Over the moons I learned slowly of the knife that Dagvar had given me, the ways of the ax and the spear. With the ax, and there are many styles, I learned that staple of our folk, the great twin-bladed thing oft called the battle axe. I was taught sane of the hand axe often called the hatchet, but it proved, as did the spear to be not as suited to my own style of movement as the other two, which were soon as old friends to my hands.
Surprisingly to me, Yakin did not teach me the byerdysh he preferred. But he proved to be as deadly and proficient in the use of the Syekeira, as we ' dwarves call the twin-bladed axe we prefer to use. Shorter than most battleaxes, but heavier and with a keener edge, it was designed to be wielded by creatures of our stature.
But, while I connected with the ax and knife, neither of them gave me the feeling of completeness, so we set them aside, as we looked for my 'key weapon' , the one that would open my battle skills to their fullest. That my very soul would respond to. And we searched, on, fruitlessly it then seemed.
But to think that all I did was such martial training would be foolish indeed. While our lives are long, we Karlykn still are children for a great portion of our lives, longer than those of the human or Domovoi are. And children play, alone or with each other. At the Zamok ot Ovozyest, I had no friends my age, here there were many. Not only were there children my age, many were of the castle, not just the town around. And the one who was to be my best friend was oft the roughest to be around. Despite her being two years my younger, 'Vina was near me almost constantly. She was in training with us, and already found her Oryudzheiklyuch, the syekeira. And the goddess Vyeronntar had already shown interest in her, leading all at the Koval to believe that she was destined to be of the Zashcheitnik sOchag, guardians of the hearths. They were female warriors who protected families in their homes, and were responsible for the saving of many lives over the ages.
Our time together was greater as well due to the living conditions. Within the halls of Zamok ot Choelm, we were considered as siblings, through my fostering. 'Vina had been the child on Yakin's lap the night we had shared making our links for memory of Dagvar. She was his daughter, and his favorite. Even her brother, Sergimorfinik, did not begrudge that bias, for her fate had him enthralled as well.
Oh, there were others in the castle, the Shyelschyem twins, the stable-master's son, even the cook's daughter. Among our kind, rank is not a barrier for children, or even adults, to friendship. And of course there were the animals of the zamok, the dogs, cats, ferrets and other pets, exotic and mundane. My favorite was 'Vina' s pet weasel, Eluki, but he was not too fond of me. Then again, as time passed he seemed to come to accept me, or at least not bite me at every chance.
So we would play the games children play in all peoples, tag, hide and seek, wrestling, and in winter snow forts and sledding. There were hot springs in the area, and the zamok' s builders had tapped several to make pools and baths for year round use as well. Swimming, something few dwarves not of lands on the coast or who plied the seas, we learned. As well as other games of the water, water hockey being our personal favorite at that age.
Not all was play, for we also had chores, which became harder and more numerous as we grew. Washing dishes, my least favorite, seemed to be common, as well the serving of the meals, and hauling water for wash tubs for the elderly and infirm. In the warm months we worked in the gardens, and every fall, the whole population of the zamok, even the Gosudar, turned out to aid with the harvest. In the hills of the Wall, even the high valleys of the Fingers we would plant crops. But even this far south, near to the track of the sun across the sky, the snows had a point where they took over, usually about 7400 arshin. Some years the height could vary by five hundred arshin either way, depending upon the season's chill or warmth compared with the normal. Few crops grow very well above 5000 arshin, what the humans around us would call 11,500 of their '£eet'. Above that were only the summer pastures, where we children were often given a small herd of sheep, goats, and in rare cases cattle, to graze up there under the watchful eye of an adult, who really ran the show.
Depending upon where one lived in the mountains, the most important day of our year. The priests of the Zala ot Ovozyest did so on the autumnal equinox. Most others celebrated the feast, which marked the beginning of the new year, as soon as their ochag had brought in all their harvests in the fall.
