500 FY | 3501 BC
Since the dawn of Fabella, trolls called the jagged northwest coastline of a distant continent home. Trolls were halflings no taller than five feet or so. Hair in a variety of colors grew all over their little bodies. Even the female tresses sported full-length beards combined with their pronounced forehead, small noses, and big eyes. Their most unique physical feature was their feet which doubled as a second set of hands capable of grasping objects and hanging from trees.
One of these tresses was Mosa. The red hair layering her little body flew behind her as she ascended the hill outside her hut to gather food. Her stubby fingers tore off every ripe piece of fruit from branches in her path. The tough leathery soles of her feet helped her climb up trees further than most animals in the area could reach. Any piece of sustenance she could get her hands on landed in her basket. She only paused to unstrap her infant daughter from her back and tend to the baby’s needs. Mosa kept at her task until the basket was too heavy to lift.
She had the energy to do more, but — without any way to transport produce heavier than she could lift — Mosa had to head back to her village stationed at the foot of Mount Kabam.
Mid-Kathara where her people constructed the sleepy community of Saci, was home to a temperate rainforest environment. Soil around the base of Mount Kabam was rich and perfect for growing crops. Its position near freshwater also made the lush region ideal for a settlement. The troll people of Saci couldn’t hope for a better set up.
Her infant daughter, Loo, squirmed around in the pouch strapped to her mother’s back trying to free herself. Mosa reached behind her to tickle Loo’s itty bitty toes behind her back in an effort to comfort the little girl as she migrated through a group of huts thatched with grass. A pair of troll hunters passed by her carrying some bones from a meal to discard at the communal garbage dump. Mosa also passed two trolls working beside a hut threshing grain with forks, repeatedly lifting it to allow the fine, wispy materials to blow away in the breeze.
Baby Loo continued to squirm on her mother’s back. Nothing in Fabella — not even food — was as important as making sure her little girl grew up safe and strong. Such parental responsibility was lost on Dusan, her mate, who had sired many children and didn’t feel a single ounce of attachment to any of them. Mosa would certainly be the only parental figure Loo was likely to know, and she was bent on fulfilling that role at any cost.
“I just fed you.” Mosa scolded her daughter, knowing the girl was still too young to respond. “What’s got you so antsy?”
Ka-BOOM!
A peal of thunder sent shockwaves over the troll village.
The sky darkened over Mosa as clouds blocked out the clear blue sky strewn with stars. This was the largest clap of thunder she’d ever heard. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up into the sky. No rain or flash of lightning greeted them. This was not a storm, it was something far worse.
The entire side of Mount Kabam exploded. A river of lava flowed down the slope, igniting every tree and shrub that stood in its way.
The ground quaked under her feet as Mosa scrambled to race as fast as she could out of the village as magma slowly ate up the only home she knew.
Ash rained down on her like snow.
Loo started coughing under the punishing cloud of complete and utter devastation.
Thinking fast, Mosa tore Loo off her back and held the baby close to her chest. She covered Loo’s face with fabric from her dress.
A cave loomed before her. It was the only piece of shelter that could safeguard Mosa against the punishing eruption. Several trolls were already inside the cave. There was just enough room for Mosa to squeeze inside as the horrifying dark cloud of mayhem swept over them.
Mosa wandered around the powdery gray jungle floor, which used to be so full of life. Some of her best friends became frozen, lifeless statues, under piles of ash. She wandered through the scorched forest, which used to be full of fruit, ripe for the picking. Orange peels littered the forest floor, barren stems poked up from the dry ground, squashed berries rotted under her feet, and bugs searched for nonexistent food.
She didn’t know why she continued searching around the hellish blackened land she used to call home, with an empty basket. At this point, it was more out of duty to her people than anything else, but she felt that her newborn daughter required more of her attention than looking for some food.
Mosa’s tribe found shelter in a shallow cave on the southern edge of the region. With little buffer against the elements, Mosa and the remaining citizens of former Saci were thrust into a precarious existence. Trolls argued amongst themselves over whether they should stay or go. As a female tress, Mosa had no say in the matter. The right choice was obviously to leave Mount Kabam behind. There was nothing for them anymore. The longer they stayed, the closer to death every single one of them would be.
The troll hunters in her company made spears from antlers and sticks, tipped with blades chipped from stones as they went out to hunt for non-existent wild game. Theirs was a life and death contest for survival with other beasts, requiring ingenuity and dexterity. Foraging no longer provided enough food to sustain them. Instead, they had to hunt the herds of large mammals. Dangerous work for many trolls.
Mosa followed the troll hunters around on their expedition hoping to score a bit of food she could use to settle her grumbling stomach. That day the hunters were after smaller game. At midday, when the outside temperature was warmest, the tribe left the protection of the cave to check on a trap set the day before. They clothed themselves in the furs and hides of different animals, sewn together with needles fashioned from small animal bones. Each type of animal skin offered a different level of insulation from the elements.
The group walked silently over the powdery gray ground until they reached patches of exposed dirt and wet ground animal tracks had been seen the day before. They walked in single file, always watchful for the danger that may lurk ahead from a larger predator, or the appearance of opportunity in the form of a carcass left behind. Mosa foraged along the way. She was lucky enough to find berries and gathered them into her basket.
