Angry Hands Read online



  Angry Hands

  L. Christina

  Copyright 2013 L.Christina

  Contents

  Map of Pangea

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Endnotes

  Other books by L. Christina

  Prologue

  A bird flew over the outskirts of Sol—a large crow. He lazily surveyed the terrain below. The flat desert swept up into low hills. Juniper trees, piñon pines, and scrub oak took the place of cactus and sage. An occasional cluster of manzanita hid among the large boulders. Gullies and dry riverbeds scarred the red sand floor.

  The bird caught an upward draft and circled high. He looked for easy prey among the various grasses, a small mammal that might be inattentive or a half-eaten carcass that he could pinch. The flying scavenger eyed four mud huts squatting like turtles in the sun. Smoke came from the fire pit of one. Nothing there.

  Farther out he spied an odd sight and glided over to investigate. Something half buried and barely moving in a dry riverbed. A vulnerable animal perhaps? No, just one of the two-legged animals that would chase him off if he got too close to their food. He flapped off.

  The sun was high and the sand warm but not yet uncomfortably hot. Dethina had taken off her shift, folded it nicely beside her, and lay down in the sandy bottom of the dry riverbed. She smiled in pleasure as she picked up handfuls of sand and poured them over her body. Several piles of sand already covered her by the time he approached. He would be angry. Let him. She didn’t care; the warm sand was such a rare pleasure for her.

  “Is that you, Deer Rider?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, it’s me,” Laiden answered curtly.

  She’d known who it was. Her eyes were blind, but her senses identified his footsteps as surely as his eyes identified her. She wished it were Deer Rider.

  “He’s gone. Put your shift on. I’ll take you home,” Laiden continued.

  “Laiden,” Dethina’s voice cajoled softly, “take off your shirt and lie in the sand, just for a little while.” She sighed. “It’s just now perfect.”

  Laiden clamped his jaw; yes, it was a wonderful feeling to lie in the warm sand. He’d done it before.

  At his silence, Dethina sighed again, this time in resignation. She stood up. Patches of sand stuck to her body, and she began to dust them off.

  Laiden knew he should turn around, but he watched, mesmerized. His heart thumped, and his hand gripped his spear tightly. She had no idea how sensual she looked slowly running her hands down her body.

  Laiden tried to bring himself under control. “Hurry up.” Jealousy of Deer Rider made his voice sharp.

  With graceful motions—she always used graceful motions—she bent down and, with unerring accuracy, picked up her shift and floated it over her head. Then she leaned over again and retrieved her tapping stick.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Laiden turned, and Dethina followed his gravel-crunching steps out of the riverbed.

  Chapter 1

  Laiden hadn’t intended to stay so long in the small village. He’d left his home in Sol and wandered for two annums, visiting the endless water, the dry desert, and the rolling hills that led to the Back Bone mountain range. He had followed the steep mountain trails all the way to the eternally cold land of Brumal before returning to the land of sun.

  It had been late in the afternoon when he heard the disturbance, the voice of a man yelling, “Off. Off with you,” and animals growling in return. Laiden hurried to the sight of the commotion and looked into the bottom of a dry riverbed.

  Backed against the gully wall, a determined hunter brandished his spear at two wolves. A partially skinned elk lay between them. Obviously, the smell of the fresh kill had lured the wolves, and the man, outnumbered but unwilling to give up his catch, was in a face-off with them. Laiden picked up a good-sized rock and hurled it toward the menacing animals. In wary surprise, they looked at him. Realizing they no longer had the upper hand, the wolves circled then reluctantly snarled away .

  The hunter looked up at Laiden. “My friend, good timing.” By the time Laiden sidestepped down the incline, the man had resumed dressing the elk carcass. “I better get what I can before they return.” He kept working but took a brief glance at Laiden’s sleeveless man’s’ shirt. “We don’t get many visitors. You a Sun?”

  Laiden pulled out his knife and began helping the man. “Yes, I’ve been wandering.”

