The TrailFolk of Xunar-kun, Book Two in the Tellings of Xunar-kun Series: The Alysa Books Series, #2

What readers are saying

This is a wonderful sci-fi story. I liked the touches of how this could be on our planet, but probably not! The characters are interesting and develop nicely. Good conflict that makes you want to turn the page.

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This is a very strong book, with a lot to recommend it. The story world is well-developed and fully realized. The characters are believable and fully dimensional. The characters' manner of speaking is consistent with the story world and one another, and the author does a terrific job of conveying a mental image of the people, environments and actions in the book. The plotting is tight and involving right from the start, and while there are valuable life lessons to be learned here, the book relates them with finesse and subtlety.

Writer’s Digest Books

THE TRAILFOLK OF XUNAR-KUN

Book Two in the Tellings of Xunar-kun Series

We are part of something greater than ourselves.

By

Tina Field Howe

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Book, Cover and Illustrations Copyright 2008 Tina Field Howe

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is available in print at most online retailers.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

The Glossary in the back contains references to the characters, terminology, creatures, geography, and pronunciations.

Maps of Xunar-kun

Chapter 1: PROLOGUE - THE TELLING

Wind and bursts of thunder rattled the Great Hall’s closed window shutters. Rain pelted the roof and splashed into the stone-filled gutters running along the foundation. Inside, the only other sounds were the crackle of fire in the hearth and the quiet gossip of women as they spun yarn and wove baskets at the other end of the large hall.

Thirty or so wide-eyed younglings sat on thick woven rugs. Their small faces reflected hearth light and the glow of many hanging lanterns. They stared up at young Teller Betram who prepared to tell a story. Entranced by the presence of the Teller, barely an adult himself, the younglings’ breathing came short, excited, as they fidgeted with the ends of their long braids.

The telling the younglings were about to hear was new to some; but even those who had already heard it many times sat quietly in anticipation. For in hearing, it was almost as if they were living it themselves—although not quite! More than three thousand cycles had passed since the Cat’clysm, and even the part about Alysa happened before many of them were birthed.

Teller Betram, sitting on a bench, rubbed his short beard and leaned his stocky body toward them. His long braid draped over his shoulder. Assuming Teller pose, he cleared his throat. Every young eye fell upon him. Finally, he spoke. Two groups of people survived the Cat’clysm of Xunar-kun. He pointed at the younglings. We Field Folk, the builders of the homesteads and growers of crops and herds, and... he pointed south, the Trailmen, our hunter-warrior friends who migrate between our mountains and their Lowlands.

The younglings softly murmured. Betram paused until they quieted, which was not long, as they yearned to hear the telling.

But the Field Folk and Trailmen weren’t always friends. Not so long ago, we had very little to do with each other. We came together only twice each cycle for Trade and spoke only with handsigns. He made a few gestures with his broad hands. The younglings watched them intently. Ah, yes! We believed we spoke different tongues and were born of different tribes that were never our kin.

How can that be? Never kin? the young voices said in awe.

Betram stood and they quieted. The Teller paced slowly before them. Alysa of the Field Folk was birthed right here at High Point Homestead, just twenty-three cycles ago; long after the reason for the Cat’clysm was forgotten; and long after the Secrets of our founder—Father Gord’n—had been hidden away.

The younglings softly repeated, Alysa…Father Gord’n...

A peaceful, sheltered life was adopted when Father Gord’n led us away from the Cat’clysm, into the mountains where we built the homesteads. Our way of life served us well for three thousand cycles; but all was not as perfect as it seemed.

Betram returned to his seat and eased his Teller posture. The next part of the telling...this part is the most difficult to tell, for it is the newest. All of us Tellers are working to make it easier to under-stand; so you must know that if what I’m about to tell doesn’t make sense...know that one sun, it will. So!

He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward, resuming Teller pose. Not long ago, there was a very, very wise Teller. Her name was Kendira. You’ve heard of Teller Kendira by now. Every young head nodded. The women working at the other end of the room hushed, shifting their attention to Betram.

Now, Alysa very much respected Teller Kendira. It happened that Teller Kendira awakened some—I’ll call them ‘challenges’—in Alysa. Kendira caused Alysa, who was not quite an adult, to question our clan’s traditions. Alysa called them ‘unbending’ traditions, and I must agree that some of them were.

Betram paused to be certain the younglings were still engaged. After the final farewell of her father—Abso—Alysa began to comprehend some of the things he’d taught her. She later said he had...’inspired’ her. Because of Abso, she began to think of herself very differently. Have any of you heard the word ‘individual’?