At the trap, they rejoiced to see that they’d successfully snared a jackalope. They brought the animal back to their camp at the mouth of the cave, where they skinned it and placed the raw flesh over a fire.
Jackalopes were rabbits with tiny antlers on their heads.
There was barely enough meat to go around all the hunters. Mosa was able to get a little bit by offering to trade with the youngest boy in the group. He gave her half of his share in exchange for a handful of raspberries Mosa had been fortunate enough to find. It was an even trade she was happy to make.
Mosa set Loo down on the ground while she dug into her pouch for the raspberries. As she was about to drop them into the boy’s outstretched hands, the boy’s eyes suddenly widened in horror. All the other troll hunters suddenly became deathly quiet as well.
Following their gaze, Mosa spun around to see a snarling alphyn crouched directly over Loo.
Loo was still alive and well, but it was clear to Mosa that she had interrupted the vicious canine before it tore into the infant.
Canine alphyns shared many characteristics with the griffin family, including the scaly, eagle-like forelegs, and sharp bird eyes. Commonly associated with fire, the alphyn’s flowing yellow mane and tufts of yellow on its orange body made it look as though the canine beast was indeed on fire as it streaked across the landscape.
This alphyn was a female vixen. She barred her teeth in a low threatening growl.
The hunters behind Mosa picked up their spears, ready to strike the beast down. Mosa motioned for them to get back. If they acted too soon, they could spook the alyphyn and inadvertently cause the canine to sink its teeth into Loo.
The boy whom Mosa had traded with suddenly launched himself at the alyphyn.
The alphyn turned her attention to the boy, rearing back on her hind legs and digging her dark claws into his neck.
Mosa dove forward to scoop up Loo.
The alphyn had just enough time to snap the boy’s neck before hunters threw their spears at the wild beast. The alphyn vixen scampered into the forest of blackened trees and out of sight. The boy lay dead at Mosa’s feet in a pool of his own blood.
Mosa headed back to the cave with the hunting party, just in time to meet the Ravenea tribe of goblins, who had come down from the north to trade. This annual joining of two very different tribes had always been the occasion of many celebrations. The nomadic goblins always brought fantastic artifacts from the other tribes they traded with, up and down the northwest coast. They dragged their goods on sleds, fashioned from fallen palm trees, all over the island. Mosa was well acquainted with the use of sleds; the trolls of Saci had used sleds on a daily basis to transport their produce. It was back-breaking work. Mosa wished there could be an easier way to move large amounts of material.
Her high spirits plummeted when she saw the sad state of the goblin tribe. They were worse off than the trolls. Some type of fierce predator must have viciously assaulted the tribe because every one of the goblins sported bruises up and down their dark green bodies. Furs were ripped, jewelry was missing, pieces of broken vases littered their sleds. It only got worse when they demanded food as payment for their goods. Food the trolls couldn’t part with.
“Have a heart.” The troll chief tried appealing to Chief Lasureth, the goblin leader. “Food is scarce. There is only enough fruit left on the land that has been spared to get us through the season.”
“Not my problem,” spat Lasureth. “You should move your settlement.”
This was not the first time the idea of leaving had been brought up. Mosa’s chief put his foot down and said the same thing he always did. “Our families have lived and died here. This is our land. We aren’t leaving it.”
Mosa spied an odd contraption behind the goblins. A large circular wooden disk attached to a woven basket. “What is that?”
Lasureth dove in front of the contraption, to hide it from view. “That is not for sale.”
“But what is it?” repeated Mosa.
“Stay out of this,” hissed the chief, out of the corner of his mouth. “You know how much we need this trade. Don’t anger them.”
Kind Rossana, Lasureth’s mate, stepped forward. Mosa had seen her many times before. The goblin had always been one to clothe herself in the finest furs and necklaces, from tribes all over the island. Whoever or whatever assaulted the goblin tribe had taken her precious materials, leaving her with only a blanket to drape over her naked body. “It’s a wheel.”
“Hush!” fired back Lasureth.
Rossana would not be dissuaded so easily. “What’s the harm in telling them?”
“It is too dangerous,” snapped Lasureth. “If the humans found out, it would be the end of us. We can’t sacrifice everything we’ve done for this doomed colony.”
“What happened?” Speaking up earned Mosa immediate withering looks from all the trolls in attendance, causing her to shrink back into the crowd.
“Last hadhayosh season, we came across a human village called Eriku, near the mountains. They are the direct descendants of an ancient settlement our race attacked, so you can see why they were not exactly overjoyed to see us,” began Rossana. “They developed this disk they called a ‘wheel,’ to help them transport their food quicker and easier than using sleds.”
Chopping down trees, and moving a sled laden with food over the logs, was a technique used throughout the coastline. It was hard work, made more difficult by the uneven forest floor and the close proximity of tree trunks and giant flower stems. The trolls’ size made it difficult to do such work. That was why they had to develop their talent with agriculture. The rich soil at the foot of Mount Kabam provided the richest farmland they had ever come across. Now it was all gone.