  “We’d be honored to have you stay with us. I’m Dieth by the way.”

  “I’m Laiden. Thanks, I’d like to stop for a while.”

  The two men butchered what they could and left the rest for the wolves. They made two large packs and secured them with some excellent, high quality cord that Dieth produced. Laiden fingered the thick strand. There were no kinks in it, and it wound easily, not like the quick cord he made himself. “Nice cord,” he said offhandedly.

  Dieth nodded. “My daughter makes it,” he said proudly.

  The men shouldered the weighty burdens and started back to the village. “Caris, my life bond, will want to thank you for chasing the wolves off. She makes tasty food. You’ll enjoy it.”

  Laiden followed Dieth up and down the sandy gullies. “You’d have trouble finding our village on your own,” Dieth said. “We’re a small village, only four huts.” The heavy loads and the rough terrain made conversation difficult. The men were quiet for a while as they hiked single file. When the path flattened out again, Dieth said, “Only two more hills.” The light would be fading soon. The men walked quickly. Dieth puffed a few breaths. “I have a daughter, Dethina, named after me.”

  “Hm.” Laiden grunted.

  “She can’t see,” Dieth continued.

  Laiden made no comment but inwardly raised his eyebrows. Life must be difficult for her. She was probably a burden to the village.

  The sun dropped past the horizon, and the animals of twilight emerged before Dieth said, “Not much farther. The others will be watching for me.”

  Evening darkness dropped just as two men jogged out to unburden them. As the meat changed hands, Dieth introduced them as Bront and Treefrog. Bront was a giant of a man with a deep voice. Too bad he hadn’t been at the hunt, Laiden thought. He could have carried the entire carcass by himself. Treefrog was a smaller, younger man.

  Once in the village, Laiden could make out a line of four huts. In front of them, a ceremonial fire pit presided instead of the usual tribal lodge of larger villages. Someone had started a fire there, and the aroma of roasting venison soon joined that of aromatic cedar. Silhouettes of the villagers whooped and hooted as Dieth finished an embroidered story of the hunt. The happy conversation continued until sizzling pieces of meat were finally pulled off and passed around. After some brief objections about burning fingers the group grew quiet as they ate.

  Laiden noticed his host ignored the ancient traditions of the larger villages. In a well established village the evenings activities would have been ordered and formal. Here, there were no blessing herbs, no giving thanks, and certainly no official Wise One. Laiden shrugged. He missed the familiar customs; they defined boundaries, but apparently, they were too much trouble for this small group to maintain.

  Firelight refl
ected off the celebrants, and Laiden studied them as they laughed and chatted. There was Dieth, the hunter, and his life bond, Caris, as well as the blind daughter, Dethina. Of all the celebrants, the blind girl was silent and reserved, now and then tilting her head to catch snatches of conversation. Her movements were slow and deliberate, graceful.

  The big man, Bront, had bonded with Sodi, who had a personality to match his size, friendly and talkative; she spoke with an authoritative, strong voice. They were well suited to each other. Laiden marveled; they had found the perfect match for each other even in this remote outpost.

  The third hut housed Treefrog, the small, handsome man who had come to help carry the haunches in. His family consisted of a small woman, nicknamed Birdsong for her frequent singing, and their twin sons, who were just starting to walk. To Laiden the two looked like one. It was rare for a woman to have a litter of more than one child and even rarer for them both to live. In such cases, Sol custom advised offering one newborn to the Water God thereby ensuring enough resources so that the other could survive.

  Birdsong’s parents, Mora and Orey, occupied the last hut. Orey’s smile was missing a tooth, and he had more gray hair than black. But he was good natured and used a frail arm to clap Laiden on the shoulder. “Lucky for Dieth you came by when you did.”

  When the excitement died down, Dieth turned to Laiden. “You’ll stay in our hut?”

  Laiden shook his head. “I’ll sleep under the stars.” He shook out his sleeping mat next to the dying fire.

