Sentience, page 11
part #1 of Farm Land Series
I looked up at him. “Why?” I asked, feeling hot wind blow about my face, offering no relief.
His tanned face crumpled into a frown. “No one could tell you,” he said, “but thick air brings thunder and lightning, and then come the rains. That is the way it is.”
Skye walked off towards Thorn. They were knapping flint together, a task they were both skilled at. Knapped into sharp points, flint could be used as spear points, or knives. They made curved, flat blades too, good for scraping the fibres from flax, or skin from roots.
I watched him go. Skye never said hello or goodbye, he just seemed to appear, or disappear. There when I needed help, absent when I didn’t. It must be his gift of Reaching, I thought. That is how he knows when I need help and when I don’t.
Bracken walked over, with Ash behind her. She indicated I was to drop the rushes. “Leave the reeds,” she said. “They are less of a priority now. We must ensure the food stores are well stocked. These will be our last few weeks to gather supplies. When we can fit in the drying of reeds, we will, around the gathering of food.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You and Ash are joining Skye this afternoon,” she said. “You can pull the wagon as he loads it with food. Mushrooms will be coming out now the thunder is here, and we need to dry them in the round houses before the rains come.”
“What about now?” I asked. Afternoon was hours away.
“Help Fletcher and Bay this morning,” she said. “They need to gather enough stores of plants to make medicine throughout the rains.” She put a hand to my shoulder. “This is your first season of thunder. Were you scared to hear it?”
“At first I was. But Skye told me all was well.”
“And you believed him,” she said; it was not a question.
“Yes.” I frowned. “Should I not have?”
“You mistake me,” she said. “I’m not questioning his words, or your belief in them. It pleases me that you trust Skye. You have been nervous of men.”
I flushed and dropped my eyes. “You understand why.”
Bracken nodded. “I do,” she said gently. “But there comes a time when trust is needed between us all, and so it is pleasing to see you are making that bond with another in the village.”
“I don’t think Skye or Thorn would hurt me.”
“That is trust, child. I hope soon you will feel it for all the others, too.” She turned to Ash. “You two head for the clearing. Fletcher and Bay are already there.”
Ash grinned at me. “Come, Holt,” she said. “We must race the raindrops.”
I looked up, as though it would rain any moment, but above us was just the uncanny, hazy light of the burning skies, and the oppressive, sticky air.
“Just a saying,” Ash said. “It means we must make haste before the rains come.”
*
It was hard to do anything in the heavy air of the season of thunder. My clothes stuck to my skin. We did not merely sweat in the heat, but became as the silky, shining water of the streams itself; creatures made of water, slippery to the touch.
The heat of the sun had become stuck in the thick soup of air that swam around us. I tried to work as fast as the others to gather and to store, to repair huts, or stack logs, but every move I made got slower as we toiled, and every day I woke with a feeling of heavy strangeness. It was as though I woke, but remained trapped in a world of dreams. A dense fog grew around me, invisible, yet stronger each day.
Thunder rolled over us from morning and through the night. It wrested me from half-dreams where I could hardly see the shapes that moved around me in the muffled, dark world of shadows. In my dreams, faces would loom out of nowhere; my mother, the man who had hurt me, faces of the masters. I woke often as I struggled backwards, my hands thrashing the air before my face.
As time went on, the skies started to glow; erratic mixtures of colour and light; a golden haze, mingled with sharp pinks and brilliant purples shifted and danced over us. Waves of light streaked across the heavens and bolts of lightning tore the heavy skies with luminous, shattering radiance.
But still there was no rain, no relief, no break from the oppressive weight of the air.
The lights of the forest altered from fresh green to an uncanny blue. The people around me started to look as alien as the Farmers, and my tired mind became more and more fogged with weariness and the weighted, dragging air. I began to jump backwards when I saw people. The queer light made familiar faces strange and fearsome.
“Holt,” a voice came through the fug as I loaded leaves onto the cart. I looked up dully at the face that loomed at me through the eerie blue light.
I felt as though I knew the face, but I could not remember it.
“Holt,” the voice said again and I nodded.
“I am loading,” I said. Words fell from my mouth. I put a hand to my lips, but I could not feel my fingers.
Suddenly strong hands grabbed me. I shouted out in fear.
“Stay still,” the voice said. “You have not drunk enough water. You’ve overheated your body. If you don’t cool down you will die. I am helping you.”
“No, no, no, no, no…” I said weakly over and over. My head was bouncing around like a ripe seed pod and the floor wavered and danced under my eyes, making me nauseous.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said the voice. “I would never hurt you.”