Many of the young ones nodded. Betram smiled. Yes, this is a word that more and more of us are beginning to grasp. The idea of being an individual—someone who thinks for him or herself—does have merit! So Alysa began to spurn some of the Folk traditions, in particular those that discouraged an individual’s desires. Because of this, she endured many struggles and also bore much pain. The confusion this new thinking brought her caused her to end her lifelong betrothal to Orryn, then an Apprentice Teller. Yes, this did happen. A Folk woman broke her betrothal!

Betram’s voice caught. As he put his mug to his lips, the young voices began to buzz. He drank, stood, paced again. The young-lings fell silent. Probably the best thing that happened to Alysa during this time was that she became a Trader—a duty never before given to a female. One sun after Trade, Alysa came face to face with Szaren, a fearless young Trailman. She kept the discovery secret from her clan... Betram looked over the faces aglow with anticipation and spoke slowly: Her discovery—that Folk and Trailmen spoke the same tongue.

The younglings tittered and clapped, thinking it funny that at one time the two clans could not—rather, did not know that they could speak to one another!

Later, continued Betram, when Alysa became stranded and injured in a huge snowstorm, Szaren rescued her! He sheltered her for two suns and then took her to the Trailmen’s camp. Healer Obala and an unknown healer cared for Alysa. They brought her back from the edge of her final farewell!

The younglings gasped at the thought.

Betram’s keen eyes peered into theirs, and they quieted. Just imagine, younglings...imagine being the very first to meet the Trail-men! Imagine being the very first to visit their camp! Imagine not knowing for sure...if the Trailmen would let you live! The younglings wore expressions of fear and awe.

Betram chuckled. Imagine the Folk thinking this way about the Trailmen for three thousand cycles! What a waste, eh? The young-lings nodded and snickered.

The Teller paced into the middle of his pupils, his demeanor brightening. They twisted their small bodies to watch him. Chief Elder Islean—a kind and wise leader of the Trailmen—befriended Alysa and invited her to dwell briefly among them. Alysa learned that the Trailmen’s traditions, although very different, were in some ways more favorable than ours. He grinned. Alysa also learned that Szaren was betrothed to warrior woman Haraht, who was none too accepting of Alysa!

The younglings had only seen Haraht once or twice. They nodded and said, Haraht… in faint recollection.

Alysa discovered the Trailmen to be likable, despite what Folk tradition taught. She returned home safely. All but Loralle, her mother, and little sister Ellee feared Alysa lost to the storm. Alysa’s return was celebrated—but only briefly! For you see, Alysa brought back some disturbing news. Betram paced back to his seat and picked up his mug again. The younglings squirmed as he took a long swallow.

The news Alysa brought, he continued, was that the two tribes must share kinship because they spoke the same tongue! She persuaded Teller Orryn to tell about Father Gord’n’s secrets, which revealed the true history of the clan and our kinship with the Trailmen! Now, this knowledge confused the people and threatened the Laws. This learning was rejected by the Elders. Alysa was shunned by many.

Betram stood tall and looked down on them. His expression grew dark. For many, many cycles, the Folk thought they had no enemies, no reason to fear—but they were wrong! A mean, beastly foe came to peaceful Winding Mountains.

Some of the younglings whispered, M’raudas!

Yes, M’raudas! Savage beasts that stole many slumbering newborns from the hedgerows of the very fields where their parents toiled! One of the stolen younglings, called Sureena, belonged to...

Seda! said an older girl.

That’s correct, Paqa! Sureena is Seda’s daughter, and Seda is Alysa’s closest friend. Alysa was very saddened by the theft of Sureena. Betram sat. The Folk tradition of peacefulness meant that we possessed no weapons. But the Trailmen were hunters. They also had fighting skills. Alysa reasoned that the Trailmen could help get the younglings back. She urged the Folk to seek them out. But because our clan wished to remain separate from the Trailmen…the Elders denied Alysa’s imploring.

He paused to consider his next words. Now I never encourage anyone to disobey the Elders...but in this instance, Alysa couldn’t bear the thought of younglings in peril. I agree that her action was correct when she struck out on her own to seek the Trailmen’s help!

He looked at some of the older younglings. Who knows what comes next? Hmm? A dangerous...

Journey! Paqa called.

Correct again, Paqa! A dangerous journey took Alysa through mountain passes, lakelands, and endless hills. Her food was eaten by wild animals! He gestured and looked up. She had no map other than the stars and only vague memories of her father’s teachings to guide her. She was not certain that she was even on the correct trail. But by chance—or was it due to guidance from the Trailmen’s unseen Forever One?—she did find the Lowlands. And she stumbled, at the end of her strength, into the Trailmen’s camp!

