Aphanasian Stories Page 3

  The square room was dominated by a round table. Hovering

  above the middle of the table, and rotating slowly, was the stone.

  Z'thandra was taken by its beauty, as she always was on the few rare occasions she was able to see it.

  The stone was amazing. It was dark red, blood red, with veins of black. It was about the same size as Z'thandra's head but vaguely ovular rather than round. Its bottom had ragged edges that made it look as though it may have been broken off a larger whole.

  Legend said the stone had originally been a dragon's egg,

  gifted to the inhabitants of the swamp by a great dragon named Phrake. There were dozens of stories about it, but its history was

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  filled with tales of it being stolen back and forth between humans, elves and reptars. It's sheer power and beauty always impressed her.

  It left her in awe, but not with questions. To her, it didn’t matter where it came from, it was here, and it was breathtaking. Of all the things in the village the stone meant the most to her – aside from Grung and Ulda.

  In the stone's presence Z'thandra felt the pounding in her head slowly ebb away and breathed easier, even smiling a little in her relief. Then she turned her eyes to the other occupants of the room and her grin abruptly vanished.

  Seated around the table where the stone hovered was the

  council. Seven stern reptar faces glared down at her from their tall, uncomfortable-looking seats. Finally, after a long, awkward silence in which Z'thandra almost wished her headache hadn't faded away so she wouldn't have smiled, the eldest councilor levered his old body out of his seat and cleared his throat.

  "Eerna, you requested audience with the council to deal with a matter concerning your son, the pits and Z'thandra. Do you swear, by the stone and within its presence, to tell the truth and only the truth?"

  She nodded. "I do."

  "Then you may begin, but I caution you to remember, the

  stone knows your heart and if you attempt to tell a lie or otherwise deceive this council, it will tie your tongue."

  Eerna nodded and waited, once the councilor waved his hand

  and sat down, she started. She paced around the front of the room, and spoke an obviously rehearsed speech with an affected tone of injury that almost caused Z'thandra to roll her eyes.

  "Yesterday at the lake I was minding my own business, getting water to take home, when Z'thandra accosted me, stomping on my tail and then running into me, causing me to almost spill my water."

  Z'thandra heard Ulda's snort of distain behind her and bit the inside of her lips to suppress a smile. Good old Ulda. Eerna glanced over her shoulder, and gave Ulda a look so cold it could freeze the entire lake right though, then looked back at the councilors and continued.

  "So, after I checked to make sure she was alright," Eerna continued. "I, kindly, asked her to watch out for my tail in the future and inquired as to how she'd managed to run into me so blindly. I mean, I think we can all attest to the swamp elf's clumsiness, but

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  barreling into me at full speed without noticing is something a bit extreme even for her."

  "I did not barrel—"

  "You'll have your turn," one of the councilors interrupted and then gestured at Eerna. "Please go on."

  Z'thandra sighed heavily, and her mussed hair fluttered around her face. Fair and balanced. That's how the council referred to themselves, fair and balanced. Her experiences had been quite the opposite and this one was proving to be quite typical. Fair and balanced my knee she thought angrily.

  "I asked her what happened," Eerna went on. "And she told me she had been using that blasted heatvision of hers and hadn't seen me. Hadn't seen me," she repeated, fairly shaking with indignation.

  "I ask you, what kind of vision is it that doesn't let you see Reptars, hmm? Hadn't seen me."

  Several of the councilors nodded in agreement. Z'thandra felt Ulda shift behind her and suspected that the woman was having as difficult a time holding her tongue as she was.

  "Then, as if that weren't enough, when I turned to go down the path, that little whelp says to me, she says, as nice as can be. Oh, Eerna, that little brat says, Eerna, I changed the markers for the pits on the path. Just like that. Watch out for sticks and piles of stones, she says, not the cloth that usually marks them. Well, says I, that's just not right or safe Z'thandra, the whole village uses that path and you can't just go about changing the markers." Here Eerna paused for breath and then continued. "She twisted that face of hers up like she'd just sucked an unripe agtha fruit and stammered something or another at me but I stood fast. Looking out for the best interests of the village I was, and I ordered her to put the fabric back lest anyone fall in a pit and get hurt."