And then, a sudden flash of coldness flooded my body and mind. I choked. My head disappeared beneath the waters of the stream. I emerged, coughing and spluttering. Cold, surprised, angry and chilled, I broke through the surface, but my head was clear and my eyes could see.
“Stay in the water,” said a voice from the bank. I looked up and saw Skye sitting on a rock, staring at me. “Drink,” he continued. “You must cool your blood, or you will overheat.”
My teeth chattered. “I feel cold now.”
Skye shook his head. “It’s not real,” he said. “Wait a moment, then you will understand how hot your blood has become. We have lost many to thunder-sickness.”
Obediently, I squatted, and was surprised to find the water around me warming up. I put a hand into it and sucked water from my fingers.
I couldn’t believe I had not felt the thirst in my throat before now. Horrible dryness made me choke and cough, and I fought to get water down my throat fast, without drowning myself in the process.
Skye nodded at me and continued to sit on his rock.
It took some time before my raging thirst was in any way close to being quenched, more time before my body stopped heating the water around me. But eventually, I started to feel cool.
“Thank you,” I said as he put out a hand to pull me from the water. Skye smiled. It made his face almost unbearably handsome. I stopped, holding his hand, standing in the water, as I looked into his face, marvelling at its beauty.
“Did you want to get out?” he asked, looking at me strangely. I blushed and nodded.
He pulled me from the water and up onto the rock. As he pulled me up, he failed to step back, and I found myself face to face with him, standing closer than I had to anyone, whilst awake, since I came to the village.
For a moment, we stared at each other, my hands against his broad chest. Water flowed from me onto him, and the wetness of my clothes stuck to the moist heat of his chest.
I had never felt anything more solid than him. For a moment, my heart seemed to have stopped beating. I felt the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath on my skin. I looked up into his blue eyes and saw a softness in them.
For a moment, I wondered what his lips would feel like, against mine.
And then, my heart leapt back into life and I jumped. I tried to pull my hands from his and get away. I knew nothing but panic and fear.
Softly, Skye released my hands and moved backwards, offering, without me asking, the space I needed to calm the horror in my heart.
I dropped my eyes to the floor; ashamed of my feelings of fear. I shook my head. “I am sorry,” I said.
“You have no cause to be,” Skye said softly. “You do not need to apologise, not to me, not to anyone.” I looked up at him. His eyes were gentle and calm. There was no predatory stare in them. I thought I caught pity in his eyes, and I screwed up my mouth, fighting back tears.
“I don’t want you to pity me,” I said.
“Pity you?” he asked, sounding shocked. “I don’t pity you. I am sorry for what you have endured, but that is not the same thing as pity.” He paused. “You carry scars, like many of us. They are not on your skin, but inside your soul. I see them. Those scars show that something terrible was done to you, but do not think, when I look at you, that I pity you for them. I do not. You faced something horrific, and survived. I admire you.”
I was taken aback and for a moment we stood in silence. I touched his mind as gently as I could. I had the feeling he was holding me back from seeing it clearly, but I also had the impression he felt affection for me. But something else was clear; he wanted nothing of me unless I was willing to give it freely. Something in me wanted to offer him affection in return, but I wasn’t ready.
“I will wait,” he said, hearing my thoughts inside his mind.
I flushed deeper and pulled my arms around me, partly in confusion and partly to block out the chill now washing over me.
“Come,” he said, extending a hand. “You will rest in the cart on the way back.” I started to protest, but he held up a hand. “Let it be understood that I have more experience here than you,” he said and smiled. “I know better than you how to treat thunder-sickness.”
I smiled shyly. Skye brought me back to Ash, who stood waiting for us. He helped me onto the cart, where I sat amongst the leaves and mushrooms as he and Ash strapped themselves on, and pulled us trundling home.
Chapter Seventeen
Visitors
The season of thunder was like the whirling mass of a strange dream. Bright shades of pink and purple, of green and gold and blue danced in the skies. Thunder rumbled through the air, shaking the ground and everywhere, creatures I had not known we shared the forest with, started to emerge and scuttle for cover.
“That is a lizard,” Bracken told me as we watched a thin, long green creature, about the size of my arm slink from one side of the village to the other. “We have to chase them out of the store rooms, sometimes.”
“Are they like frogs?” I asked. Bay had pointed out frogs to me at the pond and Fletcher had told me what they were called. Dragonfly young ate them.
“A little,” Bracken said. “They have cold blood, like frogs. There used to be other things like them, called snakes. They were a lot more dangerous. When they bit, they released poison, but we haven’t seen them for years.”
“What happened to them?”
“Spiders,” she said. “We used to find bits of snakes hanging in their webs in the valley.”