Trailmen’s camp... some of the younglings imagined aloud.

Since the Trailmen had just migrated south for wintertide, it wasn’t easy to convince them to lend aid in defeating the M’raudas. But with Chief Elder Islean’s help, and urging by Szaren, the Trailmen finally agreed to make the journey back to our mountains.

One of the younger boys slid to the front and yanked on Betram’s trouser leg. Betram looked down at him. Tilir? Why the impatience?

Tilir said, The City! I want to hear about the City...

Betram smiled. Yes, Tilir. That part’s coming. Now... He waved Tilir away, and the boy slid back to his spot. Alysa and Szaren became friends. While the tribe finished readying for the journey back to Winding Mountains, Szaren and Jesh—Jesh is Szaren’s closest friend—took Alysa on a journey to long-lost City Infinity.

The Teller glanced at Tilir, now all smiles. Along the way, Alysa learned that following the snowstorm, Szaren’s were the other healing hands that helped bring her back to life! That was a very big surprise indeed! Now as the three thought about the broken City Infinity that lay before them, destroyed in the Cat’clysm, Alysa told the men about the history their people shared. Yes, Alysa did a telling for Szaren and Jesh!

Betram jumped to his feet, startling the closest listeners. His braid swung around to his back. The Folk were not happy to see the Trailmen when they arrived in the mountains, yet they finally accepted that the only way they could save their younglings was to learn fighting skills. The Trailmen not only taught us how to use weapons… Betram moved as if to thrust a spear as he had in battle. They fought alongside us. Many were wounded, both Folk and Trailmen; Haraht’s closest friend, brave Kailee, fell at the Battle of M’rauda Ridge.

Kailee… the younglings repeated.

The Teller dropped his fighting pose. But a good thing came from their joining in battle. As the beasts were dispatched and the Folk younglings rescued, this began to bind Folk and Trailmen in friendship. And there was an unexpected twist, something that no one could’ve imagined: the M’raudas had captured many more younglings than the Field Folk had lost!

The Orphans! one of the boys called.

Yes! And where did these new younglings come from? The M’raudas must’ve stolen them from some unknown people, from out-side the mountains!

Betram looked beyond the younglings and saw that many of the women had moved closer. They were drawn by both the story and his skill. He dared not smile at them, as he did not want to lighten the mood. He returned his gaze to the young ones. "As if the battle weren’t bitter enough, there was another sad matter: Szaren was among the badly wounded! For several suns, he lay close to his final farewell in the healing barn at Falling Stream.

"Healer Obala allowed Alysa to tend him. Haraht, still mourning the loss of her friend, challenged Alysa’s care of Szaren. But Alysa prevailed, as Szaren had, indeed, already ended his betrothal to Haraht.

When Szaren woke from the sleep of the wounded, he and Alysa sealed their betrothal. And at the following Moonsfest...they were joined! That was four cycles ago. Alysa, Szaren and their friends are now away on another journey as they seek the true Parents of the...

Orphans! The younglings clapped, glad for the happy ending; well, there would be a truly happy ending once the Parents were found.

Betram glanced at the women. They seemed to enjoy the telling of Alysa and Szaren’s joining the best of all. They smiled wistfully and returned to their work. He clapped to end the telling and said, Younglings…questions?

As the thunder boomed outside, they surrounded Teller Betram in a chaotic swarm, full of questions—as always—about their history.

Chapter 2: THE ROAMING STAR

A stark tangle of mangled satellites and debris hovered high above the brown plains, brackish seas and scattered deep-green mountains of planet Xunar-kun. The dulled surfaces of the satellites that faced Tabir-sun harshly reflected its orange rays. Sporadic flaming bursts of energy—emissions long ago programmed into the satellites that circled Xunar-kun—allowed them to maintain altitude above the planet and keep them from plummeting to the surface.

Since the Cat’clysm, the satellites had continued their programmed operation, powered by some form of limitless energy, perhaps gained directly from the rays of Tabir-sun.

It was now A.C. 3027, more than three thousand cycles since the last operational command was received from Xunar-kun. But time did not matter to the satellites; they would continue to execute their instructions until some malfunction or celestial intervention caused them to fall from the sky.

A plume of white light drifted across the space behind the tangle of metal, casting the shapes into skeletal silhouettes. The broad light—a fork-tailed comet—washed through the dark sky.