“Naturally, we wanted to see what this new ‘wheel’ was. We tried approaching a small group of women about it, but they ran away. Then my husband,” Rossana rolled her eyes, “in his infinite wisdom, had the bright idea to try stealing the wheel. Well, you can assume how embarrassing it was for the Eriku men to emerge from the jungle, and see us with their precious —”
“— Yer not telling it right!” shouted Lasureth. “I was there. I know what happened.”
“Well, I don’t see you telling the story,” shot back Rossana. “I’m the one telling it, and I’ll continue as I see fit.”
Lasureth launched into a dramatic retelling of his version of the story. “Men and women, great and small, strong and weak —”
“– Oh, get on with it,” groaned Rossana.
“Don’t rush me.” Lasureth went back to his story. “They were all using this device called a weed.”
“Wheel,” corrected Rossana.
“That’s what I said.” Lasureth continued as if his mate had never interrupted him. “We were looking at the weed, minding our own business, when a bunch of men attacked us for no reason.”
“They cut off my fingers.” A goblin male held up a hand missing three digits.
“They broke my legs,” cried another male.
“And they set fire to my beard,” finished Lasureth.
“His beard will never be the same,” echoed Rossana.
“It used to reach all the way down to my feet! Now look at it.” Lasureth gestured to his dirty brown locks. “It won’t even reach past my belly button.”
Mosa no longer cared about how anybody looked at her. If the humans used the wheel to transport their food, it stood to reason that the trolls could utilize it as well, to enhance their farming technique. The wheel could possibly extend their territory, and make it easier to carry more produce. It could save the beleaguered tribe from certain ruin.
“What happened next?” Mosa asked.
“Oh, we spent the entire season trying to barter with them. Our ancestors being the ones who drove them out of Caye didn’t help matters.” Lasureth measured his beard as if to judge whether it had grown at all since he checked it last. “These humans are very protective of their weed.”
“They’re tired of being weak. The wheel is the first major advantage they’ve had,” argued Rossana. “We’d do the same thing.”
“So you traded with them, and the humans let you have the wheel,” concluded Mosa.
Rosanna nodded. “Aye. Cost us all our food and most of our clothing to do it.”
The trade between the humans of Eriku and the goblin Ravenea tribe was obviously not meant to benefit them. Depriving them of all their food was an indirect way of killing off the race that drove their ancestors away from their original home. Mosa wondered if Lasureth and Rossana knew this. They must have thought they could replenish their food supply by trading in Saci. Unfortunately, Mount Kabam’s eruption put an end to that idea. The only other tribe in the area that goblins could trade with was the human Arbadac tribe, located somewhere in the northwest. Judging by how the last deal with a human village had gone, things didn’t look promising for the goblins.
Without trading with the goblins, there was no way the trolls could survive. Every tribe that dealt with them might now be in jeopardy. The trolls needed wheels to expand their farmland, but the goblins staunchly refused to part with their own wheels, even when confronted with the truth that the trolls would die of starvation. They needed the wheel.
“Where can we find Eriku?” demanded Mosa.
“Enough,” barked Lasureth. “If humans found out we told you about the weed, they would slaughter our whole tribe.”
“Right,” nodded the troll chief. “We could make our own wheels, but it’s too dangerous. Mount Kabam’s eruption has crippled us. We are weak people and do not need to make more enemies.”
Mosa wasn’t afraid of the humans. Just because one human might see them using the wheel was no reason not to attempt making it for themselves. “But —”
“I won’t endanger the lives of my tribe. We can live without the wheel,” spat the troll chieftain of Saci. “Forget about it.”
Mosa couldn’t forget. Her interest was piqued the moment she saw the wheel attached to the basket. There were so many things they could do with it. Somewhere in the west lurked a human settlement capable of saving the tribe from famine. It was obvious from their lack of interest that nobody else in the village took talk of the wheel seriously. They refused to think about how big a problem the lack of food would be for everyone. How would baby Loo fare if Mosa could no longer provide the nutrients she needed to survive? Something had to be done.
As much as Mosa wanted to set out for permission to use the wheel, she couldn’t do it alone. She didn’t know the way, and she needed a companion to protect her and Loo from harm. None of the trolls would entertain the idea of seeking the wheel, nor would any of the goblins . . . except one.
Rossana brought up the wheel. Mosa logically assumed she knew the way to the human settlement. Speaking to Chief Lasureth’s wife would require some finesse, as the hunters of both tribes would surely put a stop to Mosa’s admittedly dangerous quest. Lasureth seemed to sense Mosa’s intent because he wouldn’t leave Rossana’s company. A chance to speak with her didn’t come until the sour goblin leader fell asleep.
Mosa crept up behind Rossana, while she watched their one aptelion goat graze on dry grass. “Where is Eriku?”
Rossana turned to face Mosa, and smiled. “You’re the girl who spoke up earlier.”
“I have a child who desperately needs to be fed.” Mosa gestured to the sleeping, malnourished Loo, cradled in her arms. “We won’t make it through the season with the food we have left.”
“Humans aren’t so weak, dear. They are stronger than we would like to think.” Rossana returned her gaze to the aptelion. “Could you really put that child of yours through the pain of losing a mother?”
“Please.” Tears welled up in Mosa’s eyes. “You have to help.”