  "And?" one of the councilors prompted after Eerna fell silent for a long moment.

  "Oh," she jumped as though surprised and then continued to prattle on. "And then, this morning when my Itra went out to fetch water, he was the first one up in the whole village this morning, was my Itra, such an industrious boy. Anyway, when he went out to fetch water there were no markers on the path, no cloth or sticks or stones either. I submit to you, Sirs, that there were none because the swamp elf, Z'thandra, hadn't put them back and so, she should be punished for what happened to my Itra. He lay in the bottom of a pit, with his

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  arm broken until, by chance, Orga came by, on her way to get water for her household, no doubt, and found him. She pulled him out and helped him to me, and now I have come to you."

  Orga? Z'thandra's mind whirled and from the sharp intake of

  breath behind her she could tell hers wasn't the only one. Orga never got up before midday if she could help it, and she certainly never fetched water for her family.

  "Has the shaman looked at his arm?" The head councilor stood and asked.

  "He is with him now," Eerna answered. "He said he'd meet us here once he was finished his examination."

  "Very well," the councilor nodded and gestured to Z'thandra.

  "Z'thandra, do you swear, by the stone and within its presence, to tell the truth and only the truth?"

  Wiping the dampness from her hands onto her nightdress,

  Z'thandra stepped forward as Eerna stepped back, switching places with her. She nodded. "I do."

  "Then begin." The councilor said waving his arm and sitting down stiffly.

  "Sirs," she stumbled over the rarely used formal title in the Reptar language, then took a deep breath to calm her nerves and started again. This time her use of the language was flawless, though as always her accent needed work. "Sirs, I was using my heatvision on my way to the lake yesterday, I had to because the markers were missing and it was the only way I could find my way without ending up in a pit."

  A murmur erupted at the table in front of her as the councilors turned to whisper to one another. Z'thandra waited, impatiently, for them to finish and become quiet and ready to listen again and then continued.

  "So I was using my heatvision and I did step on Eerna's tail, but I assure you, Sirs, I wasn't barreling anywhere, I was walking, just walking. I didn't accost her, I –"

  "Are you saying Eerna lied? In front of the stone?"

  "Perhaps not lied Sirs, but, exaggerated." Z'thandra said, though her mind screamed, 'Yes, yes that's what I'm saying. The stone is many things but it is not a truth detector! Yes!'

  The councilors once again exchanged meaningful looks, but

  none spoke this time and Z'thandra continued, choosing her words carefully.

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  "I did step on her tail, Sirs, and I apologized then told her, when she started walking down the path, that the fabric was missing and I'd marked the pits with sticks and stones. I didn't want her to fall and be hurt, Sirs."

  "Because she was saving the trap for my Irta no doubt!" Eerna
snorted behind her.

  The councilors remained silent but Ulda snapped "Oh, be quiet

  – you've had your turn."

  Z'thandra's heart swelled with gratitude toward her foster

  mother and she went on. "But, I did not remove the fabric in the first place. And after taking the water I'd come to get back to Ulda and Grung's house, I returned to the path and re-marked the pits with cloth I tore from one of Ulda's, rags. I'm sorry Irta is hurt Sirs, but I'm not to blame."

  She considered, for a moment about telling them about the

  human she'd thought she'd spotted, but dismissed the idea. That's just one more thing they'd blame me for, she thought and kept silent.

  "Can anyone confirm your story Z'thandra?" the head councilor asked once more, rising before speaking.

  "Ulda helped me tear the fabric into strips and watched me go out to replace them," she began, but the councilor cut her off.

  "But did she watch you replace them? Did she actually see you re-mark the path?"