*****

On the world far below, the setting sun cast an orange glow over the sparse forest. Many suns south of the Field Folk homesteads and far from a view to Winding Mountains, a band of ten Trailmen and Field Folk trekked along the top of a rounded ridge. The ridge bordered a wide, rolling plain stretching to the south. Green and tan grasses waved in the sporadic breeze over the distance. Here and there, outcroppings of rock pushed up through the grass.

In total, there were five Trailmen and two Trailwomen, two young Folk men and one Folk woman. All were dressed in Trailmen’s garb: sleeveless shirts, trousers and tall trail boots.

In the lead were rugged Trailman Rainur and his mate, Elder Marteen. Rainur halted and turned his creased, dark-golden face to Field Folk Alysa, the next traveler in line. Even Alysa had set aside her long skirt in favor of the more appropriate trail clothing. Now twenty-three, Alysa’s face and arms were tanned mellow-gold. She was lean from bearing a heavy packbasket on the long trek through the wilderness.

Alysa came up to the leaders and leaned on her tall, winding walking staff. She turned back to Szaren, her Trailman husband of four cycles. He followed close behind. Now twenty-five cycles old, Szaren was also taut, strong and golden as a result of their journey. Sweat dripped from his short, brown-streaked hair.

Following Szaren was Jesh, his long-time friend. Jesh was taller than Szaren, and lanky. His short, pale hair and mustache also dripped sweat. Using the back of his hand, he wiped his wet face. They halted when they reached their leaders.

Their peltee companions, Drongo and Vonni, walked below in a stream that ran along the ridge. They lapped water with their black tongues. From time to time their heads darted up, their long ears standing tall to listen to distant sounds.

The second half of the band lagged farther behind. Someone in that half, probably a Field Folk, began to hum a tune composed of a dramatic alternation of high and low tones. The tune floated through the air to Alysa’s ears. She scrunched up her face, rolled her brown eyes at her husband and mumbled, That tune. I wish they’d stop!

Amused, Szaren laughed. His pale-blue eyes danced. Alysa of High Point, you are too modest! You are their champion, after all. You achieved some things that had not been done before; it is a much-deserved song.

Alysa shrugged and shook her head. She pushed her long braid—worn by all Field Folk females and males—behind her shoulder.

Rainur turned to the darkening blue-purple sky. Prominent scars running down the painting on the back of his neck were a reminder of his long-ago battle with a greatclaw. He pointed at the ground, and those at the front of the band eased their packbaskets, walking staffs, rolled hides and hunting gear to the ground. Relieved of their burdens, they stretched their tired bodies and drank from water bladders.

Young Folk men Thom and Colb, breathing hard, caught up. Their long braids swayed before them. Their immature beards were damp with perspiration.

The final members of the band arrived—Trailmen Folie, Vyyn, and Nrandia. They also wore short hair, as was the Trailmen’s way. Their moist necks displayed paintings that began at the tops of their ears, trailed down the backs of their necks, and ended somewhere under their clothing.

Peetah, a small white peltee bonded with Folie, searched for rodents among a stand of trees farther behind. She loped along the ridge to join them.

Someone pointed at the northern sky. They all turned and gasped as they witnessed the appearance of the comet just rising above the hills.

Bald-headed Rainur announced, The Roaming Star! It has come as Nrandia foresaw. Very good counting, Nrandia!

Trailwoman Nrandia nodded her young head in acceptance of the praise.

Yes, Marteen added. The deep creases flanking her eyes betrayed a hint of disappointment. Mid-summering is already upon us.

As they paused to watch the long, bright tail of the Roaming Star clear the horizon, Szaren stood behind Alysa and wrapped his arms around her.

She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. It seems like we just started out, not like we left directly after Greening Moonsfest. How could time have gone by so quickly, my husband?

Szaren shook his head. I do not know, Yissa, although these lands have not given us much of a challenge. Perhaps the ease of this journey makes it seem like a shorter span of time.

Alysa retorted, It hasn’t been ‘easy’; it’s tiring! It’s not easy searching for signs of the Parents, weaving back and forth over the land, and not keeping to a truly straight course. It seems like we aren’t making any real distance for all the hiking we do. No, Szaren of Winding Mountains, I wouldn’t call this trek ‘easy’!

Jesh quipped, Easy for a Trailman…

Alysa laughed. Jesh, please don’t start that Trailmen and Folk dispute again this eve!

They laughed, all knowing full well that as long as there were Trailmen and Folk, there would always be a reason to start a debate about something—about anything—just for fun.