And moved all the herd animals down to safe pastures for the winter. Produscheina was ,the day when our folk had traditionally sealed up the high mountain homes and kofs, and withdrew to levels and places safer in the storms of winter. In better days, before the Geidra took our lands on the Koltso and in the Kotloveina, our folk would block all but the air-hole for which the holiday was named.
Back in those long forgotten days of peace and prosperity they had done so to prevent the invasion of the bitterly cold winter airs, not as we did now, against the reavers of the Geidra-Korolyeva.
Opposite of produscheina is the festival of the flow, Tyechyeneiye, when the sap of the Klyon trees begins to move upwards again, at winter's end. But where the feast of produscheina was somber, more of a homecoming to die in a sense, Tyechyeneiye was the coming out, the grand fling to mark the end of the rei911 of death in the winter's frost and chill. The fall was quiet and soft-spoken, a time of gatherings of family and ochags, while the spring, or its promise, was a time of wild and boisterous gatherings of friends and neighbors.
Contests, fights, sled races when and where there was still snow left, parties, all manner of entertainments, and best of all, music. After the long winter cooped up, we came' out, and we let loose the excess energy that we had been forced to bottle up during the long days of isolation and storms the winter held. This was the feast of meeting people, making friends, and rebuilding the sense of being of one lyud. It was also a time many chose to do their early stages of courtship, hidden amongst such gaiety.
Here in the foothills of Dormo' s Wall, the feast was still a ways off, but the moon was half gone, and slowly moving to full again. Soon the sap would flow, and the wines and ales as well, but until then, until the trees gave voice by cracks and groans in the wood, there was no feast to come. Not every tree is heal thy enough to be tapped every year, so many of the people had exited the ochags, and were out in the woods, checking the trees in the section they had, or working on the other preparations. Much like a field, some years whole groves were left fallow, unharvested to improve the harvest by strengthening the klyon. Word had come just that fateful week that the flow of sap had begun in the valleys and flatlands below towards the coast. Soon, we all hoped, it would begin here.
As there was little to do, at this point, often we children were allowed to visit the slope above and to the east of the zamok, over the ridge, or even the loshcheina where the adults would race when the feast began. These spots were all on the mid reaches of the ridge connecting the Nalbalthrak to the south of the zamok, and the Nalbalkrag to the northeast. The latter was the tip of the finger, and while higher, was considered the lesser of the two peaks. Nalbalthrak was the mountain of the forge, home of the last of the ancient smithies in which the gods of the Fordai had taught our ancestors the secrets of metals, and of life. The northern peak was lit by the sun, it being a clear and warm day, for that time of year. But in the shadow of the stone of the forge, it was still covered in snow for us to play upon. Above us the Wall of the Forge rose, like some great zamok's wall, unassailable according to legend something I often challenged, and had my ears boxed for speaking of.
Every once and a while, the winds of the Vyeter grabbed the snow off the high peaks around us, and carried it out into a cloud of scintillating particles, that would drop towards us, sometimes even making it, as mist, or sometimes still frozen.
But Obyet, and the Tyechyeneiye were still days away, but still those of us yet young enough to be excited by just the anticipation, were. The adults were locked in the final stoic silence of the winter, waiting for the trees to give the welcome to spring and life again here on the benches and foothills, even in the higher parks.
My constant companions in those days were the twins, Zefdarfan and Stefogvan, the Shchyelshyem boys. And the two girls, 'Villa and 'Tana, the latter being the cook's daughter. Morz had stable duties and a broken arm from one of the mules kicking him the week before, while he was learning to groom it. Only his skill with animals had kept him alive, and not earned him a kick in the head for touching the infected ears of the beast by accident.
That day's event of choice was chute-luging, or sledding really. We rode a sled barely large enough for one person down the ravine to the east of the zamok, one that wound its way down the flat of the bench in a narrow trough, to another ancient shoreline below. These were made according to our lessons in geography, by the fitful way the gods had raised and lowered the seas and lands over the ages, each marking a different stage of elevation, or depth. It was a moderately dangerous proposition, racing down the ravine, either feet or head first, runners barely able to bite for control in the icy surface of the snow, which had been deposited by the numerous avalanches, or laveina. To be sure, this low down the mountains flanks, and so late in the season, it was rare for the runs of moving snow to reach so far down the mountains shoulders, but it did still happen, thus adults were always present when we children used this area. The watched the mountain and sky, as well as we children, and often the group at the top was of elders, with respected sense of weather.