  "No Sirs," Z'thandra muttered, becoming truly fearful and giving up her hope that the council would see her innocence and spare her from punishment.

  "Did anyone, any reptar," the councilor put an undue amount of stress on the word reptar, "see you re-marking the path?"

  Z'thandra shook her head mutely while behind her Eerna fairly hummed with triumph. The swamp elf could feel it even with her back turned.

  "Then, Z'thandra, the council has no choice but to find you—"

  "Wait!" Ulda stepped forward, standing protectively in front of Z'thandra. "Did anyone, any reptar, actually see Z'thandra take the fabric off? How can you convict her based on a lack of witnesses when Eerna has no witnesses either?"

  The councilors, every one of them, glowered at Ulda. The heat of their combined gazed would have melted most Reptar, but she stood tall and strong, protecting her foster daughter. After one awkward moment stretched into two, then three, and it became

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  obvious Ulda was not going to back down or retract her question, the head councilor leaned on the table and spoke. "This is a small matter, Ulda, between Itra and Z'thandra. Since Itra cannot be here as he is under the care of the shaman, Eerna has come in his place," the reptar paused as though giving Ulda time to process this thought and then continued. "Because it is a small matter, because Z'thandra's crime was against an individual rather than the village as a whole, she must prove herself innocent. You know this Ulda, you, at least, are Reptar. The swamp elf has not met her burden of proof, thus, we find her guilty. Stand down Ulda, lest you share her fate."

  "I will not—"

  "It's okay," Z'thandra said gently, resting a hand on Ulda's shoulder and urging her back to the relative safety of standing behind her. She felt anything but okay, in fact, everything felt anything but okay and Z'thandra couldn't stop the shaking in her hand as she pulled her foster mother back. "It's okay Ulda, please, there's no reason for both us to pay the penalty."

  "It's not okay Z'thandra." Ulda said, her reptilian eyes scanning the elf's face earnestly. "You shouldn't be so willing to take the punishment for other people so often, now especially. It's not okay."

  "I've been in trouble before," Z'thandra whispered, lowering her voice so that none of the councilors who studied her with their cold indifference could hear. "Last time they made me scrub the burn marks off Uther's house after he accused me of scattering the coals of his cook fire and lighting the brush, remember? How much worse can it be this time?"

  Z'thandra watched Ulda look from the councilors to herself,

  then to Eerna and back to her. Ulda wrung her hands in front of her and then sighed. Her shoulders dropped and she nodded and took another step back. Then, Z'thandra stepped forward and lifting her chin proudly, met the gaze of the lead councilor.

  "Yes, Sirs?" she prompted, hoping the disdain she held toward them didn't leach, too obviously, into her voice.

  "Z'thandra," he intoned solemnly. "This council has no choice but to find you guilty of recklessly endangering one of the village and causing him to fall into a pit and break his arm. It is our judgment you receive five stones. May Phrake have mercy on you and prompt your heart to sincere repentance for your deeds."

  Z'thandra heard Ulda and Eerna both gasp at the severity of her punishment, but the sounds came as to her as though from a long

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  way away. Her knees went weak and her entire body began to

  tremble. She reached out blindly for something to hold herself up with and sagged thankfully against Ulda as the woman thrust herself under Z'thandra's arm.

  "You can't be serious?" Ulda exclaimed pointing a scaly green finger at the councilors. "Five stones? Criminals, real criminals, get less than that."

  Five stones. Z'thandra didn't hear the council's response, or Ulda's if she made one. She was lost in her thoughts. Five stones.

  She'd seen it done before, once. After that one time, the punishment was so brutal she'd made whatever excuse she could to never attend a stoning again.

  Five stones.

