Echoes from the Lost Ones Page 2

  A crick-crack noise to my left caused me to stop. I swivelled round expecting to see a movement in the undergrowth, but all I saw was a teenbull hitching his skirt up so that he could piss against a tree.

  I shuddered at the thought that there was nowhere for him to wash his hands, then shuddered again when I saw him wipe said dirty mitt across the front of his chest. Wirt shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes and came up close.

  “What became of ye after yer parents died?”

  “Santy Breanna took us in and introduced me to all kinds of buggalugs. Not in the place we lived of course.”

  “What? Ye were raised by one of ‘The Special Army of the Neworld Territories?’”

  “No, I wish. Santy Breanna was destined now to live with us in our Cityhome”

  “She must have missed the nomadic life some?”

  “Rightly so I guess, but she did take us on camping trips into the one-and-only park. The times spent amongst the greenly stuff was apt. Made me strong, made me almost as brave as she. Her name suits. For she is the bravest female I have ever known, but then she used to be Backpacker in the Beyondness.”

  “I have heard of these Backpackers. Aiken said that they do not fear the Agros.”

  “‘Bout only folk that don’t. When I am of age I too wish to be a Backpacker and give the Agros a taste of my fists.”

  I felt a sharp thud in the middle of my back and turned to see Aiken all narrow-eyed. He put a finger to his lips. “Sshh. Do not make so much noise. Wolfies abound hereabouts. Move without chitter-chatter.”

  “My fault, wiser man. I engaged the auger in-”

  “That I do not doubt. Ye have a sissified way with ye to be sure. Now tramp silent or ye will be punished.”

  I saw Wirt wince at Aiken’s words and found myself warming to this friendlier than the rest juve.

  A rush of derisive chuckles rippled through the other bulls and Wirt’s face became as bright as the rising sun. For one of not too dissimilar an age as myself, I regarded his embarrassment as my own and made an effort to keep him close.

  He had a way of moving that was unlike the others, a less bulky waddle that made him look as graceful as a leaf swaying in the wind. I snickered at my own poetic turn of phrase. Wirt turned his head, glanced at my cheesy grin and showed me his discoloured teeth. At least I’d found one Nearly who wished nowt from me but chat.

  Chapter Two

  Rough Night Amongst The Nearlymen

  All the while we trudged I listened for sounds of Agro. On my own not so hard, but with all these teens plid-plodding heavily, I found it impossible. Plus, sort of hard to concentrate on said task whilst constantly smacking their probing paws off my behind.

  I walked closer to Wirt and the Nearlys kept their distance. The trees began to thin a bit and I was able to get a better look at my surroundings that were so different from Cityplace. Everything there was made from metal and concrete, all so geometrically perfect, and all so bland and cold. Here there was variation on a goodly scale.

  I began to take an interest in the place they were taking me to, and whispered into Wirt’s ear, “Is it true that you live inside charred trees?” He nodded and I continued, “I saw one in a photomag. Wow and then some. It was decorated with feathers and greenly stuff and looked like a present waiting to be unwrapped.” He smiled and I looked around to see if I could detect one of these organic abodes.

  Nope, nadder. I didn’t see any such places in this forest. Only thing I saw was giant curly leaf things and spiky ground twigs that caught my ankles and made them bleed. The nick to my shins hurt, but not so much as the ache in my innards that came not from the monthlies but from the loss of Deogol.

  All I wanted to do was to get back on track and find my bro. This abduction by the Woodsfolk males was not part of my hastily put together plan. I peered from side to side in an attempt to determine if there was a way to rid myself of them and thought I saw a means to do so, in the shape of these bulls losing concentration and marching ahead all in one glob, almost as if my presence had been forgot.

  Just when I was about to create a diversion and somehow make good my escape, we came upon a clearing. Light shone down and I was able to get a proper look at this new landscape. I’d never seen so many different sorts of trees, and they were alive. The ones in Cityplace were near dead or as good as. Their magnificence blew away all thoughts of previous escape and I turned and turned looking up into their dark canopies.

