The next day, early, Seth, Tristan, Mgwan and Wynforr started through the tunnels, accompanied by their Dwarf escort. These tunnels would take them through this first mountain and put them on their way to the next set. The pass from the Dwarf king would ensure that they had a very quick and easy passage, as quick and easy as any passage could be for someone walking through the mountains. Stooping through the hallways, Seth wished that he had been able to stay as a Dwarf. But he hardly had the energy to change back now, and his Farmer form was necessary politically.
But he did think that Mgwan should change. Marshmen are marvellously suited for walking in the swamps, none better. But they are very poorly adapted to walking on anything else. In their usual jobs, this didn’t matter much, as they did a lot of standing. But they would be walking for days, and Seth worried that Mgwan would be deadbeat by the time they got to where they were going.
“Mgwan,” he said, “why don’t you change to a Dwarf? You will find walking through these tunnels much easier.”
Mgwan stared at him and stammered out, “But I have never changed before.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. We can talk Dwarf to you, you’ve been eating Dwarf food, and you will probably change tonight, or by tomorrow night.”
A panicked look came over Mgwan’s face. He seemed unable to talk. Eventually, Seth put him out of his misery. “Oh well, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. No skin off my feet.”
Seth wondered what had happened there.
So did Mgwan. He had seen Seth and Tristan change. Why had the idea of him changing panicked him so?
Tristan wondered, too. What was so hard about changing? Well, his first change had been hard, as had Seth's. And his second change, too. He mulled it over. He guessed that much of the problem for Mgwan was fear--fear of the new, fear of the unknown.
Fear also, thought Wynforr, of the customs and thoughts of the Dwarves. In many ways, Dwarves were the opposite of Marshmen. Marshmen lived mainly out of doors, hid their families, and were never tied down to any particular place. Dwarves lived indoors, their families mingling freely with others, and were tied, solidly locked, to their homes and lived as one great community. Homes carved out of solid rock. It was hard to get any more tied down than homes carved out of solid rock.”
Days later, Mgwan had not resolved his fear. He was still a Marshman, he was still sore, he was exhausted from extended claustrophobia, and he was very, very glad that they were finally done with these mountains. The plan was to meet Seth's Father, the King, in the foothills just out of the mountains. The Dwarves said that he and the bandits had been playing cat and mouse in this area, and they had taken him Seth's message as to where and when to meet.
Mgwan was looking forward to these foothills. And he was hoping to meet a Hera 9. He had never in his life met a Troll and was looking forward to it. Also, anything had to be better than those hard stone floors.
But he was to be disappointed, at least at first. They tramped through the valleys between two hills (their Dwarf guides showing them the way) for two days without seeing a single Troll, although they could hear, from time to time, their booming calls. Toward the evening of the second day, they saw, in the valley below them, the tents of the King’s party.
A soldier rode quickly up to them and, finding it was Seth’s party, took Seth on horseback to the king. Mgwan was a bit disappointed but couldn’t feel too left out, though, as Wynforr and Tristan stayed. His disappointment turned to alarm, however, when he heard a sudden shouting from behind and to the left of the way they had come. Soldiers began boiling out of tents, grabbing their weapons and their horses. Seth and his Father burst out of their tent. But before the King or his soldiers could organise anything, raiders came galloping over the hill… their charge aiming straight for the King’s tent.
Soldiers hurried to put themselves between the attackers and the King. The King, drawing his sword and grabbing his horse, thought first of his Son. “Run!” he said. Wynforr, Tristan, and Mgwan, still a dozen yards from the tent, prepared themselves to flee with the Prince, but before they could move more than a couple of steps, the riders had burst through the first line of soldiers and flung themselves upon them.
“It is likely that none of the riders had any idea who Seth was, no word of his presence having reached them, and this certainly saved all of their lives. The King had mounted and was the raider’s main target; his shouted commands ensured their full attention. It was all he could do. As their prime target, attracting their attention and then fighting well would be the only way for him to distract them from his Son. Having fought them for the last few weeks, he was at the top of his game: holding off everyone that came near him and giving his soldiers time to organise their counterattack.
Unfortunately, being a lesser target did not completely free the others from attack. As the riders worked to surround the King, they were not hesitant to strike at anyone in their way. Mgwan avoided several such blows, annoying one rider enough that he chased him. The horse, however, seemed to shy away from the Marshman… perhaps he had never seen one before, and Mgwan was able, by dodging and running in turn, to hold him off long enough for him to lose interest. After all, why chase a Marshman, a cook?
Continuing to run, for the fight was raging wider and wider, Mgwan struggled to see the others. At last, he saw Seth and Tristan, with Tristan seeming to be almost carrying Seth. Unfortunately, they were going in a rather different direction than he was. He had to keep going in his direction because battles were still raging between them.
Two hours later, Mgwan finally stopped running. It had been half an hour since he had last seen a bandit or a soldier, though he couldn’t really be sure which was which. He dropped to the ground, exhausted, and began to think. What am I going to do now? He had a general idea of where Seth and Tristan were (or what direction they had gone, anyway), but going that way would put him right back through whoever it was. He had no idea where Wynforr was nor if the King had survived. Even if he were to return to the camp, the King didn’t know him.
