Dream Drive Ch. 06

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Shaka frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's our version of vow-gifts, I guess."

"I see," Shaka said. "In that case, yes. In our legends, many of the greatest warriors used it as the foundation of their promise to their wives."

"Does one warrior tend to win over and over a lot?"

"Not usually," Shaka said, "but from time to time, one of great talent is born. Katran himself has participated in the games five times; he has won the last two. He has topped the spear competition three times. It is very likely he could win again."

Jackson shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I don't want to get dragged into a pissing match. Especially not with Boonta."

"That is indeed your prerogative," Shaka said. "Fulfilling Chaki's fantasies is a luxury we don't have. It is a mature sort of conclusion for a mature young man."

"...yeah. I guess it is."

Shaka smiled. "Perhaps you aren't sure?"

Jackson crossed his arms. "No, I'm sure."

"Then we have a tipi to fold. Come."

"Yes, Shaka," Jackson said automatically.

He went through the motions with his teacher; he was getting pretty good at it after a few days in a row. Untying the support poles, separating them, folding the air-flaps, and then folding the segments of the tent's canvass that were tied together. And then they cleaned the spot where she'd staked the tipi, filling in the small fire pit and the small drainage trench they'd cut in the ground.

At first, Jackson had thought the tent was just a patchwork quilt with irregular bits and pieces sewn together at random. He couldn't have been more wrong. It was made with a careful intent, and there was a method to its packing that preserved the strength and integrity of the skins.

In short order, Shaka's things were lashed to her three sleds and hooked to her horses. Jackson strapped her trunk to his back while Shaka swept her grey hair into the ponytail she'd taken to wearing it in while they were marching.

Jackson set to walking alongside her, and it seemed as if the entire camp pulled up along with them. She didn't launch into the runes right away; he didn't bother prodding her for more hand-scarring lessons. He looked into the distance.

After three days of walking, the mountain was clearly visible. When he'd first arrived, it was a faint brown triangle, barely perceptible through miles and miles of air. Now it was a constant black pyramid, sitting alone in the middle of the prairie, staring down at him.

Jackson turned his thoughts back to immediate problems. The ability to transfer something from Earth through the connection to Isis solved his vow-gift problem. He could go to the pawn shop near Al's and buy a ring that would make anything the People-Under-The-Mountain could offer look like a plastic chew toy. Imagining Chaki's face when he showed it to her made him smile.

I'm thinking like I've already decided to marry her.

Maybe he had. He'd decided to trust her. Why not just say a few words and seal the deal?

Probably because of the inescapable sense of commitment. He was used to being on his own. Marriage meant responsibilities. It meant compromises.

And children? Chaki was definitely a family-minded woman. He would have to have a serious talk with her about that. Jackson didn't have strong feelings either way, but he was only 18. The People-Under-The-Mountain didn't keep time by days, but from Chaki's description of the seasons, Jackson knew she was only a few months older than him. Parenthood was definitely a vague thing very far off in his future, if at all.

He sighed to himself. Anyways. Something had changed that enabled him to take things through the connection. What was different?

It only took him a moment to strike the variable. His bond with Chaki. He could now bring something from Isis back with him. The unspoken corollary was that he could bring things from Earth back into Isis.

He definitely had to return soon - maybe that night. He could make a trip out of it, use up all his spare cash to purchase gemstones. He could store extra essence in all of them.

"Shaka, does the quality of a gem change how much essence can be stored in it?"

Shaka glanced at him, pondering over his sudden question. "...in my experience, size is more important, but clearer stones tend to be better. As there is nothing to cloud them, it stands to reason that they hold essence more easily."

"Alright. I guess I'll go with size first."

"Do you have some secret store of gemstones?"

"I figured out how to bring things back here from Earth," Jackson said.

"I didn't realize it was something you were having trouble with," Shaka said, "especially after you arrived in those strange clothes."

"Yeah. Heh." Jackson scratched his head. "We don't have magic like yours, but gemstones are valued in my world for their rarity and how they look. I can just go buy as many as I can, bring them back here, and stuff them with essence."

"Essence is something I have been meaning to discuss with you," Shaka said. "That is to say, how you gather it. You said you can only obtain it by taking the life of another creature."

Jackson nodded. "So far."