The five of us there that day each had our own sleds, as did the sole other with us, a boy form the crofter holds in the valley, come up to enjoy the bench for the day. Each of us had taken the run many times in the late mom, and a few more since our little vtoroi zavtrak, the mid-day meal.
Now the sun was westering, approaching the heights of the Nakalkupol, or the dome of Red Heat, Or the Mountains of Sunset, as the locals called them in the vale to their east. The portal to the Light Realm was sinking into oncoming clouds from the west, or northwest more accurately. This was the storm our watchers for the day had spoken of their feeling earlier at the noontide. One said he could taste it in the air, 'Tana's father, who had come as well, said he felt it in his bones. Old Arem merely looked west, and said he "knew" it in his soul. The first two looked bored, but Arem looked sad and worried. In my time here in the hills and mountains to the south of Ovozyest the valley, I had learned that Arem, Darkainarem Timofovich seKosa to give him his full name, was more in tune with the winds and rains than many priests. The old harvester rarely spoke, but when he did, even we children listened, if he spoke of the weather.
That I had heard his comment, and felt something as well would bode well, or ill. Looking again at the sky, I could see the clouds boiling up over the distant Tvyerdui Shaleiv, as they often did when the cold winds of the north blew across that warm water. Arem noticed my gaze and came beside me, setting a hand upon my shoulder. He said no words, but it was like he had, for I knew deep down that he read that I too understood the weather. Znayuschei Pogodu we call it, wisdom of the weather.
Some say it comes from long lives in it, others say it is a gift from the gods, a few believe it is something in our very blood that responds to it. Greater in some families than others. It seemed that I had this sense, to feel the weather, and even this first time it arose, I knew to trust it.
'Vina and 'Tana were with us here at the top of the ravine, as was Zefdar who had just returned from his last run. Stefo and another boy had started down the snowy run. The latter was perhaps just now reaching the talus of snow at the ravine's mouth, from the many laveina that ran down it so often in the winter, instead of sleds, making it such a perfect place for our fun. Me and Arem shared a look and knew that while going down the west slope to the zamok was possible, to climb up and over this spur we stood upon or the torrent of the Kovat stream in the valley below the ravine was not. I rushed to the others, and stopped them from going down, rather forcefully. I merely yanked Zefdar's collar, preventing him from starting a running leap into the luscheina, and then ran across the icy ledge to kick' Villa 's sled out from under her now leaping form.
She landed hard, and rolled over in anger, screaming at me, and making her hands into the powerful fists she had even then from her weapons practice, "Moi Sanei!" Then she slugged me, nearly knocking me over the lip of the ravine with a tremendous right to my chin. "That was a gift from Pater, and you know it! that was mean and spiteful, Gyevo! I hate you!" She punctuated each word with a kick or punch, as tears flowed from her eyes. It had hurt me, too, for I knew this sled had meant much to her.
I pushed her back uphill, both to save myself, and get her started back to the safety of the zamok and town. She fought, trying now to get by me to retrieve her sled, which had caught on a rock outcropping on the far wall on the first turn of the run. out of the corner of my eye, I could also make out Zefdar getting back up and preparing to start his run again.
"BURYA!" I shouted the dreaded word from desperation, and at the same time I could hear the elders above call it out as well, giving credence to my cry. I saw Zefdarhalt and watched 'Vina' s eyes grow wide in some emotion other than anger. Both looked up at the sky, where the clouds could now be seen down the valley to the northwest. Then their eyes turned back to me. "Go, back to the zamok! Let them know we will get the others!"