“Not sure if they’ll let you have it . . . but I must agree, the wheel is your only hope.”
“So you’ll come with me?” asked Mosa hopefully.
“No.”
Her spirit plummeted. “You must.”
“Don’t tell me what I have to do,” snapped Rossana. “I have Lasureth for that.”
Lasureth emitted a loud snore, sending the frightened aptelion scurrying into the bushes.
Rossana sprang up to retrieve the little creature. “I quite like being alive, and am not in any hurry to end it.”
“How will I make it to the settlement?”
“Walk that way.” Rossana jabbed her finger west. “You’re bound to run into it eventually.”
“I have my daughter with me. We need some type of protection.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bring that infant with you, dear. She’ll only slow you down.”
“I have to.” Mosa held Loo closer to her chest. “There is no one else I can leave her with.”
“What about the father?”
“Dead.” Mosa tried appealing to Rossana’s sympathetic nature. “He fell victim to the volcanic eruption not long ago.”
Her lie, seeing as Loo’s father had been out of the picture long before the eruption, hit its mark. “Come. I may be able to provide you with a guardian for your quest.”
Rossana led Mosa to the goblin campsite in the trees. Several assorted creatures lay sleeping around the fire. The Ravenea tribe always brought the most fantastic beasts, to trade with the neighboring villages on their nomadic trek through the valley. She pointed to a palm tree. There, tethered securely under the draping branches, was the same alphyn that mauled the troll boy just the day before. Mosa recognized the distinct scar on the alphyn vixen’s muzzle.
The vixen recognized Mosa too as she growled in her direction. The beasts yellow eyes centered on Loo cradled in her mother’s arms.
“We caught this one yesterday,” said Rossana, as she cautiously approached the proud beast. “Few will care if she happens to ‘accidentally’ break free.’ Alphyns have an incredible sense of smell. One whiff of something from the human village of Eriku will be enough for her to guide you. I would just keep her at a distance. She’s a wild one.”
The alphyn vixen was hardly the guardian Mosa was expecting, but she didn’t have the opportunity to be selective about the matter. “I’ll take her.”
Mosa wasn’t sure she would ever return, as she began her westward journey through the charred remains of the land, land that once grew the most prized vegetation. Carrying baby Loo had already begun to take a toll on her back — the constant throbbing increased its sting with every step — but Mosa was glad to have the pain, because it reminded her that Loo was still there, and why she had undertaken this dangerous mission.
Rossana gave her a broken human-made arrow to give to Nash, so she could follow the scent to Eriku. Nash pulled at the rope connecting her alphyn neck to Mosa’s wrist. The animal tried rebounding on her once or twice, but Mosa quickly made herself look big and menacing, to frighten her canine companion back in line. It worked well, and the animal now saw her more as a predator than prey, even though there was nothing she could do to prevent Nash from tearing her apart with razor-sharp talons.
It took the intrepid explorers several long, arduous days to make it over the massive mountain range. The people had never thought of a name for the towering mountains, but as Nash led Mosa over its peaks, she decided to call them the Loosie Mountains, after her nickname for Loo. Her daughter’s name would always be attached to the mountains that kept Fabella’s most feared monsters at bay.
When they finally made it down the Loosie Mountains’ rocky slopes, and into the dense jungle, Mosa couldn’t help feeling a wonderful sense of empowerment. She never knew Fabella past the farmland. It had never entered her mind that there could possibly be rolling hills filled with flowers, blooming every color of the rainbow, and rivers so clear she could see her reflection. Mosa had absolutely no idea where she was going and loved every moment.
She tried heading southwest, down toward where the cluster of rocks made a mountain that looked like a hand, but Nash led her northwest instead, to where the Rikta River met the Domitan River. Mosa tugged on the rope to call Nash south.
Nash refused to move. The alphyn sniffed at the flowers and tossed her flowing orange head north.
Mosa tugged at the rope again. Nash bared her teeth with a low growl.
Faced with the frightening aspect of being mauled to death, Mosa decided to continue her expedition to the northwest. It went on like that for the rest of the day. Nash pulled Mosa throughout the valley, continually sniffing at every blade of grass and flower petal drifting in the air. It didn’t take long for Mosa to recognize that Nash had picked up a scent and was following it across the valley. She had no idea what this scent was, or where Nash was pulling her; hopefully, it would be toward Eriku.
Just because Mosa’s status relegated her to a life of gathering fruit didn’t mean she couldn’t hunt. Mastering the skill of trapping any animal was necessary for one’s continued survival. Mosa preferred the well-laid trap to an outright attack because she had Loo with her. Nash had to be tied to a tree, out of fear she would bolt if allowed the tiniest bit of slack. Tracks led her to a mouse-deer’s burrow. A nice, strong vine, acting as the perfect snare and strategically positioned over the opening, caught the little varmints as they poked their stubby little antler heads out.
Thorny bushes had to be positioned around the campsite, to keep out nasty jungle creatures. Mosa drove her crude stone side-scraper into the mouse-deer’s fur pelt. She looked up at Nash, whose head lay depressingly on the ground. The alphyn companion may have had a particularly vicious reputation, but she led Mosa this far, and deserved some food to keep her strength. Mosa stripped off a sizable piece of meat. It was more than she intended to give, but she tossed it to Nash anyway.