Shaka's wrinkles deepened into a frown. "...I do not like that. Essence takes time to gather; I need several days to replenish my soul. The gemstones help, some, but I must still gather it myself, from the air, the soil. You lack this ability."

"I couldn't use magic originally," Jackson said. "My powers are artificial."

"Why would Shakhan give you powers that work only by leeching from life itself?" Shaka said. "It is troublesome."

"Maybe that's the only way it could be done."

"...maybe," Shaka said. "When you speak to Shakhan, raise that point. Shakhan's words are for you alone; I will have to survive in ignorance. But it something that you should know."

"I will."

"And Jackson."

"Yes?"

"Life is precious," Shaka said. "Do not take it lightly."

"...yes, Shaka."

"That is good. Now, draw the rune for bison."

Jackson knew that one. He was quick to grasp his essence. As always, the grey, steel-brushed lines lagged behind his efforts, slowly materializing a few seconds after he was done moving his hand. He really needed to get his Spirit up. To do that, he needed to kill things. So many things to do.

"Correct," Shaka said. "A pleasant surprise. The rune for nail."

A few seconds later, Jackson's hands were smacked by a switch. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles. "When would I use that one, anyway?"

"To communicate effectively, you must learn every part of a language," Shaka said. "Draw the rune for story."

This time, Jackson got it right. Shaka seemed impressed. "You are making headway. You see? You can do it if you try."

"I knew that," Jackson muttered.

"As did I. You just didn't have the proper motivation. I am happy to be the provider of that motivation."

"I knew you were enjoying this."

"Immensely," Shaka said. "The rune for -"

"Shaka, Shaka!"

They looked back. A little girl wearing a pack that was almost as large as her torso was running to them from the main pack of the Windseekers. She jogged to a stop near the spirit guide, wheezing her breaths. "Shaka...there's...Boonta - Drana is..."

"Spirits, Jula. Catch your breath."

Jula's short legs had to quick-step to keep up with their pace, but Shaka didn't slow a bit. Jula met Jackson's eyes. Jackson smiled and waved at her. He remembered her - she'd told him where Chaki had gone after the ceremony so he could get away from Malaki.

"Jackson Vedalt," Jula said, once her face wasn't so red. "I mean, Tatanka Ska. I'm Jula."

"I remember," Jackson said. "You can still call me Jackson. What's wrong?"

Jula's face lit up for a moment, but then the concern flooded back. "Boonta just proposed to Drana."

"On the road?" Shaka asked. "Ugh. What a mess."

Jackson dipped into his memory. Drana - fun, flirty. A bit on the short side. Vuntha, Hanta's son, was into her. "Chaki's friend, right?" Jackson asked. Jula nodded her head rapidly.

Shaka rubbed her chin. "What foolishness is this? I had understood that Vuntha meant to approach Drana formally at the Mountain Meet."

"Yeah, Chaki told me that," Jula said. "But I was walking near them when Boonta came over and asked for Drana to marry him. It was so sudden. No one knew how to react."

"What did Drana say?" Shaka asked.

"She got really weird. She's never gotten so quiet like that." Jula shook her head. "And then she just said she was honored, and she'd think about it deeply, and give him an answer after the games."

Shaka sighed. "Alright. Jula, be a good girl and return to your mother. Ask her to inform Hanta of what happened. Please don't spread this to anyone else, not yet."

"Yes, Shaka!" Jula dropped back, ducked around a horse, and vanished into the marching tribe.

"What is she, an informant or something?" Jackson asked.

"When I teach the girls to dance, I also teach them who to respect first," Shaka said. "Their spirit guide."

"Does that qualify as a conflict of interest?"

"Of course not," Shaka said. "I am head of the women of the tribe. It is my duty to know these things and deal with them."

"I knew he had an angle, but what the hell is he trying to accomplish by proposing to Drana?"

"Boonta is goading you," Shaka said. "He doesn't care who he has to hurt to do it. Chaki has resisted him, so he turns to someone he believes you consider a friend within the tribe - Vuntha. Everyone knows you spar with him. And so he attacks Vuntha's relationship, indirectly attacking you."

"Right," Jackson said. "How much pain can I inflict on Boonta and remain within proper traditional limits?"

"None," Shaka said.

"He can fuck with me if he wants, but Vuntha is a good guy," Jackson said. "I'm not just going to sit around and -"

"Jackson, stay your hand," Shaka said. "I have a plan."