Zefdar only heard my first cry, for suddenly his rivalry with his twin was forgotten, and the special bond those of a single birthing share took precedence. "STEFO!" His cry tried to reach the mile or more to the end of the loscheina, but was torn by the winds lowering from the air above, slowly bringing the fury of the wind god, the Vyeter, to the earth.
This was not normal weather, even I could ,feel the hand of the Geidra-Korolyeva in this, using her magics for other purposes, but stirring up the spirits of the air, breeding storms and disaster, beyond that any battle she could stage against us, bringing chaos and death that she often could not plan on causing, but the disruptions of her magics caused anyway, to her advantage.
'Villa was still mad about her sled, but Zefdar was the problem now. So I again started her up the slope to the ridgeline, where she could start down to safety in the castle below. She still hesitated, until I spoke again, this time with some softness, despite having to yell to be heard over the rising winds and commotion of the elders.
"I'll bring you your sled, just go with the others! Please!"
Tears in her eyes, and anger still on her brow, she went, stopping at the top to yell something about her sled that the wind spirits delivered only that word of to me. Then she turned and ran down the far side, headed towards the zamok, with 'Tana and the others. One down, and an even tougher one yet to go.
Zefdar was straining against the strength of Arem to rush down the loscheina to join his brother. I began to realize why Zefdar was so upset. Stefo could die up here if the storm was bad enough, or lasted very long. So would our guards, Igdi and Davrilz, even the other boy, one I had only seen here on the sled runs before, perhaps once in the town on a market day. I did not then even know his name, yet I could not let him just die out here. Or lose an arm or leg to Otmorajeivaniye, the frost that steals.
"Can any of the others feel storms coming?" My shout carried the short distance between gusts of the 'winds, luckily reaching Arem. His answer was a sad negative shake of his head. And somewhere deep inside my soul, I knew that my role here was important. Once again, I knew in my body what I had to do before my head could even realize the problem. "Take him, I'll warn the others!"
"WAIT!" Arem whacked Zefdar on the back of his neck, in a strange chopping motion with his hand. My friend collapsed to the snow, from where the elder lifted him up to sling over his shoulder. "There are two caves at the mouth of the loscheina, the one to the east is often filled and sealed for weeks after a laveina, but the one to the west is safer. And it has a hot spring inside it, which will help you stay warm. Go with caution, and wait there for rescue." He then set his hand that was freed by this upon my shoulder, and gave me some words of wisdom, not for the first or last time either. "Watch the sky, stay together when possible, and let the gardya do the hunting. Most importantly, trust the Znayuschei pogodu the gods have given you, the others are all dead to it, so you must hear for them when the skies and clouds talk. Now go, and do well, moi gosudar. "
With these words, he turned and worked his way carefully up to the ridge and the trail down the other side to safety. Carrying Zefdar as if he was the most precious treasure in the world. Which I was to later learn that all of my kind considered children to be. And other races did as well, though many of the Karlykn refused to acknowledge such.
Now I turned and jumped into the ravine, a short drop of five feet here, and crossed the narrow troughs and erosion that marked its beginnings. Here the snow was backed into a thick ice, from the frolics associated with sledding, so that walking across it took several lesser chas, the sand-filled glasses used to mark the passage of time when the sun was not visible, or during the long hours of the night. Reaching the rocks Vina' s sled was caught upon was a perilous business, one I still sometimes feel in my seat, which took the brunt of my falls and slips, though my elbows also were sore afterwards for days. Luckily the surface was chopped up enough by the runners from our day's play that I did not begin the long trip down the loscheina myself, without a sled.
At last I reached her sanei, with the. above bruises and a new scrape from the sharp edges of the torn up ice on the back of one hand as reminders. Here within the protection of the draw, the winds had not settled in yet, and the stillness gave a false impression of safety, that my insides twisting in tune to the anger of the Vyeter above me gave lie to. Without warning, the others would be caught in the open by the chill winds and blinding snow to cane. Even if they noticed the storm, which Arem had obviously doubted, there was no longer time enough for them to make it to the zamok, or even an old herder shed on the west slope near the trail to the valley I s path to the bench the zamok was built upon. Besides, when I thought of it, I felt ill, much like the way the storm itself was affecting me, but it got stronger each time I thought of that place of shelter. Thinking of the cave gave me less discomfort, indeed, the ill of the burya’s coming seemed to be placated by that thought.