What was he to do?
Seth awoke. Sort of. His head ached abominably, with crocodiles chasing wild buffaloes around inside it, and he couldn’t seem to move his left arm. He couldn’t see that well either; everything was dark. He knew, from the way his headache was a ‘report’ instead of a distraction, that he was in Elf form. He had changed so often recently that he occasionally woke up confused--but he could usually see.
He lay still for a while more, a task that was much easier when he was an Elf. His mind analysed what he could see and could hear. Suddenly (perhaps the blow on his head had affected his ability to analyse), he realised what he was seeing and hearing. He was in an underground--cave? House? And there was only a smouldering fire to light the room. And he was staring at a black ceiling inches above his head. He reached up carefully with his good hand and confirmed his opinion. There was someone else in the room, just a few feet to his left. He turned his head quietly.
There, tending the fire, was a Troll.
Seth had never seen a Troll before. While he had learned all of the island’s languages, his Father had been unable to obtain a Troll for him to learn from; he had instead learnt from the same Elf who taught him the Elf language. Herra almost never left their home areas. And Seth had, for some reason, an almost pathological fear of them. Luckily, the Elf body handled fear particularly well. It took it, analysed it, and compared fact to reality. Seth found himself doing this due to his fear of Herra.
What did he know about Herra? That they were large? That they were very private or shy. That they were not people to fool around with? That they could turn invisible or something of that sort--which of these caused his fear? In the light of his recent adventures, Seth fairly quickly decided (his Elf brain was really excellent at this kind of thing) that his fear was irrational. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a croaking sound came out.
It was enough. The Troll at the fire turned in his direction, and any remnants of Seth's fear dissipated. For ‘it’ was a ‘she’, and she had an infant clinging to her chest, nursing, in much the same way that Elf and Visser children could do. She was large, true, but the child at her breast so screamed ‘mother’ at him that Seth couldn’t think of her as possibly hostile.
She came over to him with a bowl of water. He drank it gratefully, sipping it at first. He heard a noise from the corner and looked over. There, on a blanket, her other five children were playing. He wondered how it would feel to be one of a ‘litter’ of six children, to grow up with five other people your own age. And to know that that was it--that your mother probably wouldn’t have any more children.
He had to stop drinking; he was feeling sick to his stomach. He wondered just how badly he was hurt. With his right hand, he could feel a large bandage on his head, and his left arm was tightly bound against his body. He finally felt that he could talk, “Where--where am I?” he managed in his very rusty Troll.
The Troll squatted, her knees almost above her head. “You are about five miles from where the battle was fought.”
“Did you hear how it turned out?”
“The King survived the battle, although he was wounded. His troops, although they won the battle, did not feel they could protect him here and have moved off toward their home.”
“Does he know I am here?”
“Yes, but it was thought you were too badly wounded to be moved, so he asked that we take care of you here.”
“Thank you. That was very kind of you.”
“Your Father is well known among the Herra. We greatly respect him. He has helped us in the past. For years, the Farmers would raid our flocks, seemingly just for the fun of it. Then, when we would strike back, they would get upset and try to hunt us down. Foolish, of course, and it cost them many more than it cost us. But still, it was not a pleasant time.”
“I had heard a little about it.” Seth thought for a moment. “How long have I been here?”
“You have been ill almost a week.”
“What happened to my friends?”
“Your friend Tristan is here. He has been out with my Husband and the sheep. Your other friend, Wynforr, sent word that he was going with the King and would meet you when you were better. Your other friend, the Marshman, we don’t know what happened to him. The bandits were out in force around here, and we have had problems moving about and searching for him. He was seen to leave the battlefield, chased by a bandit. But his body was not found.”
Seth sat back. Mgwan lost--a Marshman, lost in the middle of Troll country, with bandits all over.
And if he was too injured to be moved, he must be too injured to go out looking for him. He was just mulling over what to do when he heard a noise at the door. He looked up and saw Tristan walk in, followed by a young Troll.
“Tristan,” Seth said.
“You are awake,” Tristan responded. “That is good.”
“I was just told about Mgwan. I can’t bear the thought of him out there, alone in the hills.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him,” Tristan said, “I imagine he will take care of himself.”
“But what could he do?”
“Well, if he got away from the bandit that was chasing him, he could decide that the best thing to do was to transform into a Troll and then search for us.”
If Seth hadn’t leaned back, his head hurting, he would have seen the grin on Tristan’s face. “I don’t think he would do that--he was too afraid of changing. Have you looked for him?”
“Yes, although we couldn’t go far. He would have to come to us. He knew the direction we were headed. If he looked long enough, he could find us.”
Although Seth’s head was pounding, he still sensed that something strange was going on. “Do you think he could do that?”
“If he was patient enough and careful enough, he could avoid all the patrols and find us. It would help that Herra can hide so well and that they have an excellent sense of smell.”