Nash recoiled at this unexpected display of gratitude. She eyed Mosa, suspicious this was some type of cruel trick. Mosa turned away to nurse Loo. Nash was welcome to dine on the meat whenever she wanted.
The mouse-deer meat was still there after she finished nursing Loo.
It was still untouched by the time Mosa got a fire started.
3rd Reversal: Mosa is scared of Nash.
4th Reversal: Nash saves Mosa
It still remained when she woke in the middle of the night to hear screaming. She thought it had come from baby Loo, but she was still fast asleep. Then it became apparent that the screams were coming from around her campsite. It was too dark to see who was making the noise — fleeting glimpses of disproportionately large heads atop small hairy bodies, in the waning orange light of the fire and passing lights overhead led her to believe they must be some type of mammal, most likely a pack of veli. She picked up the side-scraper and broken arrow — the only weapons she carried with her — and listened to the sounds of the advancing beasts, trying to judge which direction they were coming from.
Veli dropped from the trees. One landed right on top of Mosa. Its dark fingers scraped against her face as she grabbed it by the hindquarters and hurled the accursed creature back into the dark forest.
Mosa whirled around, to see two velis looming over Loo. “Get away from her!”
Several more veli jumped atop Mosa, tackling her to the forest floor. The side-scraper went flying. Mosa tried fighting the vile creatures off, but it was no use. For every one she kicked away, another two took its place. She could hear Loo’s wails of terror mixed in with the velis’ screeches. Then another sound rang out in the night.
Nash’s deep roar silenced the velis. She broke free of her rope and bounded into the middle of the fight, ferociously swiping away at anything that moved. The velis immediately dropped Loo and scampered away into the night, with Nash in hot pursuit.
Mosa raced to pick up her screaming daughter, holding Loo as close to her breast as possible. She didn’t sleep at all for the rest of the night. Early in the morning, when the first signs of daybreak appeared, Nash came back.
5th Reversal: Mosa saves Nash
The alphyn gave no sign she noticed Mosa, as she slowly plodded to the mouse-deer meat and gobbled it up. She moved away from the campsite, heading southwest. Mosa followed her at a safe distance. Nash kept a steady pace throughout the day, leading Mosa down a riverbank, which she theorized must be a tributary of the Sharakan River. She decided to name this one “Little Sharakan.”
By midday, they ascended a steep cliff overlooking Little Sharakan’s most violent rapids. Here the water moved so quickly downstream that little asrai — water fairies — had difficulty battling against the current, as it relentlessly pummeled their little bodies without mercy.
Nash ventured closer to the cliff’s edge than Mosa thought safe. Suddenly, the ground beneath the alphyn’s feet gave way. Nash yelped as she lost her footing.
Mosa dove to catch Nash by the tail. Her fingers slipped against the animal’s glossy orange coat. She readjusted her grip to Nash’s right hind leg, where a tighter grip could be maintained. It took some time, but Mosa mustered the strength to pull Nash to safety.
6th Reversal: the two become friends.
They looked at each other in the eyes for what felt like an eternity.
Nash tenderly licked at the veli scratches on Mosa’s cheek, cleaning them with her rough tongue. Mosa picked out burrs that had gotten trapped in Nash’s orange coat, and one particularly nasty bug that appeared to be sucking her blood.
Nash continued up the cliff, taking great care to walk a little further from the edge, now that she knew how dangerous it could be.
Mosa shifted Loo to rest on her chest, in order to give her back a little break. She caught sight of a shattered clay pot hidden in the brush. Closer examination proved that it was goblin-made. The truth suddenly dawned on her — Nash was leading her along the Ravenea tribe’s path, the same path leading to Eriku.
An impatient bark ripped Mosa’s eyes away from the pot.
Nash stopped up ahead. She tossed her head up the cliff as if to say “Are you coming or not?”
Mosa strode up to Nash. The alphyn would not move until she drew even. They continued on, not as master and pet, but as companions.
Mosa climbed the hill overlooking Eriku, to see a sprawling colony hugging the shores of a lake. Smoke billowed out of their clay homes, blackened animal meat hung over their fires, and coconut husks leaked their milk into thirsty mouths. Assorted stone tools tore into the rich soil, and children played along the rolling hills. These humans had chosen well — close to freshwater, lots of wheat, an excellent source of vegetation not far away. The area, nice and open, allowed them to see predators coming for miles. She wished her tribal forefathers had chosen this territory instead.
Humans were just as strong as elves. They were only treated as a lower class of animals because they lacked the elves’ superior hearing and agility. This particular settlement had made a remarkably strong colony for themselves, so close to the Gulf of Hagen.
All beings on Fabella were familiar with the horror stories coming out of Hagen. Entire colonies of perfectly strong animals forced to bow down to the feet of the centaurs, who ruled the region with an iron fist. The adaros who traded with them weren’t much better. Mosa could recall legends of several attempts by her tribe to engage in a mutual partnership with the amphibious adaros of the ocean shore, attempts that had been turned down. Hagen’s hooved leaders clearly didn’t want the adaros to trade with anyone else. Fortunately, the goblins understood.