And the only way to the cave, and the others was down the loscheina, on a sled. Mine I had left above, so I would use the sanei of Villa, very carefully. I did not dare wreck the sled, not just for the promise I had made, but also because lives were on the line. I took in a deep breathe, looking at the narrow run before me, then started to push the sled of the princess down the loscheina. Three steps fast, then fall forward, holding the sanei handles tightly, and praying there are no rocks or ridges of high sharp ice to lacerate the hands or take a finger as one goes down the run, head first. Normally the sanei is used like a luge, laid upon feet first, but I was in a hurry, and needed the ability to steer the vehicle I rode, to avoid the very hazards just mentioned. Besides, I was a very contrary person, even then. Besides, once upon a time Arem had told me that my way would leave me unconscious in an accident, thus I would avoid the pains that occurred before the shock of the wreck could kill my nerves.
I began to hurtle down the chute, picking up more and more speed, keeping my fingers away from the brake levers built into the handles, and steering at the very limits of my then meager skills. As ‘Vina was much better of a sledder than I was then, her sled was faster, and made for such a run. I needed this advantage to achieve my goal.
The wind in my face from the speed of my passage down the ravine was making it hard for me to see, and the air gave voice as well, leaving me with few sounds save its roar. The pressure of my velocity was taking the breath from me as well. I soon was approaching the mid point of run, a spot where both sides of the ravine were undercut in a rounded way, making an almost pipe. Perfect for the maneuver I planned. And it was rapidly approaching.
I released the drag break, an extra runner, wide and shaped to rapidly slow the sled, just before I reached the east wall of the ravine, to do a roll-over.. another reason for why I preferred a lesser performing sled. That way I did not have to work so long doing chores to rebuild or replace it if I did wreck it. The roll was such a perfect one, I almost regretted not being able to continue on making a continuous run. I popped above the rim of the loscheina, sailing upside down back across its expanse, narrow here, to the west.
The slowing I had done made it so that rather than flying past the out cropping point that the guards used to observe us on the west side, I came down on it, just above the spot where normally Davrilz would stand to make sure any hurt or stuck on the run were cleared off and tended to before they caused a greater accident, before the next racer came hurtling down the ravine' s trough. Luckily for me, he had already moved down to a slight rise just below, that had a south face that was often icy, and was aiding Stefo in getting across the treacherous stretch safely.
I glided on down to them, noting that Davrilz' s skis were at the near edge of the bad footing he was just getting my age mate clear of. They both were staring at me, in amazement at the stunt I had tried all winter to achieve, and found capable only due to my dire need. Despite having landed hard, nearly knocking the breath from myself, I did not roll off the sanei in pain or relief but glided on down to them, spending much more safely the speed I still had in a more normal braking than my usual sideways wipe-out.
As I neared the small draw that allowed access back to the ravine's bottom at this point, and shouted out the reason for my urgency in coming.
“BURYA!"
Both reacted with fear, and wrongly. They both started for the ridge-line to the west, and the fastest path to safety. Even now I could begin to see from this lower vantage the tops of the clouds, which would doom any on the long path back to the zamok, or even the sheepherders' station.
"NO! Arem said there was not time! He said to use the Cavern of Hot Waters by the loscheina's end." I tried to sound as earnest as possible, given my state.
Hearing this, Davrilz stopped and queried me over my source. "Arem said that?"
I gave him the only answer I could, pointing up to a sky in the west that was rapidly filling with the billowing, angry clouds of the witch-weather. All were moving rapidly, on a now gusting wind, that began to stir these mid-reaches of the hill, were we now were. My bodyguard stood, stunned, caught in the fear of the storm, which was obvious now in those bearers of moisture and power. Like so many of the Neizhnei, the fear of the open they all had to some extent was enhanced by the fury of the winds in a burya. So too, I have noted since, are city-dwellers, or others of more sedate upbringing, who never see the awesome power of the wilderness, where nature is unrestrained, and can be awe inspiring in fury as well as her beauty.