  I couldn’t help myself, I had to touch one. I swear when I did I felt its heart beat. I wanted to snuggle under it, to dig amongst the dry brown leaves, to delve into the soil and touch its finger roots with my own, but Aiken swatted my hand away and pushed me forward.

  I fell down, but quickly recovered and sat back on my heels. I looked up and saw a real big Manlyman standing over me. He wore a faded red tunic and black plaid wrap skirt that came to his knees, which were as big as a moocows. I guessed he was in charge ‘cause all the other males bowed their heads, crossed their chests with their arms and chanted, “ Brennus! Brennus! Brennus!”

  I rose and stood before him, chin out, hands on hips, careful to hide my extra fingers by keeping them behind my back; and in said pose showed him I wasn’t afraid. Inside I quivered like a dewdrop on a web and felt stinky sweat trickle down my back.

  “Catcher of Birds, it is an honour to have ye close to our Nearlymen and Manlymen. Tonight ye guest with us as one of our own. Next day ye bring meat to our sitting downs.”

  I puffed out my chest in defiance, and caught sight of Wirt from the corner of my eye. He stood further back from the rest and when I turned towards him, he shook his head and frowned. I gleaned more information about the state of things from his sad expression than if I had shouted at him to tell me all about this burly male. So I folded my arms and nodded, to indicate that I would carry out his wishes, knowing full well that I would do nothing of the sort.

  Brennus raised his arms and head and let loose a shriek of high proportion. I felt myself being picked up and thrown over the shoulder of a Nearly. He carried me all-a-bobbing out of the clearing and into the biggest Homeoak I’d ever seen.

  He stopped at the entrance, which was nowt but a large hole with a heavy coarse brown cloth hanging over it. I squiggled myself free of the unwashed Nearlyman and smoothed down my tunic. It had ridden up higher than I would have liked during my ungainly transportation. He huffed and puffed and murmured in my general direction.

  “Ye are heavier than ye look.”

  “And you are weaker than you should be,” I said and turned my back on the rudeness of the teen. Not his fault, though. He was right. I was heavier than I seemed due to my invisible Synthbag, which was crammed full of necessities and stuff to help me on my travels. I would not dare reveal that I owned such a precious and valuable thing to these oafs.

  When I had recovered from my insult I pulled the makeshift door to one side and stepped in. I hadn’t expected such a dull exterior to have such a cheerful and bright interior. It was one big round room lit by fizzing tar sticks stuck in the floor. Their light made crazy shadows that danced and twitched like ghosties on All Hallows Eve.

  The dandiest woven grass mats in all kinds of colours lay here and there on the ground. There were shelves jutting out from the walls of the tree trunk, with stiff hammock-like beds nailed onto them and in the centre was a great fire with black smoke rising up and billowing out from a hole at the top.

  I counted twenty-six Nearlymen and five Manlymen gathered around the fire. All were sitting on thick rugs, supping something hot from clay bowls. A cauldron swung above the flames attached to a tripod made from what looked like old bits of rusted metal bars. The smell that oozed from it was goodly and my stomach gave out an impetuous growl.

  “Come, Bringer, sit and share our grub,” Brennus said.

  I cast my eye about in search of Wirt, as I had lost track of him when I was lugged into the place. I spied him standing beside one of the light sticks near the
entrance. He was alone without any food, his head bowed and his feet tracing circles in the dust.

  A low chuckle filled with lech escaped from the dribble mouth of a Nearly sat opposite to where I stood. The rest of the teenbulls had a look of yearn and I swear I could hear their nads contract when I moved towards the sitting ‘dults.

  Pulling my Synthowool cape tighter across my chest, I sat amongst the Manlymen. They stared at my face and down belows, and I quickly crossed my legs. If I believed in the Greenman, I would have prayed for his protection. But I don’t, so I just sat and ate the stew they gave me hoping I would be safe.

  The fire spit spat and sent flecks of gold embers spurting around the room. When I was just a tot and on my first camp with Santy, she made a fire and I thrilled to the sputtering of logs and the flashes of cinders as the wood cracked and faded. I thought they were the eyes of the dead keeping watch on those that still prevailed. Santy Breanna just smiled when I said this to her, but you know what? She didn’t say it wasn’t so.