"...alright. What's the plan?"

"Boonta does not realize what he has disrupted," Shaka said. "Vuntha and Drana's parents have already spoken of their impending match. I have noted and approved of it. Things were proceeding well, and now this." Her eyes narrowed, and the lines on her face deepened. She looked like a hawk about to swoop down and scoop up a rat. "I gave great leeway because he was Yukatan's son, but I have tired of Boonta's selfishness. It is time for him to learn the meaning of the term humility."

"This feels like a conspiracy," Jackson said.

"The older generation is constantly conspiring against the younger," Shaka said. "We have to use our experience to keep you from doing anything stupid."

"Shaka," Jackson said, "you have more balls than any guy I have ever met."

"You're probably right." Jackson half-tripped, stumbled, caught himself. When he looked back up, Shaka was smirking. "You are so young, Jackson."

Jackson considered several responses. He decided that the best thing would be to ignore the immediate implication that he was in the category she just claimed ready to manipulate.

"Getting back to the problem," Jackson said.

Shaka clasped her hands behind her back; she slowed her stride slightly. "Vuntha would smooth Drana's flightiness; Drana's enthusiasm would help support Vuntha and give him more sureness as he begins to leave his father's house. A good pairing. Suddenly, the tribe elder's son has injected himself into what would have otherwise been a strong match." Shaka sighed. "This poses problems. First, you must know that Drana's family has struggled the past three seasons; her older brother, their family's main hunter and provider, passed away from winter sickness."

"Winter sickness?" Jackson asked.

"A high fever, with harsh expulsions," Shaka said. "It drains the body until death."

"You couldn't heal it?"

Shaka shook her head. "There were two other children sick at the time. Chaki was not yet competent. Alone, I could only heal two of the three. He was young enough that I would have considered prioritizing him, but he asked for himself to be healed last. I took care of the children, and the disease killed him before I could gather the essence to save him."

"Damn," Jackson said.

Shaka's face was hard. "Such is life. In their subsequent hardship, Drana's family was reduced to one horse, and their tipi still needs repair before next winter. Boonta would be a great advantage for them. Boonta knows this, of course; he uses it as leverage against her. That, and he is the elder's son. Yukatan would not tolerate the insult of an immediate rejection to Boonta well, especially after Chaki sent him off. They would lose face."

"I think I'm starting to get it," Jackson said. "Boonta has Drana backed into a corner. She can't just come out and say no."

"That is part of it," Shaka said. "Drana made a careful choice. She said she would wait until after the games before answering. That is an important message. It means that she will look for Boonta to prove his worth at the Mountain Meet. But Boonta was smart - he predicted this response."

"...he did?" Jackson said. "I think I'm getting lost again."

"It is easier than runes," Shaka said. "Think for a moment. Who else is competing in the games that you've met recently?"

"That tall guy."

"Katran," Shaka said.

"Right."

"And what do you know of him?"

"He's Boonta's friend."

"And who else will be competing?"

"...Vuntha?"

"Correct."

It struck him. "They're going to team up and knock him out."

"And then rejecting Boonta would become impossible," Shaka said. "He would have fulfilled Drana's expectation, which was the only deflection she could make without insulting Yukatan."

"Why doesn't Drana just up and tell Boonta she likes Vuntha?" Jackson asked.

"Drana and Vuntha's relationship is developing swiftly, but remains raw," Shaka said. "Drana is proud and adventurous. She always was surprised that Chaki turned down Boonta; she may view it as a sort of opportunity."

"She has to know what a fucking asshole he is."

"Girls can be rather silly, sometimes," Shaka said. "Drana figures herself at the center of the world. On one side, her admirer, Vuntha, will fight for her affection; on the other, Boonta, the elder's son, offers her family stability and social position. Either way, she wins. As he is now, Boonta will surely ruin her, but she doesn't see that."

"Alright," Jackson said, "why don't we just pin Drana down and explain this to her?"

"Jackson," Shaka said, "I do not believe I could think of a worse idea than corralling a stubborn young woman and trying to tell her what to do if I had another lifetime in which to consider the problem."

"This is why I get fed up with people," Jackson said. "What is Boonta's problem? Why doesn't he just come after me?"

"He is," Shaka said. "He's trying to get you to compete in the games. He thinks you will stand with your friend, Vuntha, and there you will become Katran's prey - and be publically humiliated."

