soiled reputation Kira developed among the young men at the Temple for her promiscuity among them. Now, however, he never raised his voice and critical words seldom ventured from his lips; yet the defeat that appeared on his face whenever Kira did something of which Algernon didn’t approve hurt as much as any diatribe he’d shouted while they lived within the Sacred Enclosure.
Kira sighed, uncomfortable with the pressure for honesty Algernon had developed after he’d fallen in love with Astrid. “The interview for our land grant went long and I was late,” she began, telling a partial truth, “so I took the trail by the creek. Just before I reached the top I met a cave bear. I thought it was better to go back than to try to get around him.”
Algernon remained silent, but she could see his eyes moisten.
Kira couldn’t look at her brother. “I’m sorry!” she insisted. “They approved our application and I wanted you to hear the news right away!”
Algernon drew her into his embrace. He paused for a moment, breathing in the mineral scent lingering on Kira’s platinum hair from her habit of bathing in the hot spring. “My heart will break if I lose you again,” he told her. “Please, Kira! Your life is not your own. It’s mine as well.”
She held him until he pulled away. “But there’s been a setback . . .”
When Kira told her brother of the impending homestead inspection, she expected he’d become angry. Algernon angered easily. His quick temper and fighting skill terrified many people acquainted with him, but Kira knew that he would never hurt her physically. Besides, she could take care of herself, even against someone as deadly as her twin brother. “We have until next week,” she concluded. “So maybe we ought to focus on things like filling the fish larder and getting the foundation finished.”
Algernon nodded, then lifted the boiling tea off of his tin can cookstove and carefully poured its contents into a large mug he would share with his sister. “That may be the least of our problems,” he told her, offering the mug after he dumped a previously cut cup full of vegetables into a pan for a stir-fry. He left the cookstove running to benefit from its warmth and light as darkness settled upon the landscape.
Kira washed her hands in a water basin, then sat next to her brother, sipping tea in silence as he related his discovery of the giant stronghold. She took a bowl of vegetables, along with a bit of pan bread that followed, from her brother’s skillet. Though she thought his cooking lacked flavor and creativity, Kira could do no better under the circumstances and made up her mind not to complain. Algernon dished the rest of the food out for himself, then washed his hands. Both he and his sister ate using only their fingers.
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Kira asked.
Algernon shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Giants are clever in some ways and really stupid in others. Setting up camp this close to Marvic shows that big heads don’t necessarily indicate intelligence.”
Kira chewed on her bread and pulled her legs up to her breast as a renewed bout of cramping gripped her abdomen. She voiced a concern she’d long suppressed out of worry that this discussion would quickly lead to an argument. “Maybe moving here wasn’t a smart idea. With giants around we’re not safe. Maybe we ought to settle in town.”
Though he didn’t want to hurt her feelings and subdued a surge of indignation that she’d think him too dense to comprehend the danger, Algernon wasn’t as careful with his response as he should have been. “What happens when word gets around that you’re back? Will you have guys knocking on Mrs. Bergen’s door in the middle of the night?”
“What a stupid thing to say!” Kira snapped, dumping her bowl on the floor. She arose and stalked into the deepening gloom, swearing shamelessly, disregarding repeated apologies and the pleas of her twin brother to return.
Algernon worried about her wandering around in the darkness alone. He put the lid on his cookstove and dashed out of the shelter to find her. With the long summer twilights fading into memory and the twin moons just beginning to rise in the east, only the barest hint of light enabled Algernon to catch a glimpse of Kira’s hair as she trotted down the well-trampled path toward the hot spring.
He followed, calling her name though she continued to ignore him, until he saw her pull her gown overhead and carefully step into the water. The young priest honored her privacy and turned away, berating himself for uttering such an ill-conceived remark. With Garrick deployed to Kameron the only social support Kira and Algernon could count on was their relationship with one another, and the marginally tolerant sister of High Priest Volker Pfaff–a widow named Mrs. Bergen–who lived alone in Marvic.
Living together again proved more difficult than Algernon had expected. As children they’d been extremely close, but the sibling bond had deteriorated during the time they lived at the Temple, and their old habit of speaking and acting impulsively often tore at the edges of their fragile relationship.
Algernon fought back tears. He didn’t want to live in Marvic, having dreamed for many years about building a home on Superstition Mesa. Besides, there were too many temptations lurking in the city, and Kira hadn’t had enough time to stabilize her emotions. If anything, she’d become more volatile as autumn transitioned toward winter.
Kira hadn’t been the same since he rescued her from Kameron. She’d become a moody, irritable girl who whined about pain as the work load on their homestead stretched the diminishing days into the fringes of darkness. Algernon wavered from acceptance, understanding and patience to irritation with her slacking, only to wrestle with guilt whenever annoyance with his sister’s infirmity rose to the forefront of his consciousness.