  I continued to nosh and peruse the place, wondering how they kept dry if it were to rain. I looked up and noticed that the hole at the top had a canopy pulled half way across it with two ropes descending to a massive hook stuck near the bottom of the wall. No doubt the thing could be pulled over in case of a downpour.

  I glanced back to where Wirt stood, head bent as if he were not allowed to lift it up. I wondered why he did not join the rest, and then saw Aiken approach him, scuttling like an earwig in the shadows. He peeked around the room and I lowered my gaze, but not enough so that I could not see what he was doing. He whispered words into Wirt’s ear that made the youth close his eyes and grimace and me to further question the actions of these males. Wirt shook his head and Aiken gave him a mighty cuff around the ears, which made him totter forward. Then the ‘dult walked slinkily back and set his backside down next to Brennus.

  “The hour is overdue and I would see ye lay down. A bunk up high should keep ye right till morning. Don’t frown. The fire crackles endlessly. No wolfies dare come near,” Brennus said with a look of softness I had not believed possible on a face so marred with struggle and lack of soap. I did not have the heart to say it wasn’t the Wolfies that made me fret, but the Nearlymen and their burning eyes.

  “Do you think I could have some water to abloosh myself with before I take to bed?” A hush fell upon the place, and all cast down their eyes as though I had said “Schmallenberg infection.”

  “Such luxuries are forbidden. We roll in dust and wipe our lower bits with moss. Ye are welcome to do the same.”

  “Oh, ta,” I said and felt a gush of heat swarm over me. I noticed that the Nearlys all had a leering look upon their gobs. Some, I swear, had their hands below their skirts. The heat fastly turned to an icy shiver and I feared for my safety.

  Brennus frowned at the foolish grins and low guttural barks that emitted from the gathered males, and clicked his tongue between his yellow teeth. “Desist from conducting yerselves like lovesick Monks and think of higher things. Preferably above the waist,” he said and clapped his massive hands.

  Wirt appeared and I felt a burst of relief sweep over me. I took a closer look as he approached. In the gloom of outside, I had not been able to eye him clearly, and hadn’t realised just how odd he was from the rest. His face was cleaner than the others and his fingernails were smooth, as though a girlygig had given him a handcare.

  “This teenbull will take ye to the place of wash and help ye to yer resting.” Brennus leant close and spoke in lowness so only I could hear, “This male is too fine for what he must become. Ye womb is safe, be soothed by this.”

  I picked up some meaning from his remark, his Highland accent as thick as all the others meant I had some difficulty in comprehending all that he said in one go. It was the word “safe” that finally caused my muscles to slacken. I showed respect and bowed, then turned toward the not-right teen. He gave me a tiny smile, and for reasons, I know not, I took his hand and said, “Show me where you splosh.”

  His face went redder than a bub about to plop and everyone, including me, let out a merry guffaw. I hadn’t meant to use such a nursery word, but when I looked at his soft brown eyes and slender arms I went all mumsly. Not like me at all. I began to wonder if the ‘dults had palmed a soother into my stew.

  “Wirt, take our guest and look to keep yer gaze upwind and hands inside yer pouch.”

  “I shall be as bro and see no harm come, as is the duty of the colony and Woodsfolk alike,” Wirt said and strode dainty-like to the threshold. I followed keenly, glad to be away from the smell of teenbull urge. I took a swift look back and saw three grisly looking Nearlys stare keenly at Wirt. They dug each other in the ribs and nodded their heads. Aiken walked up beside them and whispered who knows what into their ears. I shivered not knowing why and hurried outside to join my escort.

  It was dark. Not so strange for nighttimes I know, but in Cityplace the sky is always lit with the glare from road lamps and info boards. I lifted my head to the heavens and saw something wondrous.

  Stars.

  Millions of them winked and blinked, making shapes that looked like old, old cartooneys that Santy Breanna showed me once. Although I had witnessed these bright objects before when scouting with her, it had been a great lapse of time since I had perused them in all their might. I lost myself in their luminance until Wirt coughed.

  “’Scuse yer musings, but it’s cold and I forgot to heave on my thigh socks. The place for relieving is quick.”

  “Right, sorry. Lead me on.”