The rains were coming, and the feel of their approach filled the atmosphere with wary anticipation. Each day was busier than the last. Mushrooms, now popping up overnight in the forest, were gathered and dried in the roof of the round house over the fire. Their yellow bellies curled and browned as smoke washed over them through the night and day, and then they were taken away to the store houses. Fruits were gathered in, dried in the same way, as it was too damp to dry anything outside. Tubers were cut into strips, and made into garri mash, or dried above the flames. Wood was ripped from dead trees in the forest, and taken to a store, where platforms kept the wood from the ground. Some vegetables were salted, packed with the silky white substance from the seas, which drew out moisture, keeping them from rotting. As we gathered, fat caterpillars crawled away from our busy hands, sometimes rearing up if we got too close. We were warned not to touch them. Some had hairy backs, and the hairs could cause our skin to become irritated. The store houses were bulging, but Bracken told me we had to gather more.
“Sometimes we run into trouble,” she said, “if the season of rain is long. Remember, we cannot gather much when the rain comes, so we must make sure we have enough to live on.”
As we woke one morning in the round houses, there came a noise outside of the village, of many great feet walking towards us with purpose.
Greetings.
I heard the voice in my head. Mother?
Indeed, came the reply. We are impressed you are able to hear us. My children have come to offer a gift before the coming of the rain.
I looked at Bracken. Her face was contemplative as she listened to the march of the many feet. She turned to me. “The Farmers have come,” she said quietly.
“Mother sent them,” I replied. Bracken frowned.
“You can hear her?” she asked. I nodded and Bracken’s frown deepened. “How is that possible when I cannot?” she asked and I shrugged. I didn’t know.
We clambered from the room, heavy with the funk of our hot bodies, and climbed into the open air. Around the edge of the village, a ring of Farmers stood, waiting patiently and politely. Each of them carried food in their hefty mouths.
Bracken beckoned Skye and me over to her. “Don’t say anything to the others,” she said quietly. “But I believe the coming of the Farmers may indicate a harder wet season than we are used to. Father spoke of this only once. They brought gifts to the village on the coming of a long rain. I’m not sure, but this may be the same. I don’t want to cause worry unduly.”
Skye nodded to her with solemn eyes, and then at me.
Friends, Bracken’s voice sounded inside my head as she greeted the Farmers. You are far from home, and we are honoured by your visit.
The rains come, said a voice. And we who have much, give to you who have little.
The Farmers opened their jaws and from each dropped one of the large, precious beans. It was a haul that would have taken the village weeks to gather, and would feed us for months.
We thank you, said Bracken, looking wonderingly at the pile of food.
The rains come, said the voice, and the times will be hard. We have enjoyed the peace between us and would enjoy more with you.
You are generous, said Skye, and we thank you for your gift and your wisdom.
Your new one is quiet, said the voice of Mother. Are you happy with your name, Holt?
It is the greatest gift given to me, I said.
We are pleased to have pleased you, said Mother, sounding amused.
I am pleased to have allowed you pleasure in pleasing me, I said and was rewarded with a little snort of laughter from Skye.
You are an amusing child, said Mother. We, who can recall eons, have so little humour in them to remember. Life can often be nothing but the hardest of struggles; your spirit is fresh to us, interesting.
There was a pause.
Bracken? said Mother.
I am here, friend, she said.
Holt has a singular lightness to her touch, she said. Her words come to us without effort. Her gift is different to yours. Teach her to use it and she will be a powerful asset to your people. We will look forward to hearing her, when the sun comes once more.
It will be as you say, said Bracken. Long have we valued the wisdom of you and your people.
As we have enjoyed knowing your colony, she said. We wish you a short reason of rain, and the survival of all your people.
And the same to you, said Bracken, and she paused, looking worried. Does this gift indicate the season of rain will be longer? That it will be harder than last season?
Sometimes wind and earth speak to us, said Mother. Not in the way we speak to you, but in feeling. Their message is never clear, but we feel a warning, a caution whispered not in words. You have prepared as well you can, this we know, but take these last few days and prepare more. We should like to see as many of you as we see now, when the rains cease.
There was a pause as Bracken bit her lip worriedly
We will meet again, when rain ceases to fall from the skies, said Mother.
When rain ceases to fall, echoed Bracken.
For now, farewell, Bracken, Skye, Holt, said Mother, and relay our messages to your people who hear us not. When the rains are done, we will speak again.
The Farmers walked away, leaving the huge pile of food in a mound on the ground.
“What did they say?” asked Leaf as the Farmers wandered off through the woods. Skye and I looked at Bracken carefully.
Bracken took in a long breath. “The wet season will be long and hard,” she said. “The Farmers have brought us gifts of food to aid us.” She looked around at the suddenly solemn faces before her.