Cave bears and giants, bureaucrats and looming deadlines left him with a feeling of paralysis that only worsened their troubles. Snarling at Kira to vent frustration solved nothing, bringing to mind a Gottslena proverb: “When a fool utters the dark thoughts of his soul, he wounds the hearts of all whom he loves.”
Algernon took a worn towel from a hook he’d pounded into one of the shed’s posts, cleaned off Kira’s food bowl and refilled it with half the contents of his own. He walked back to the hot spring, feeling wounded that Kira wouldn’t respond when he spoke to her. Suspicious that her physical pain exceeded what she’d been willing to admit and worried that saying anything else would hurt his sister more than he’d already done, Algernon set the food and the towel on the edge of the spring, mumbled a “good night” and trotted back to the feed shed.
The girl, immersed to her neck in delightfully warm water, watched her brother depart with anger in her eyes. He’d been wrong to say such a horrid thing! Kira’s fragile self-esteem found solace in unspoken raging at her brother, yet when she imagined herself speaking these things to his face a surge of strong emotion erupted and she began to cry. During her brief experience as a slave Kira often longed for death, yet when she saw her twin brother standing in a dingy, Kamerese bar, demanding her freedom with a ferocity that terrified her captors, an old feeling of solidarity awakened.
Too long divided by thoughtless quarreling, torn asunder by addiction and wounded by lies both real and imagined, Algernon forgave Kira and offered her a chance to renew her life. Yet even the purest love did not erase the consequences of their actions, and the legacy of a dark past tainted their reconciliation and restoration. Poor choices made in the safety of the Sacred Enclosure thrust the young siblings into a dangerous world where the only hope of survival lay in trusting one another and working together. Kira couldn’t let their relationship continue to suffer.
Bright stars splashed the black heavens, their gradual movements declaring the advancing season. Gazing upward, the Tamarian girl noticed their pinpointed lights momentarily darkened by the soundless flight of an owl crossing overhead. She arched her back and stretched, the fatigue of a long day motivating sleepiness. Kira didn’t feel like eating the food that Algernon had left for her, so she arose, dried herself off, dressed and returned to the feeding shed, her warm body steaming in the cool air as she walked.
Algernon lay asleep in his hammock. Kira pulled the blankets she’d bought from the saddlebag of her bike, laid one of them over her brother and kissed his forehead. “I love you!” she whispered.
***
The twins arose early, their apologies exchanged in knowing looks and an embrace shortened by the urgent need to relieve themselves. Algernon had salvaged a multrum toilet from an abandoned farmstead and set it up on the knoll where the foundation of his planned home lay. Cold air caressed him, while dew that bent the golden grass heads brushed his tunic and stained its fabric as he strode through mist that diffused the predawn light.
They slapped hands, an affectionate gesture they’d been doing for as long as either could remember, as Algernon returned and Kira walked across the meadow to take her turn. Back at the feeding shed he found that Kira had already started a fire in the tin can cookstove and set out a pot of water for tea. After he’d warmed his hands, the young monk noticed that Kira’s towel hadn’t made it back onto the hook where it belonged. When he picked it up, Algernon noticed a watery bloodstain.
Glancing over his shoulder to ensure that his sister couldn’t see what he was doing, he checked her hammock. A small, dark blot lay in a place that made Algernon shudder. He swore in a very unpriestly manner, collected a small tin of cold water from the storage barrel and vigorously scrubbed the towel clean. He finished doing the same to her hammock and quickly hung up the towel as Kira reappeared.
“What are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.
“Just cleaning up,” he told her, omitting what he’d seen. “You left the towel on the floor when you came in last night.”
Though her raised eyebrows betrayed suspicion lingering in her mind, the girl said nothing more of this to her brother. They drank tea, ate breakfast, then held hands and chanted the holy prayer for this particular day of the year in unison, recalling it from hundreds of other prayers and sacred sayings long ago committed to memory.
A formal stretching session followed. Within weeks of her return to Tamaria strength and flexibility returned to Kira’s athletic body. Had she not been hooked on opium, no slave-trading thug could have so easily subdued her. Now, with the drug out of her system, agility and focused aggression made her formidable again.
Algernon stretched slowly and systematically, exercising every muscle group in his lean physique. He didn’t look strong, but Kira had seen Algernon bend a fighting bag the weight of a full-grown man in half with a single kick. The way he used his entire body endowed her brother with fearsome power, and part of his secret to such strength involved developing control over every muscle group and learning how to mass their combined efforts in delivering blows of devastating force.