Stefo was not as flat-footed, and had turned and raced to the draw, using it like Davrilz did when called on to give aid to the less skilled or hurt, to enter the run. Before the boy had even reached the bottom of the loscheina, he had jumped onto his own sled, beginning what would probably be the most mad capped and inspired run my shy friend had even made, or ever would probably.
"Arem said that?" Now the elder guard approached the draw and me, still in doubt, or perhaps it was merely dismay. He had stopped to get his skis, and was moving quickly. Even if he doubted me, he could not be skeptical of the evidence the steikeie themselves presented. While I worded ‘Vina' s sled free of the pile of snow I had ploughed up coming to a stop, he began to strap on his runners, and swiftly took up pursuit of Stefo, and in seconds he too was out of sight, and I stood for a moment at the head of the draw, counting silently, to ensure the time between us was enough for me not to run them over as I followed to safety. Also, I was worried that the others may have started up the trail to head home, Igdi not being aware of the danger from the west, and be caught, unprepared and vulnerable.
The trail remained empty, and soon I could hear the sounds of shouting, urgent, but wordless in content due to the distance and rising winds. Satisfied I would no longer need to wait to save any others on the trail, I now took a running start at the draw, and into it, leaping onto the sanei of my step-sister, and began my own race against the fury of the burya. The sled moved rapidly and handled like a dream. I had enough stashed away now to get another sled despite my natural tendency against such a move, with a little more work at extra chores, perhaps I could get myself such a fine conveyance for the next year's season, it being to late for getting a new one this year.
In less than a minute my mad head-first plunge down the loscheina reached speeds near, but not above, what I had the first half. My eyes were again squinting against the frozen air, and while it took twice as long as it would have taken an uninterrupted racer to make this stretch, I still reached bottom just as the overly cautious Davrilz came to a stop, near a dreadful sight.
The crofter boy had apparently found a rock or other type of obstacle at the end of his run, and lost control of his sled before he could lose any of his speed. He had been tossed off his sanei, and into the legs of Igdi. Vina' s guardian had a broken shin, and the boy was a mess of cuts and bruises, with a broken arm and possibly a cracked skull as well, from the gentle way Davrilz had begun to handle his head. Due to his addled state, and the crippled one of Igdi, we would be lucky to get safely to the cave Arem had told us to use in time. If any chance of making it to the keep was still in Davrilz, or any of our heads, the atmosphere chose then to remove it, both with the severity of our companions injuries , and its own challenge to us.
Thunder rumbled as the daleina below us filled with low clouds, bearing rain and lightnings. Or by the time the winds drove them this far up the mountain, snow, sleet and lightning, not dimmed at all in its threat. The wind now began to tug more steadily at our coats and hats as its fitfulness now gave way to a steady flow from the north-west, rising from the Ovozyest Valley. A near torrent of a flow, as the sky began its weeping, frozen immediately at this great height.
I aided as I could, but having yet to learn more than the preparations of bandages, and splints, but not yet to the setting of bones, or cleaning of wounds. When pressed, I knew what herbs were needed for poultices, but not how to make the bags, or sew the wounds shut. Nor did I have any skill with the dangerous wounds that Markaim had suffered to his head, wounds that usually only a true cheirurg would treat. Besides we needed shelter, and some rope, which was usually stored in the safe houses our kind made every where for just such occasions. That Arem had mentioned the site led me to believe that the cave was one such.
I also knew that I was the only one who could go, as Stefo often would get lost in their rooms, unless Zefdar aided him, and Davrilz was the only adult here, and was needed to treat the wounded until we could move them to a safe shelter. That left only me to find the cave. Even in the late winter in the mid-reaches, this could be hard. And this year had been one of exceptional snow and wind, so the cave could either be visible or not, or even partially hidden.
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