Nash’s whole body tensed up at the sight of the human settlement. Mosa nodded to her canine companion. “Yep, I’m scared too.”
Frightened or not, Mosa had a job to do. Making sure baby Loo was securely situated on her back, she ventured into the camp. It was hard not to notice the number of eyes watching her every move. If this settlement was anything like her tribe’s, the chieftain’s quarters would be toward the center. She would have to march there to find the leader.
She caught sight of a wheelbarrow, laden with succulent fruits and vegetables from the nearby jungle. The goblins’ feeble imitation, with their wheel attached to a basket, paled in comparison to the humans’ superior hollowed-out tree trunk fixed upon an elegantly crafted wooden wheel. Mosa’s eyes followed the spinning wheel, as its human master piloted it through the camp. It was more than just a technological leap forward, it was a masterpiece.
“Ahem.”
Mosa snapped out of her trance just in time to realize that she was about to touch the wheel. She looked up, to see a boy with a floral crown cocked to one side towering over her with an ugly, black-haired girl on his arm.
“Who are you?” inquired the boy.
Nash bared her teeth.
Men seized their weapons, and women jumped back with ear-piercing screeches.
“Stop!” Mosa held up her hand to the spear tips and bamboo arrows surrounding her. “I trust this animal with my child’s life. She poses no threat to any of you. Put down your weapons.”
The boy gave a curt nod with his sharp chin, and his brothers lowered their spears.
Nash still maintained her defensive stance, her tail rigid and her lips curled in a low snarl.
The boy’s fingers smoothed the peach fuzz on his upper lip. “Come into my tent.”
Mosa didn’t make a move. “I’m looking for your chief.”
“I am he. My tent. Now,” ordered the boy chieftain. “Bring the alphyn.”
Mosa expected someone a bit older. The young Erikun chieftain looked like he was about thirteen years old, still too young to even grow a beard. Regardless, he carried himself with a powerful sense of maturity beyond his years.
“I am Chief Shuss of Eriku.” His voice cracked in the middle of the introduction. Mosa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “What has brought you here?”
“My tribe has lost much of our farmland to Mount Kabam’s eruption in the south. I came to seek the secret to your wheel.”
His eyes narrowed. “How could our wheel help you?”
“Our remaining food is too far away from camp. The distance is killing us.” Mosa’s back ached at the mere thought of lifting a tree trunk every couple of feet. The death of most of the males in her tribe, from malnourishment, had severely increased the amount of work for the remaining females. “If we just had your wheels, we could transport more food, quicker and easier.”
“The wheel is our most cherished asset.” Shuss paced around his tent. “I’m sure you’re aware that my people are viewed as weak.”
“I am. My tribe is treated poorly by other people as well,” said Mosa, desperately hoping to strike up a deal based on common ground.
“Ah, so you can relate. My wheel is the only thing we have to prove we’re not animals.” Shuss broke open a coconut husk and offered half to Mosa, but she politely declined. “We have to protect it.”
Mosa suddenly became very nervous.
Shuss went on as he dined on the cocoanut. “The only reason you’re not dead is that you have that beast.”
Nash sat vigilantly next to Mosa, confident, and proud.
“Alphyns are a vicious canine race. Once domesticated, they could be quite beneficial to our hunters.” Shuss got down to business. “So here’s the deal. Show me how to train alphyns, and you can have my wheel.”
“Train them?” Mosa thought of Nash as an equal, not a trained pet. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“That’s my offer. Take it, or we’ll cook that baby over the fire,” threatened Shuss.
Mosa had no choice but to agree.
7th Reversal: Mosa tries to train the cubs.
Wild alphyns apparently caused the human settlement much distress, by killing their young and absconding with meat in the night. The Ravenea tribe had told Shuss the story of how a young veli trained a cynogriffin and flown over the land and sea. Since then, the young chief had been hell-bent on training Fabella’s canines for his tribe’s use, with little success.
Cynogriffins flew too fast to be caught.
Barong were too fierce.
Sea wolves were confined to the water.
All things considered, domesticating the alphyn was the best option. They were skilled hunters, swift and courageous, and would help the humans achieve a foothold in the valley. Humans had been stuck with the untamed wild animals of Fabella for much too long, and Shuss was dead-set on ending that foul tradition. Mosa got the uneasy feeling that she was about to help a very powerful species, worse than Hagen’s centaurs, become supreme rulers of the valley, but she had no choice in the matter.
Chief Shuss was an odd boy to work for. Antlions seemed to be quite at home crawling around his acne-scarred face, he bragged about his “beard” that was really just a thin layer of peach fuzz, and the crown of bright yellow flower petals on his head drooped over his face. There was something vaguely menacing behind the smile he occasionally flashed. To top it off, every time Mosa turned her back, another anonymous girl was wrapping her arms around his body. He didn’t seem to show the slightest bit of affection with any of them. In fact, Mosa caught him several times staring longingly at the other boys in the tribe.
Shuss dumped three captured alphyn pups in front of Mosa. “Begin.”
Mosa had no clue how to train the trio of alphyns. Despite appearances, Nash was not domesticated; she had simply learned to care for Mosa enough to not bite her head off.