Kira found him distant and distracted this morning, as if he was daydreaming about Astrid again. He did that a lot. Kira found it strange that a lesbian priestess with tiny breasts and no interest in boys had so captivated her brother’s attention. She didn’t want to think about Astrid, though. Once freed from its opium-induced shackles, Kira’s libido returned with a vengeance, and she found herself longing for a delight Astrid had shared with her that the priestess could not bear to imagine with Algernon. Kira struggled to assert self-control, confused about feelings she didn’t want to have, wishing she could leave all memory of her sexual relationship with Astrid behind.
The twins sparred together every day, having agreed not to grapple–where Algernon’s greater strength gave him an advantage over his smaller sister–and consenting to avoid body parts considered off-limits to siblings of opposite gender. While he’d been careful during their first few weeks together, Kira quickly reclaimed her natural aggression and Algernon soon found himself taxed to fight her off.
The unspoken worry for his sister’s health motivated a lackluster effort that Kira found strange. She’d slept well, felt aroused and strong, yet he seemed reluctant to engage her with the ferocity more typical of his fighting style. They exchanged hand blows and parries like young acolytes during their first few months of martial training, until Kira tired of this and attacked with a series of quick jabs and short kicks that put Algernon in retreat. She shuffle-stepped forward and launched a left-footed double front kick that caught her brother’s belly, then glanced off his left shoulder as he twisted in an effort to get out of her way. The first contact felt solid. Kira ducked to avoid his right-handed hook punch, and in doing so, torqued her torso around and slapped a fast knife-edged side kick into her brother’s right armpit.
He groaned and backed away, swearing. Algernon held out his hand in a warning posture while he struggled to control a wicked flash of temper that would have motivated an overwhelming response, had he been sparring with anyone other than Kira.
“What’s wrong, Algernon?” she inquired, her pleading eyes and worried tone of voice revealing genuine concern. “I’ve never been able to land that move on you before!”
The young priest breathed deeply, turning his back to hide an expression of pain that twisted his face into a grimace. That last kick had really hurt! “I just don’t feel like doing this,” he said, annoyed and frustrated.
Kira placed her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close. “It’s ok,” she soothed, kissing the back of his head. “We can do something else.”
Algernon appreciated her affection enough to forgive her. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll be back.” They slapped hands and he turned away.
Poverty and a total disregard for fashion limited Algernon’s wardrobe. He reserved his simple priestly garb, a gift from High Priest Volker, for excursions into town and normally wore a pair of breeches and a long sleeved shirt Kira had bought at a thrift shop for work around the homestead. Whenever either of the twins took a cleansing bath, as opposed to a soak for comfort, they washed their clothes, too.
Rather than permitting her brother to wear wet garments he’d just washed, Kira splurged for a second pair of pants and made Algernon a shirt from heavy fabric that had once adorned the windows of a wealthy household in Marvic, only to be discarded at one of Marvic’s “Neighborhood Pride” re-use centers. Kira cut a dress for herself out of the rest of the cloth, but after wearing it in town once and enduring the laughing scorn of girls who recognized its origin, on her more recent excursions to Marvic Kira wore the white linen gown Brenna’s mother, Alexina, had given her in Kameron.
“I know we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Kira began after her brother returned, “but you really need to talk to the army people about the giants today.” Her determined expression indicated an intent to pester him about this and not back down until he complied with her demand.
Algernon glanced at the Daystar, whose smudged light peered weakly through the mist. “We’ll go this afternoon,” he said reassuringly. “But let’s get some fishing done, first. We can stop at Mrs. Vandegraff’s on the way.”
Algernon wanted to ask Kira how she was feeling, but he didn’t wish to start another conflict and the strength of her kick indicated she could vigorously defend herself should the need arise. Nonetheless, he thought that with giants in the area, it would be best for them to stay together.
Through the cool, morning mist the twins rode their bicycles down the bumpy trail leading to a road that connected Marvic to many market garden farms. The area lay within a narrowing, heavily-treed, northwest-leading valley between the heights of the Superstition Range to the west and the high bluffs overlooking the broad, gentle slopes rising from the northern shore of Fallen Moon Lake. They laughed as they raced downhill, the cold morning air numbing their skin and dancing through Kira’s lengthening hair. For a moment they felt like children again; a sense of being carefree and emotionally close enveloped them in a warmth that belied the chill of approaching autumn.
Merging onto the junction of the farm service road, Kira and Algernon pedaled steadily and silently uphill. Sweat soon replaced the dull discomfort of cold on their flesh. Rich soil thinned as the elevation rose, until dairy farming became the major occupation along the western fringes of the road.
Since they’d returned from Kameron, Algernon and Kira had been regularly helping a widow named Mrs. Vandegraff. The slim, wispy-haired woman, who had lost her husband during Tamaria’s recent war with the Azgaril, had three young boys and struggled to manage her family’s small herd of spotted cows on her own.
