Azaria (2 page)

Fahim turned and addressed Azerban directly, but with a gentler tone, "What did you see?"

"Only that there were three," he replied, sure she'd see through his deception.

"Who were they? Did you see their clothing? How old were they?" Fahim questioned him more forcefully.

"I didn't see them, they were gone too quickly."

Fahim's growing annoyance was visible. She'd never been particularly skilled at masking it. "Surely you saw more than that," she demanded. "Did you not see any details of their garments? How is it you cannot even tell us their ages? Were they fully grown or immature?"

"Not by choice, Ta'araki. But they must have been younger," Azerban said. He was flustered internally, but would not allow his nerves to betray him. He kept his tone mild and his hand steady. "They followed the wind and were under cover before I could make out any details."

Fahim glared at him for a long while, clearly skeptical, but finally ended the questioning. "If they were Kebar we can expect reprisal attacks. If there is nothing else you will tell us, it is unfortunate." He winced at her choice of words. "Azerban," she directed. "Take one with you and follow their tracks. I want to know who these spies were."

"Yes, Ta'araki," he answered. "Hadir, come with me," Azerban instructed his acolyte. Happy to be rid of Fahim's penetrating glare, he jogged off into the cedar grove, Hadir struggling to keep up with him.

Azerban followed the fresh footprints into the woods, and after a short while knelt down to inspect them more closely. But he'd already seen enough. He was only delaying, calculating how to handle his acolyte. The tracks were easy to follow. The three children had been careless in their haste. A small part of him was disappointed. They'd been taught better than this, to run without leaving a trail. But then again, he could hardly blame them. They were likely scared witless.

"So it looks like you were correct, Ta'araki," Hadir said upon catching up to him. He was still a young man counting twenty winters behind him. Azerban liked him, was proud in his decision to make him his acolyte. Although he wasn't known for his bravery - he could hardly throw a spear - he did possess other qualities Azerban admired. He was hardworking, loyal and dedicated to his pursuits. And where he lacked in physical prowess, he made up for in mental capacity. To his great frustration, Hadir had never been one to attract the eye of the females. He was tall enough, but on the portly side, with no clear muscle definition and a rounded face. Azerban was sure he'd see better suns though. ‘
As he rises through the ranks of the Ta'araki, the young women will surely take notice of him
,’ he'd told his mate more than once. ‘
Or at least their fathers will
,’ his mate had always answered.

"There were definitely three of them," Hadir went on. "It looks like a young woman and two young men. I'd say twelve winters, maybe thirteen. They all appear to be of fit build, and very fast, especially the girl and one of the boys. Exceptionally fast, I'd say. Ta'araki, come to think of it, this looks like it's-"

"I know who they are, Hadir," Azerban cut him off. He'd humored the boy for long enough, letting him show off in front of his superior. But his acolyte wasn't known for his tracking skills either. "The girl is my daughter and is fourteen winters. Dogahn was no doubt with her. The other boy was probably Tiriz. The three go off hunting and exploring together more and more lately."

"Ahhhh..." Hadir answered, wise enough to know he'd been put in his place. He regretted his fervor in trying to impress his elder. It wasn't the first instance he'd let that particular desire get the better of him. It’d been his downfall his entire life, trying to overcome his shortcomings by impressing others with his great intellect. It never seemed to work for him the way he wished it would. "Sorry, Ta'araki. I guess your daughter will be in a bit of trouble."

"I will take care of this, Hadir."

"Of course, Ta'araki," Hadir answered. "What do you think Ta'araki will do?"

"She’ll be angry and suspect I’m hiding something."

"So you mean not to tell her? But she gave you direct orders to-"

Azerban interrupted him again, more sternly now. "I told you, Hadir. I will take care of this. If Fahim questions you, tell her your tracking skills weren't good enough to discern any other information. She’ll believe you."

"Yes, Ta'araki," Hadir answered, his head hanging in front of him.

Azerban regretted his harshness, but it was necessary. He was sure his acolyte would do as instructed. Hadir had always been loyal to him first. It was part of the reason he liked him so much. He was more worried about his daughter, specifically how he should handle her trespass. It was a grave crime to spy on a Ta'araki gathering. How could she be so stupid? And of all the events Azaria could have chosen, why did she have to choose this particular one? He cursed her silently as they made their way back to the Temple, questions buzzing through his head like pesty water-flies. How should he handle the matter? Should he confront her? And her friends? Or should he pretend he never saw them? What if they told others of what they’d seen? Would they be smart enough to keep quiet? Azerban closed his eyes and shook his head, frustrated and confused. Even as they approached the Great Temple, his mind was swirling with indecision, a disposition he wasn’t use to. One he found he detested. Nevertheless the best path forward remained hidden and all were strewn with hazard.

The three young Natu did indeed follow the wind, each silent as they ran, lost in their own shock. Azaria led the way out of the cedar patch, toward a cliffside that shadowed the river below. Atop the steep cliff lay a trail which led back to Boar Camp. She knew there’d be little cover immediately ahead to hide if any Ta'araki had chosen to follow. But short of running through the high grasses just north, there was nothing to be done of it. Charging through the grasses would make too much noise and only slow them down, increasing the chances someone would catch up with them. And there was no way down to the river from here. They'd just have to run as fast as they could and hope for the best.

She didn't slow to a more moderate pace though, until she was sure the Ta'araki would not catch up. Luckily, the elders weren't known for their stamina or racing abilities. Her calf and thigh muscles ached. She couldn't remember ever keeping up a sprinters pace for so long. She could only imagine how Tiriz must feel, who'd never had any interest in becoming a Runner. She interlocked her hands behind her head and inhaled deeply, hanging her head back as she struggled to control her breathing.