These new alphyn pups had been badly abused. Nash rushed forward to lick the wounds of her brethren. Mosa’s heart ached for the poor creatures. Their only mistake had been picking the wrong tribe to steal food from. Everybody was hungry. No one, man nor beast, should be sentenced to a lifetime of servitude for trying to survive.
“I need food,” said Mosa.
Shuss folded his arms. “After you domesticate them.”
“You want my help? Then get me something with meat,” Mosa demanded.
For someone who claimed not to have enough food to share, Shuss had his daily girlfriend fetch a cooked veo carcass amazingly fast.
Mosa stripped off five sections of meat from the armored veo’s soft underbelly. Three went to the alphyns. One went to Nash. And the last, smallest of all, was saved for baby Loo.
The three young alphyns quickly gobbled up their veo meat. Nash nudged her piece over to them, as a mother would.
“What was the point of that?” demanded Shuss.
“Earning their trust.” Mosa hopped away on her foot.
Shuss rushed to intercept her. “Where are you going?”
“To sit by the fire. It’s getting cold.”
Shuss planted his feet, refusing to let her pass. “Not so fast. We had a deal.”
“Which I am trying to do, but it’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time.”
“How much?” asked Shuss
Mosa pulled a date out of thin air. “A couple of days.”
“You’d better not be trying to buy time.”
“Why would I do that? I’m trying to get back to my tribe before they all starve,” snapped Mosa. “Nothing is more important than saving everyone I love.”
8th Reversal: Nash treats the cubs like her own
Nash treated the abused alphyns like her own pups. Most days were spent licking their slow-healing wounds, and helping them gain the strength to run again. Mosa did what she could to nurse them back to health, but the bulk of that duty was Nash’s.
9th Reversal: Mosa’s baby is sick
10th Reversal: Mosa begs for food.
Act II Climax: Shuss cuts off Mosa’s food supply
Shuss grudgingly allowed her to sit by Eriku’s bonfire, but he forbade any food to touch her lips. She had been given her share, and had decided not to take it. Mosa’s stomach could grumble as fiercely as it wanted. She would do it again in a heartbeat.
It took most of the night for her to work up the courage to ask the question she’d wanted to ask since entering the settlement. “How did your people invent the wheel?”
“My people had nothing to do with it. I’m the one who came up with the idea.”
Somehow Mosa got the feeling that Shuss was taking credit for something he hadn’t actually done, but she wasn’t about to voice her disagreement with him any time soon.
Shuss stoked the roaring fire. “We used to transport large quantities of our food on sleds, rolling over tree trunks.”
“We do the same thing.” Mosa briefly reflected on her tribe’s attempts at picking up log after log, moving them over the land, to get a sled laden with food back to camp.
“Well, I noticed the sled was leaving marks in the wood.” Shuss dug his nail into two sides of a stick to illustrate his point. “Two circular patterns were left on the sides of the tree, bordering the outside of the sled. I hacked away one piece and made a wheel.”
“It was that simple?”
Shuss tossed the stick into the fire. “That simple.”
It took more than a couple of days for the alphyn pups to come around. Shuss refused to take any more food out of his people’s mouths, so Mosa had to go out every morning with Nash to hunt for the game. Hunting with Nash by her side was remarkably easier than hunting by herself. She could see why Shuss wanted to domesticate alphyns. What would have taken her a full day of hunting lasted only until the wee hours of the morning. Nash’s sensitive nose picked up the scent of wild varmints scurrying across the ground, and killed enough to feed herself, Mosa, Loo, and the alphyn pups. Only enough game to feed those she cared about, never more. The proud animal may have had a savage reputation, but she had the good sense not to exhaust herself by hunting for the humans of the Caye Valley.
Slowly but surely, the young alphyns were beginning to exhibit domestic characteristics. They would now sit on command, and fetch discarded sticks. Mosa thought the amount of progress was outstanding. Shuss could not be less impressed.
“They can fetch and sit? How can that be the only progress you’ve made?” demanded Shuss. “When are they going to be trained?”
“In a couple of days.”
“You said that weeks ago,” spat Shuss.
“All I’m doing is treating them like equals. You can take it from here. I need my wheel,” shouted Mosa.
“That wasn’t our deal,” sneered Shuss.
“I have to get back to my tribe,” wailed Mosa
“So leave. But you won’t set foot outside this camp with a wheel. I promise you that.” Shuss towered over Mosa. “If I find out your tribe is using my wheels, my people will roast every single one of your brethren over the fire, starting with your daughter. Understand?”
Mosa’s blood boiled with the deepest loathing possible. “Yes.”
Shuss’ evil eyes narrowed. “Good.”
The next morning, Mosa awoke to find that Nash wasn’t sleeping by her side as usual. Baby Loo thumped on her back, as she hopped around the camp, looking for any sign of Nash. Only strands of her red hair, and paw prints in the rich soil, were left behind. The proud alphyn was gone.
Every part of her body begged Mosa to stay put, except for her heart. She hopped away as fast as possible, in the direction of the beast’s terrifying howl. Her mind was only on Nash. Not even the squirming baby on her back punctured the bubble in her mind consumed with worry over Nash’s well-being.