Drawing their attention away from the Roaming Star, Rainur growled, The Star will be there all night to gaze upon, for the next two nights. Even with the rising of Donol-kul it will be visible. Here. This is a fine place to make camp.

Young Colb and Thom, who had become adept at hunting hoptails, set out with Folie and the peltees to catch the evening meal. The others spread out along the ridge to set up the shelters.

As Szaren set up his and Alysa’s hide hut, she gathered rocks to build a hearthring, followed by kindling and enough wood to last the night. This was her preferred duty, as over the last few cycles she had learned to make fire very well. With a few strikes from the yellow firestones Jesh had given her, the hearth would be blazing by the time the huts were up.

It was not long before five conical shelters were standing, each just large enough to hold two people. The nightchirpers began to send their song across the ridge. Their singing was comforting. The far-journeying Trailmen had discovered long ago that continuous song meant no predators were about.

Folie, Thom and Colb returned with several hoptails. While the game roasted and wild sweetroot and greens steamed in a clay pot, everyone spread mats and sat around the hearthring to talk about the events of that sun. The exhausted peltees lay beside their master-companions.

Alysa untied the soft laces of her hiking boots and removed them. She rubbed her tired feet and shins.

Nrandia, skinpainter-turned-Mapper, examined a hide map spread upon her lap. Drawn on the map were representations of hills, streams and other natural features. There were also names written on it.

Rainur asked, Do you know where we are, young Nrandia?

Nrandia’s dark-blue eyes squinted at the words printed on the map. It looks like we are in a land called ‘the Tier of…, and with difficulty, …Vol-ko…Volkolik’.

Elder Marteen nodded and said, Ah! as if she had at first understood the name. Then she looked at Rainur and shrugged.

Rainur asked the Mapper, Do you think there is danger of coming unto any sleeping lands?

I am not certain, but we must watch for places where nothing is able to grow, Nrandia replied. It is unfortunate that Orryn has found only a few texts with maps of what the lands were called be-fore Cat’clysm. The best he could do was to make maps with the names of the ancient places. Our additions will help us understand what these lands are like now.

Alysa added, And the ancient places are so difficult to locate. Even artifacts haven’t been easy to find this time out. So much has been buried by the cycles.

Perhaps the closer we get to the City, said Rainur, we will find that everything was lost in the Cat’clysm.

Jesh said, There are not going to be enough objects in the artifacts basket to please Orryn this time. But I can imagine that he is still consumed back at Falling Stream by the study of the relics we found on our last journeys. And by the ancient machines and images discovered in Father Gord’n’s cottage.

It would be good to have my old friend Orryn on this journey, said Alysa, were he able to be in two places at the same time. Then he could see these lands for himself.

But then locating the ancient destroyed cities is not the main purpose of our journeys, is it? Szaren asked.

No, Marteen replied. And it has not been the purpose for the past four cycles.

Alysa said, If we could just find some evidence of the Parents of the Orphans, then we’d know we’re going in the correct direction.

Yes, the Parents, said Szaren. It would be such an amazing thing to reunite the rightful parents with the twenty-four Orphans we saved from the M’raudas. Four cycles is a long time for them to be separated. A very long time, indeed!

All bore wistful expressions as they gazed into the flames.

But it is even more than that, Marteen added. Her dark-golden face brightened. It is learning about other people, where they live, what they are like…

And what they might know, continued Rainur. Marteen and I spend much time speculating about what they could tell us of the time Before Cat’clysm. Perhaps they know what happened.

Alysa said, Orryn and I’ve talked quite a bit about that.

What do you mean ‘quite a bit?’, my mate? teased Szaren, feigning jealousy.

Alysa rolled her eyes. You know what I meant, Szaren. Orryn and I spend time together only as friends. My betrothal to him ended ages ago! Continuing, she dismissed Szaren’s comment. Orryn would like to know more than he’s been able to learn about the history and the machines. Perhaps the Parents would have that knowledge.

There are so many good reasons to find them, Marteen added.

Rubbing one of many small, old scars on his face, Folie mused, I wonder if Jontif’s Seekers have discovered anything worthwhile?

We will find out in two moons when both Seeker bands return to Falling Stream, replied Rainur.

Still studying the map, Nrandia shook her head and flipped her dark bangs out of her eyes. The bright paintings that flowed over her ears and down the back of her neck depicted several detailed mountain scenes. Her paintings—as all paintings borne by Trailmen—were proof that she had traveled many trails in her young life.

Nrandia said, This name that Orryn wrote on the map, ‘the Tier of Volkolik’…now what do you suppose that means? She looked up,