  The next morning Laiden sat on a log bench outside the hut of Dieth and Caris. He watched Dethina, the young blind woman, use a deer rib to scrape the elk skin that her father had brought in the night before. Her hands moved with short quick movements deftly removing the remaining bits of flesh. She was doing a thorough job he admitted grudgingly.

  Caris handed Laiden a pottery cup of juniper tea and a spice-cooked cactus paddle. “Thanks.” He smiled. As Dieth had promised, his bonded made tasty food.

  Laiden looked around as he crunched the cactus paddle. The village was clean and well cared for. The mud huts looked solid. Behind the homes tools and supplies were stored in an orderly fashion. Caris had a neat pile of wood handy for her fire. A water jug rested nearby.

  “Would you like another?” Caris interrupted his musings. She knelt in front of her fire ring. The flat rocks that circled the hot coals were stained from use. Using a pair of wooden tongs, she lifted the cooked paddles into a basket.

  “No, thanks,” Laiden answered, suddenly alert. He noticed Dieth, Bront, and Treefrog stood together discussing something in low whispers and animated gestures. Now and then, he caught a furtive glance in his direction. His instincts usually served him well, and he wondered if he was in trouble. Some conclusion had been reached, and Laiden stood as the group approached him in a purposeful manner.

  Laiden gulped down the tea. “I’m leaving,” he offered.

  “No.” Dieth said. “We want you to stay.” He nodded sideways. “Young Treefrog here has never wandered. I wandered once, a long time ago. So did Bront.” Dieth paused. “Bront and I want to take Treefrog for a wander. We’d like to catch a forest wisent and bring it back here.”

  Laiden knew it was not uncommon for hunters to catch and hobble a live animal, blindfold it, and walk it back to their village under its own power. It saved men the backbreaking labor of packing it back themselves. Additionally, the animal was alive until it was needed for food. But it was much more difficult, and dangerous, to catch and hobble an animal rather than kill it. The three men were looking for excitement.

  “How long would you be gone?” Laiden asked. He quickly calculated that in order to catch a forest wisent the men would have to travel three or four days up the Back Bone mountains until they came to the wisent’s territory, another three of four days to catch one, and maybe as many as five to return.

  “The moon is smiling tonight. We’ll be back before it smiles again. None of us are anxious to be gone long,” Dieth answered.

  The turn of the moon would give Laiden time to think. During the last two annums he had been a welcome visitor in many villages. But he was tired of wandering. A turn of the moon would give him time to consider all the places he had stopped and were he would like to return to permanently.

  “We’ve wanted to go on this trip for a long time, but we’re reluctant to leave only one man behind.” Laiden deduced Dieth’s real concerns enclosed in the tactful words. Orey, Birdsong’s elderly father, would stay behind, but a younger man’s strength might be needed in a crisis.

  The three men looked hopefully at Laiden. Bront handed him an intricately carved, ivory knife. “I can trade this for your time.”

  Laiden hefted the piece and admired the design. “That’s excellent quality, Bront,” he said as he returned it. “But I couldn’t accept such a valuable item.” Laiden turned to Dieth. “But I will trade my time for some of your excellent cord, and I’ll enjoy Caris’s tasty food while you’re gone.” The village men gave a brief cheer at their good fortune, and then made hasty plans to leave.

  After a morning of excited commotion and packing, the three men left the village and hiked up the path that led to the Back Bone mountains.

  Chapter 2

  Caris’s small campfire made only a splash of light against the darkness of the desert. She worked at grinding the juniper berries that she used for tea and venison marinade. Dethina, the sightless girl, had finished cleaning the elk hide and now worked on softening it. Outside one of the other huts, Laiden could hear the soft conversation of Sodi and the elderly couple, Mora and Orey. Birdsong had already taken her two young sons to bed.

  “It’s so quiet without the men,” said Caris. “I hope they’re not gone too long.”

  Laiden hid a smile; the men just wanted a little adventure. “They’re three capable hunters; they’ll be back in no time.”