The bushes ahead of her rustled violently. Mosa froze.
A black beak emerged from the thicket of overgrown leaves. Mosa stumbled back in terror as she caught sight of the oblong head layered with feathers. Small eyes blinked in her direction as a large scaly foot landed in the fresh mud. The most feared monster in all the jungle stood right before her. This was a cockatrice.
Rising at a full height of about twelve feet, cockatrices were swift agile flightless bird/dragon hybrids. They weren’t the largest predators of the jungle. With their unmatched speed, intellect, and power, there was no reason for them to add size to that list. They roamed in packs of about three or five with one alpha male.
The cockatrice in front of Mosa was a female. She didn’t know much about cockatrice behavior out in the wild, but she knew the alpha male always dined first. The rogue female herded the small troll through a thicket, where the rest of her pack waited for her. Chief Shuss cowered against a tree surrounded by other female cockatrices all waiting for the alpha. Mosa slipped and fell on the wet grass as she raced to Shuss’s side shielding a wailing Loo from the monstrous avian reptiles surrounding them.
Nash was still no where to be seen.
The thud of a thick scaly foot hitting the hard unforgiving ground announced the arrival of the alpha. The male cockatrice rose out of thick foliage. He towered above the females in this pack. His beak clicked with anticipation of ripping into the prey before him.
Chief Shuss always put up an intimidating front, but Mosa had never seen him so scared as the young teen trembled with fright in the face of this intimidating creature.
The alpha male advanced on Mosa and Shuss. He reared back preparing to strike.
A proud roar suddenly rang out. Mosa only saw a blur of orange fly through the air. One of the female cocktrices shrieked as razor sharp talons dug into their neck.
The commotion distracted the alpha male, calling his attention to the canine rushing through the tall grass. Nash bounded in front of Mosa. She caught so much air when she pushed off the ground it was almost like she could fly.
The female cocatrices in the pack tried to charge toward Nash, but the alpha male clicked at them to get back. The male’s small unblinking eyes centered on Nash. He wanted her for himself.
Nash growled at the alpha male, ready to pounce any second. She barked madly at him to retreat. It didn’t do any good.
The alpha’s tail whipped behind him as he surveyed Nash for a moment. When his tail stiffened and his rigid body dipped low, Mosa knew he was about to attack.
Nash struck first. She leapt toward the alpha male with her talons outstretched.
The two beasts collided in frenzied mess of rage. Both of them struck so fast Mosa couldn’t tell who did what. Nash kept trying to bite the alpha male cockatrice in the neck, but he pushed her away. The sheer size of the cockatrice gave it an immediate advantage, but Nash was undaunted. She kept striking, refusing to give up even for an instant.
Nash caught a claw to the side of her cheek, just grazing against the side of her eye.
Crimson blood flew in the air, but Mosa couldn’t tell who it belonged to.
The alpha male tried several times to grab Nash around the back with his short stubby forearms, but the canine’s glossy orange coat prevented it from finding a hold.
Chief Shuss tugged on Mosa’s arm, attempting to lead her away from the ongoing fight, but Mosa stayed put. She couldn’t leave Nash. Not in this desperate hour. Not ever.
The alpha male cockatrice finally grabbed hold of Nash. He threw her with all his might against a tree.
Nash hit the rough bark so hard she left a mark. She crumpled to the hard ground. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. She tried to stand but the pain caused by the severe hit was too much and she fell back down to the ground.
The alpha male stalked toward Nash, ready to finish the job.
Mosa found a rock nearby her feet. She picked it up and hurled it at the alpha male.
The rock arched perfectly through the air striking the alpha male cockatrice in the back of his oblong head. The shrewd beast spun around to track where the rock had come from.
Nash only had a split second to act and took it.
While the alpha male was distracted by Mosa, Nash sprang up to bit the cockatrice in the jugular. Blood erupted out of the cockatrice’s neck like a volcano. The alpha male stumbled around for a moment in a confused daze before flopping down dead. It was over.
The female cockatrice pack retreated into the jungle.
Mosa rushed forward to scoop up a weak Nash and carry her back to the Eriku settlement.
Chief Shuss didn’t say a word to her as they trekked back to the encampment. The alphyn pups Mosa had been training rushed forward out of the thick foliage to meet the proud animal they recognized as their mother. Mosa set Nash down. Even in her weakened state, Nash tenderly nuzzled her head against the pups. It was okay. They were all going to be fine.
Mosa looked up to see Chief Shuss standing frozen in front of a wheel on the edge of camp.
He locked eyes with Mosa. A single tear fell down his cheek. He nodded toward the wheel and continued into camp.
No words were exchanged between them. They were unnecessary. Mosa had Chief Shuss’s permission to return home to Saci in the Great Silver Mountains with the wheel. Her servitude was done and she accomplished what she set out to do. Now it was time to return home.
Nash slowly traveled by Mosa’s side. The pups led their little pack, chasing fairies through the meadow.
Before the volcano, Mosa was committed to leading life by herself with only her and Loo. That thought seemed so absurd now. Without the eruption of the volcano she never would have undertaken this journey and formed a bond with Nash. A union between companions far more important to history than she realized.