As the three approached their camp, they were met by a small pack of large, black dogs. One of the canines ran straight at Azaria and jumped up to her, resting his gray paws on her shoulders and licking her face with vigor. "Hello Grayfoot!" she greeted him, scratching behind his sizable ears with both hands, happy for a comforting presence. His uncanny knack for arriving at the right moment always surprised her, but never more than now. He hopped down and ran circles around her, stopping only to sniff Dogahn and Tiriz, before jumping on her again. "Down, boy. I'm happy to see you too!" she said, pushing him off. She bent down and stroked the sleek fur along his back. His coat was shear, and his snout long and thin. His slim frame sat high atop lanky, but powerful legs. All four domesticated beasts sported the same athletic build, well-suited for chasing down the vast herds of gazelle that partly drove her ancestors’ nomadism. Only small variations differentiated one from another.

Azaria greeted the three other dogs, scratching the tops of their heads briefly before continuing on, with Grayfoot close on her heels. As they entered a sprawling, lively camp the other canines took off for more appealing interests.

Dogahn gripped her arm before they entered. “Azaria, what was that? What happened back there?”

“I... I don’t know,” she answered. It was the first moment in her life she'd had reason to question who she was - the proud daughter of an influential Ta'araki - and she didn't know quite how to deal with the unfamiliar wave of emotions sweeping over her. She'd always looked up to her father, respected him with great reverence, loved him without condition, delighted in his company and - every once in a while - feared him. Now she was baffled as to what she'd witnessed and distraught her father had been so clearly participating in an act he'd always taught her to be profane - the taking of another's life. Of course there were occasions when killing was considered justifiable - defending one's camp or loved ones - but this didn't seem to be one of those cases. She knew there must be a good explanation for what she'd seen. She just couldn't fathom what it might be. She turned her face away from him, her bottom lip quavering.

Dogahn put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward him. She looked up into those vivid, hazel eyes so many girls remarked upon and thought she was starting to realize why. "Well," he said gently. "We can't tell anyone what we saw. Let's never mention this to anyone else." She nodded gratefully and Tiriz confirmed the pact without the slightest of objections.

---

Accompanied by Grayfoot, Azaria approached her family’s shelter with trepidation. The walls of the squarish structure were constructed from large bricks consisting of a mixture of wet sand, clay, mud and straw, set out in the sun for a full moon to bake solid.

However impossible she knew it to be, Azaria feared her father would be waiting for her when she entered, the other Ta'araki standing sternly behind him.

She slowly drew back the overlapping leather flaps and was relieved to instead be greeted by her mother. "Azaria! You’re back early? Thank the Mother," Zephia said. "Can you help me with these young ones while I prepare our meal?"

Zephia's sister, Shaledar, had asked her if she'd tend to their young daughter. It was no problem, Zephia had told her, since she already had her youngest. At some point, three other of Quzo's young friends had shown up looking for their favorite playmate. The five had kept themselves entertained until now, but were becoming restless. Shaledar hadn't returned, and Zephia didn't know if the other children’s mothers even knew where they were.

"Yes of course, mother. I just need to wash off first," Azaria replied, grateful her mother was too busy to notice her agitated state. She set her hunting weapons down on a padded wool mat and after a quick walk to the river, sat down to five small children delighted to have her undivided attention. She played a favorite game with them involving small fowl bones and twigs until they tired of it.

"Tell us a story, Azaria," Quzo pleaded, Azaria's bratty but lovable little brother.

"Yes, pleeease!!" said Shaledar's child, Ania, who was slightly older than her young cousin.

Azaria sighed. They always wanted a story. Although she’d bored of the tale long ago, she knew which one would hold their attention longest. "Yes, yes, little ones. Settle down and I will tell the Tale of the Watchers." She shifted to a cross-legged position and sat up straight. Swinging her head first left and then snapping it quickly to the right, she removed her long, straight hair from her face. Before beginning, she glanced over at her mother, who’d begun to cough heavily.

"First tell me what you know of the Great Birdmen," she started coyly, still eyeing her mother. The children knew the tale thoroughly - but she needed a moment to gather herself.

"Whoop, whoop," Ania cried out in delight as she flapped her arms. Quzo was quickly imitating her and soon all the children were hopping up and down, making entirely too much noise.

"Okay, okay, I can see the spirit of the Ta'ar has infected you all. Sit down now and listen." As she recited the tale, Azaria stroked the fur on Grayfoot's head and back. The protective animal had settled down next to her, lying on his belly with his snout on his paws, as he so often did.

Azaria started, "When Great-Great-Grandmother was fishing along the shore she was startled by a great flash in the sky. She looked up and was surprised to see a great beast hovering above her where before there’d been nothing. The beast was as beautiful as it was big, with glimmering skin that changed through all the colors of the rainbow. And it sang a beautiful song, like the little birds you like to chase so much, Quzo. That's why those small birds are called hummingbirds, because they sing like Great-Great-Grandmother's beast and have shiny skin like it too." She was rewarded by her little brother's excited grin and continued. "But even though Grandmother thought it was beautiful, she was very scared and threw her fish into the air, hoping the beast would go after the fish and leave her alone." Azaria threw a non-existent fish into the air and the children squealed with laughter.

"But the beast ignored the fish, and instead decided to swoop to the ground in front of her. Then it opened its great mouth and out came a strange man who looked like he was dancing as he walked toward her." Azaria rolled her body left and right to mimic the ancient dance. "Grandmother was frightened and asked '
Who are you.
' '
We are friends,
' the strange man replied. '
Do not be afraid. For we are here to help you.
'" Azaria adopted the low voice typically used when quoting the Watchers.

"'
But where did you come from?
' asked Grandmother. Okay, who knows where the Watchers came from?" Azaria asked the children and smiled as they all pointed their fingers high into the air and screamed, "From the Vulture Stars!!"