  Dethina stopped scraping for a moment. “I wonder if they’ve seen any wisent yet.”

  “Probably not,” Laiden answered. “They’ll have to hike a couple more days before they’re high enough to find any.”

  Caris packed her berries away, and then filled a bowl with grass seeds and water to soak overnight. “I think my day’s done.” She stood. “Laiden, will you be comfortable for the night?”

  “Yes, I’m going to unroll my sleeping mat here by the fire.”

  “Good night.” Caris ducked into her hut followed by Dethina.

  Laiden pillowed his hands behind his head and looked at the stars while he considered his future. It hadn’t been a huge sacrifice to agree to stay while the three village men wandered. He had been to the bottom of Sol, both sides, and had worked his way past the top and deep into the mountains. He was tired of wandering, but where to settle? For now, he put the question out of his mind and allowed his thoughts to drift in a different direction. He needed to make more spearheads. He must ask Orey, the old man, where he could find some sharprock for making the weapon.

  Laiden just finished rolling his sleeping mat when Caris and Dethina emerged from their hut. After brief greetings, Dethina asked her mother, “Should I get water?”

  “Yes. We’re low,” Caris answered as she began preparing some morning food.

  The young blind woman easily located the pottery jug used for water before turning toward Laiden. “Would you like me to show you where we get water?”

  Laiden raised an eyebrow. He could see for himself the line of greenest trees in the distance and knew they grew at the source of water. Besides, the girl couldn’t possibly make a hike that far by herself. Laiden kicked himself; he was probably expected to babysit this girl while the men where away. “Sure.”

  Dethina cocked her head at the muttered response.

  “I’ll carry the jug,” Laiden offered as he took it from her hands. She picked up what she called her tapping stick and started out in front of him, tapping the ground in front of her as she walked. Laiden followed behind, single file
. He felt a perverse desire to see the girl stumble and be forced to ask for help. Instead her progress baffled him. They had walked a good distance toward the trees, and her steps had been sure and flawless on the familiar trail. They were approaching a fork in the path, and Laiden wondered if she would falter. Her stick struck an identifying rock at the side of the path, and she stopped. “The stream is closer from this path,” she said, pointing left. Then she turned right. “But I go this way; it’s farther, but the footing is easier for me.” She tapped the rock again to position herself, and then continued on.

  Incredulous, Laiden finally asked, “You come this way by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you?” he blurted tactlessly.

  “For a village to survive, everyone has to carry their share,” she reminded him.

  Laiden conceded that this was true. A village couldn’t feed itself if it was full of slackers.

  Dethina continued. “I wasn’t always blind. Soon after I learned to walk, I got sick and lost my eyesight. Do you know what happens to sick babies?” The stick tapped back and forth in front of her.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  She continued as if he hadn’t. “They’re left in the middle of the stream for the Water God rather than let the God of Sickness take them. Against my mother’s wishes, I was left in the stream, but I crawled out on my own. She claimed the Water God didn’t want me yet. The village gave me a second chance, but only if I could do my share of work.”

  By now, they had reached the shade of the trees fed by a trickle of water dribbling from the layered rocks. Three body lengths from the headwater a dam had been built, making a small pond before the water escaped downstream. Dethina splashed her stick in the water to check its level. “This is our only source of water in the dry season. If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t be able to live here.” She pointed downstream. “There are three more ponds that also collect water.”

  Laiden dipped the jug in the water; it was a good weight when full, and he was forced to admit a reluctant respect for the girl. They started on the return trip.

  “There’s not much water now, but see all the gullies and dry riverbeds?” She waved an arm at the dry expanse. “When it rains, they fill with water faster than a deer can run. You must be very careful and stay on high ground if it rains.” She paused for Laiden to respond, but he remained silent. “Oh”—she made a self-deprecating laugh—“I guess you already know that. It must rain everywhere. I don’t know much about other places. How long have you been wandering?”