  He walked ahead and I could not help but notice how lightly he treaded each step. Although a hand taller than myself and thinner around the middle, he was as graceful as a kittle chasing a nanomouse in a slab-tech game. I kept close and listened for wolfie growls, or Agro steppings. He must have heard my fear and turned.

  “No Wolfie tonight, too clear and bright. Our Lady Moon protects with her generous gleam.”

  I had forgotten that the Woodsfolk believe so well in all things Nature, and confess to say, on witnessing the glowy stars, I understand why they just might.

  Wirt stopped by an interwoven willow screen and waved his hand to indicate I should go behind. Placing my feet carefully to avoid mushy lumps, whose origin I could only guess at, I slinked behind the concealment and let out a sigh. My bladder bulged beyond its capacity and I badly needed to change my reddie sponge. So I called out to Wirt, “Is there a special section for bodily fluids to escape?”

  “We mainly dig a hole and piss in there.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll just do that then,” I said and gouged the ground with the heel of my walkerboots. I loosened my trousers, dropped them, pulled down my Stayclean pants, and filled the hole and then some. Taking Brennus’s advice, I snatched some moss from the side of the screen and dried my parts. Then attended to my blood sponge. I did not, however, roll around in the dirt, but used a Moister from my Comfort bag to wash away the grime and mud from face, armpits and hands. Feeling as clean as could be expected, I returned to Wirt.

  “Better for the relieving?”

  “To be sure.”

  “Then let us to bed. Tomorrow ye must use yer powers and provide us all with...”

  He stopped quite sudden and put his hand over his mouth. I froze and heard the puff-puffing of a beast nearby. “Wolfie?” I asked preparing myself for flight.

  “No. Keep walking.”

  I did, but found it hard to keep up with Wirt, who paced speedily without the need to run. The animal noise grew louder, as did the sound of other foots. I was relieved at the thought that more teens or ‘dults were with us and slowed to catch my breath.

  “Stay with me, do not slack.”

  There was an urgent tone to his words, which left me quite confused. Until a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me to the ground. I didn’t stay there long. Years of training with Santy Breanna had made me well prepared for scrap.

  Agro was my first thought, but on rising, I not
iced the familiar Woodsfolk patterned skirt, worn by the Nearlys and ‘dults alike. I became at once feared and disgruntled at their boldness. No male would be taking my most prized, not without my utmost authorisation.

  Of that, you can be sure.

  “Keep to the soil girlie. Our intent lies with him,” a larger than the rest male said. I could not help but think that I had heard his voice before. He wound his fingers around Wirt’s wrist. “If ye do not comply, yer time will come. Bringer or not.”

  I stood and saw what passed for three Nearlymen and a Manlyman. Their faces covered with thin red gauze. To disguise their real and mean intent, no doubt. I was about to rage and take one down when Wirt spoke, “Rest behind the tree and listen to yer digits. I will come for ye when all is done.”

  “Erh? Wirt, what’s up?”

  “Do this I say and they’ll not partake of yer things. If I return with ye all wronged, then I will be taught a lesson I’ll not forget in a hurry.”

  “Wirt, pull away.”

  “Please, yer safety is in peril.”

  “As is yours. I sense it from their hunger.”

  “Which is of full ripeness. Go, now.”

  The look of anguish he threw at me, made me back away and do his request. I sneaked behind a great big tree, squatted on the ground and put my fingers in my ears.

  Chapter Three

  Tough Love

  I could tell from the leftover wet on his cheek that Wirt was in pain, inside and out. There was a small bruise on the side of his full pink mouth and a deep graze on the side of his neck. His red wrap skirt was the wrong way round and the scratch marks on his calve and knees did not come from the greenery with spikes where I’d found him on his hands and knees. On seeing me, he stood.

  “We must to camp or the elders will become wary of our absence.”

  “You shake with hurt. Let me ease the signs of struggle before we leave,” I said and set my Synthbag on a moss-covered rock. Wirt let his head hang down and I was overcome with mumsly concern. “Come, sit and I’ll swipe a Mediswab across the wounds. The healing is quicker than the ravaging. It is a pity that I only have treatment for the surface aches.”