Neighbors pitched in to keep the operation running until her boys were old enough to pick up the slack. Algernon cleaned out her barns every other day, while Kira looked after the children. This permitted the widow Vandegraff to complete household chores, and also connected the Ravenwood twins to the larger community. The siblings quickly established a reputation as decent, hard working young people, earning the respect of residents who expressed worry about the location of their planned homestead.
An hour later, Algernon and Kira bade the widow Vandegraff farewell and headed north along the gravel road. Mixed forest descended from the heights of Superstition Mesa on their right, and as the path turned to approach the current of Augury Creek, the distance between Algernon and his sister widened.
While he paused to let her catch up, the young priest greeted and blessed an old farmer named Ernst Fischer, who drove an electric truck owned by the local market garden Co-op. Over the summer, the twins had met most of the local people and knew them by name. Mr. Fischer was on his way into town, delivering produce, eggs and milk. To satisfy the old man’s curiosity, Algernon explained the odd contraption he’d secured to his bike frame with rope. “I use it for fishing,” he said.
Both siblings brought six foot dowels they used to extend their reach into the depths of favored fishing holes. Kira had fashioned nets using the rims of old cans and torn window screen mesh that when tied to the ends of their dowels, enabled them to dip into a series of deep depressions in the rock face formed by a waterfall descending from the mountain heights. Using these hand-crafted tools they’d been catching andromonous fish returning from the ocean to spawn.
Silver-backed sea trout rested in these pools before leaping against the current to the next set, and thus the depressions served as a natural fish ladder. This feature also attracted other predators, like glacier gulls, whose long legs, sharp eyesight and deadly quickness made them exceptionally effective at plucking the migrating fish out of the water. And, though this region lay above the elevation of their typical range, grizzly bears also frequented the site.
Mr. Fischer warned Algernon to be careful, then beeped his horn and waved to Kira as she approached. Field hands nearby paused to watch the twins vanish up a trail that led into the forest as it followed Augury Creek to the waterfall. The farm workers returned to their tasks, unaware of the danger the siblings soon confronted.
Gloom prevailed within the forest canopy, and in the damp stillness of early morning yellowed leaves, dripping dew and hanging limply from mossy branches, bade a cold welcome to the young monk and his sister. The trail broke up where erosion from heavy rain left ruts in dark soil, baring roots that dangled in the midst of the track and forced the twins to leave their bikes behind.
Overwhelmed by the roar of falling water, neither Algernon nor Kira sensed any threat until they climbed the steepest part of the trail, turned a bend and entered a clearing. The sounds of a large, angry animal mingled with distressed cries uttered in a language similar to their own. From across the bank they heard young trees snap and saw thickets of riparian shrubs that fringed ranks of dying sedges shake as if tossed by a fierce wind.
Out of the mist-enshrouded foliage a giantess emerged, striding in terror to escape a gravid and infuriated cave bear that plunged into the water in hot pursuit. The giantess leaped out of the creek bed and onto the large boulders that lined its near edge, but the pregnant she-bear swatted the giant’s legs and knocked her face down in a singular blow. With quickness and agility that belied her tremendous size, the sow scrambled upon her quarry, pinning her down. She clamped the giant’s head within her brawny jaws and tore into humanoid flesh with broad, powerful and trenchant claws.
The giantess screamed! A pitiful, horrible cry erupted from her lips that spoke to a sisterhood residing within Kira’s soul, and had the Tamarian girl not responded in that moment, the cave bear would have quickly torn the giant’s head from her shoulders.
Disregarding the obvious danger, Kira charged toward the mauling monster with the rage of a warrior belting from her lungs. Her martial skill, honed from many years of impatient practice, instantly turned the wooden dowel she used for fishing into a deadly weapon.
“Kira!” Algernon cried. “What are you doing?”
The girl didn’t even hear her brother. Kira planted her feet firmly and twisted her torso. The staff whisked overhead as she slammed the hardwood dowel down on the cave bear’s snout. With tremendous speed Kira twirled the weapon around and caught the bear’s lower jaw as the great beast turned to vent its rage on a new target.
Algernon raced forward, shouting to distract the creature and draw the sow’s attention away from his sister. “Up! Up!” he yelled. “Get it up on its hind legs!”
For all her agility and fighting skill, Kira could not match the cave bear’s quickness. When the beast caught her right thigh with a mammoth swipe, the girl’s body flew backwards from the tremendous force of the blow. Instinctively, Kira turned her momentum into a spinning kick that struck its snout hard as she rolled away and recovered. Fighting a terror that urged her to flee, the girl extended her staff so that as the bear charged it met the hardened end first. Searing affliction stabbed at her right leg, but Kira knew pain like an old nemesis and stared it down with the force of sheer will.
With its attention riveted on the slender Tamarian girl, the charging bear felt the butt of Kira’s dowel jam deeply into its throat. The creature skidded to a stop and scuttled backward, thrashing its great head side to side while pawing at the shaft.