  At dusk, right before the magic moment when the last ray of

  the day's sunlight slipped into memory she would be brought, her hands bound behind her, to the sacred clearing. There she would be made to kneel, in the center of a circle comprised of all the members of the village who were able-bodied enough to make the short

  downhill trek. All those who wanted to be included in the draw to be tossers would throw their mark into the high councilor's hat and he would draw out the allotted number – in her case, five. The tossers would have a few short moments to pick their stones from those scattered around the clearing and then, in the instant the sun slipped below the horizon, pulling its last tendrils of light down with it, they would throw them.

  People, reptar, were occasionally stoned to death, but with a sentence of five stones the tossers would not chose rocks they thought would cause that – they would aim to hurt, not to kill. Those people who'd been stoned in the past were easy to recognize around the village, they were invariably scarred, disfigured and broken.

  Their hearts, their spirits and their bodies.

  Five stones.

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  Aphanasian Stories

  Chapter Six

  Z'thandra was jostled back into reality as the shaman burst

  through the door and stepped in front of her, nudging her gently on his way by.

  "Itra's arm," he declared, his voice strong and sure as he addressed the council, "is not broken."

  Every member of the council looked flabbergasted. Their jaws

  went slack and the head councilor started to sit down in his chair then caught himself and straightened back up. After a moment's silence during which Z'thandra could almost hear her fear rolling around in the pit of her stomach, everyone began to talk at once.

  "It is so, I saw it –"

  "Then we can go home now –"

  "Are you certain?"

  The head councilor banged his fist on the table and everyone in the room fell silent and stared up at him. "Are you certain?" he repeated.

  The shaman nodded. "Very certain. It looks bruised, but it is not broken. In fact, it's not even as bruised as I would have expected considering the fall into the pit and the way he says he landed on it."

  "So, we can go home then?" Ulda asked hopefully.

  The councilors all stood and got into a huddle, whispering

  frantically between themselves. Finally, after several moments during which Z'thandra felt certain she was going to collapse on the floor and Ulda quaked beneath her arm, the councilors returned to their seats.

  "You can go home," the head councilor, the only one remaining upright said. Then, as Ulda began to turn around, still supporting her foster daughter's frame, he held out a hand. It effectively stopped Ulda and silenced Eerna who'd just opened her mouth. "You can go home, but Z'thandra, you will s
till be punished."

  So long as it wasn't the stones Z'thandra was certain she could withstand any punishment. She nodded, still resting much of her weight on Ulda and the head councilor continued.

  "Though Itra's arm is not broken you've still committed a crime by removing and not replacing the fabric marking the pits, which could actually be construed as a crime against the village," the councilor paused and Z'thandra thought she saw the faintest hint of a satisfied smile dance on the corners of his mouth at her obvious

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  horror. Then he continued, "However, since this inquiry began as a civil matter, we've chosen to end it as one."

  "Yeah, because if they don't they have to prove you've done something wrong," Ulda muttered beside Z'thandra.

  "Therefore," the councilor continued, "you are hereby sentenced to working on scavenger patrol for the next four seasons."

  "A year of scavenger patrol? You can't be serious! That's far too dangerous for a young girl to do, and for a whole year?" Ulda protested, but Z'thandra straightened her spine and rested a hand upon her foster mother's forearm.

  "No Ulda, it's okay." Z'thandra nodded graciously to the council. "Thank you Sirs." She said and backed out of the room, pulling Ulda along with her. The councilors said nothing, nor did the shaman or Eerna – they all simply watched her go.

  Once outside of the room, Z'thandra turned around and

  practically ran out of the council house. She stopped the instant she was outside to hug Ulda and allow the sob she'd been holding in since her initial sentencing escape. The two women, swamp elf and reptar, collapsed unashamedly into one another's arms and sobbed with relief. It was only when the distinctive nasally voice of Eerna whining to the shaman about his poor timing came to them that they stood up and hurried back to their house, hand in hand.

  Four seasons on the scavenging patrol, Z'thandra thought.

  Well, at the very least it would give her a chance to see for herself if there really was a human in the swamp, and there were certainly worst punishments that could have been meted out – like, for