Jackson set his teeth. "Fine. That fucker wants to play? He picked the wrong guy to mess with."

"You're falling into his trap, you know," Shaka said.

"What else am I supposed to do? I'm not gonna hang Vuntha out to dry."

Shaka smiled; there was a glint in her eye. Jackson squinted at her. She said nothing.

"...so," Jackson said, "what do the games consist of?

"First, a race up and back one of the mountain's paths. Then, archery from horseback. And then, one-on-one matches with spears, in which the winner advances. Performance in each event earns points. The man with the highest number of points overall wins. And then there are the praises for championing individual competitions, of course."

"So, Boonta is going to use Katran to eliminate Vuntha," Jackson said.

"Are you sure? Katran has his own interests at heart."

"It's obvious," Jackson said. "Boonta doesn't need to win the whole contest to get to Drana; he just needs to beat Vuntha. It sounds like the easiest event to cheat in would be the footrace. Katran will make sure Vuntha takes a fall, or worse. He'll probably try to knock him out right there." Jackson thought. "The archery won't be a problem, can't really cheat that. How do they decide matchups for the spear fights?"

"They draw lots."

"Yeah, right. I bet you twenty horses that Katran will be against Vuntha in round one. In fact, that makes even more sense. They'll be able to make sure that I get lined up to fight Katran, too, which is his reward for being a pawn. Then it's smooth sailing for Boonta."

"Boonta is losing respect amongst our tribe," Shaka said, "but as Yukatan's son, he may indeed have the pull he needs to arrange that."

"Do you think Vuntha can take down Katran?"

"In ten battles, Katran would win nine," Shaka said. "Vuntha is skilled, but Katran is truly talented - and he works just as hard to stay sharp."

"I can distract Katran so that Vuntha gets a fair shot in the race, but it doesn't matter if Katran beats him in the first round of the sparring," Jackson said. "What if Vuntha fought Boonta, instead?"

Shaka rubbed her chin. "I am not sure. Boonta has more talent, but that makes him lazy. Vuntha is very dedicated."

"Vuntha has more to lose. He'll win." Jackson nodded to himself. "Alright, I can make this happen."

"What are you going to do?" Shaka asked.

"Magic."

Shaka chuckled. "Thirty minutes ago, you didn't have time for such childish games," she said.

"Times change."

****

Rachel was riding on her horse, Juniper.

Lord Hale's army marched beside her. Hundreds of horses trotted in rows; green-and-black clad soldiers tramped along on foot. Most held spears, but a few contingents had crossbows. The color of their uniforms made them look a forest creeping across the prairie.

The ends of the wide formation were capped by two spikey bushels of pikemen. The pikes were long, hooked weapons made of black steel. The business ends had a wicked 3-part curve; it seemed like they could rip the guts straight out of someone's body if they so much as made a scratch. The dozens of elite warriors holding them up as they marched made an intimidating display. If the rest of the army was a forest, they were the heart of darkness.

Rachel really, really wanted one of the pikes.

She was getting used to the saddle. Juniper - or, as she still preferred to call him, horsey - was an excellent horse. She leaned low to the neck of the animal, rubbing behind its ears.

The movement made her long hair droop around her eyes. The wispy curtain let her look around without anyone seeing where she was looking. Just like sunglasses, but with golden strands of hair. And not really quite as good, but oh well.

More dangerous than trained fighters were the robed men scattered here and there through the ranks. Rachel studied them often. Hale had five mages; they wore solid black robes with green trim. They tended to pair up with officers or linger near where the standard-bearers walked with the troops. Probably something to do with how they were organized.

She'd wanted to watch them use magic, but they put up this strange opaque dome whenever they did any of their prep work. It stopped any flashing light from winking over the plains. Unfortunately, it also deterred prying eyes.

She'd counted about half the army so far, and she was at 1400 troops. Lord Hale had a serious force. She'd need to know all the details she could by the time she made a mad dash for freedom.

Rachel had overheard the scout reports given to Hale - or rather, he had allowed her to hear them because he didn't care. They were about three days behind the tribe they were following, the Windseekers. Their informant had corroborated that information based on the landmarks they were passing. She wasn't sure what the hell landmarks they could possibly mean, because everything out here was flat and coated with grass as far as the eye could see.

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