“Indeed,” put in the young Troll who had come in with Tristan, “You can smell an Elf from miles away.”
Seth sat up, banging his head on the ceiling. “Mgwan!” he said, laying back down and rubbing his head.
“Yes. I seem to have overcome my fear of transformations.” Indeed, he had. Seth didn’t blame himself for not having noticed that it was Mgwan. Besides the effect of the dim light, the transformation to Troll had dramatically changed the Marshboy. All-over white fur, hugely long legs, a tall, thin face--He looked almost nothing like the Marshman that he had been before. But his voice, even speaking Troll, had been distinctive.
“I had gotten separated from you all; I was being hunted down by bandits--I was all alone. The ability of Herra to hide themselves suddenly became of much higher importance than my fear of transformations. I spent all of one afternoon hiding in a ditch mumbling to myself in Trol and woke up with the ability to do this!”
At that, he began to change colour, from the solid white he had been, to a mottled black and brown, reflecting the walls of the cave/house they were in. When he was done, he was practically invisible. “It is even more effective outside when you don’t know I am there,” Mgwan said, turning back to white, “It kind of ruins the whole thing when you know exactly where I am already.”
Seth lay back, exhausted from even this brief conversation. His Elf mind, always wanting to be busy, spent some time analysing how much easier it would have been for Mgwan to turn into a Troll than a Dwarf. Herra were known for their private family life, though still more open than Marshman, as evidenced by his presence in the cave. They were still a far cry from the openness of Dwarf society. Plus, while Herra caves were fixed, and they lived in one valley their whole life, their daily task involved following herds around outside.
Links
Island People is a young adult fantasy book centring on a young prince. The book starts with his kidnapping and follows his adventures as he not only escapes from his kidnapper but gains critical allies and friends.
The entire book is scheduled on Substack, and there are several sequels. This is a book I wrote years ago, so it is in a bit of a rough form. Critiques and comments are more than welcome, they are requested.
Chapter 3: Transforming Culture
Chapter 7: The Better Part of Wisdom
Chapter 8: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Chapter 9: He who has Ears to Hear, Let Him Hear
Chapter 11: Unto the Third Generation
Chapter 12: Payment for Services Rendered
Chapter 13: Down the River (again)
Chapter 21: And Why can’t I Speak to the King?
Contract Marriage
Contract marriage is an adult dystopia examining the issues of marriage. Like 1984 and Brave New World, Contract Marriage treats the relations between the sexes as a fundamental aspect of how a society is formed and, thus, how a society can go wrong.
Unlike those dystopias, Contract Marriage isn’t all horrible all of the time. The characters for the most part have a good time and get along in their society. But the issues of sexuality, of marriage or not, monogamy or not, faithfulness or not, and gender roles… keep coming up and causing tension and conflict and joy and pain.
My desire is that my readers would be thinking along with my characters about these issues and perhaps even arrive at the same place (minus the flying cars).Introduction
In which I lay out the themes that I intend to explore in this light Dystopia, and ask others to participate.
Trade Master: First Chapter
In which Fenestra, our heroine’s mother, puts in her application for the job of 'Trade Master’ on the planet Libertas, and finds out that it isn’t that easy.
En-Drek Contract
In which Fenestra finds out that, on Libertas, everyone must be in an ‘En-drek’ contract… a long-term, live-in, heavy date between a man and a woman for the purpose of producing one child after the other with one date after the other.
Disappointment and Meditation
In which Jellia, the daughter and our heroine, finds out about her mother’s job opportunity, including its difficulties, and commits herself to meditating on the situation. (And internally commits herself to encouraging her mother to take the job.)
Decision Reached
Jellia tells her mother that she thinks she should take the job, and so her mother puts in her application… and gets the job!
First School
Jellia goes to school and gets to tell everyone about her new adventure.
First Work
Fenestra goes to work, and tells her coworker about her new opportunity.
Writing Class
Jellia writes a poem (a limerick) and tells her classmates more about her new adventure.
Trader Galloway
In which a man comes over for a ‘date’ (Ie to sleep over with her mother) and to tell them all about his time as Trade Master for their company on Libertas. And as how he was almost executed for asking a woman out on a date.
Shopping
In which Jellia and her mother go shopping for the last time, and we explore some of the nature of the planet she is leaving.
Language
In which Jellia starts using some new words at school, and everyone gathers round to find out what they mean.
Kesh-i Cooking Class
In which Jellia discovers that girls (daughters, Kesh-u-i) are expected to cook on Libertas!
Trade Master Training
In which Fenestra goes to get trained for her new post and finds out is that annoying man, Alex, who will be doing the training.
Two-Week Date
In which Fenestra agrees to a two-week exclusive date with Alex, and Jellia learns more about the dating rules.
The Facts of Life
In which Jellia learns that dating can be difficult for men, too.
Appendix
A glossary of many of the terms used in this book, along with a discussion of the calender and cultural issues. It is a work in progress, and I’m hoping for comments and discussion there.