Avarice Unfortunate Sons CH 19

Short chapters so you get two, enjoy...

Onanta-noy.

Aurianne had, over these last few weeks, never been happier. She let her final traces of unresolved vengeance and loss go. Like her neighbors, she too embraced the LOL's. She didn't understand everything from the past, as she had not been exposed to it. But with Onanta-noy's patient guidance, she finally felt that she had a better grasp on how the world was before the war.

She would, at every opportunity, visit Onanta-noy's simple abode. Where she would imbibe the potion of understanding. Then they would talk for hours, where she learned everything she could about the 'Laughing One's past.

"How do you make this stuff?" Aurianne asked one evening as she felt the potion taking effect. She was more than just curious about everything these Laughing Ones did.

"The shamans of the Dark Cleft make it. I do not know that secret. I brought this potion with me many years ago when I moved here to the Red Hills. It has just sat, as there has never until now been any use for it. The only humans we have encountered are those who try to slay us."

"I truly must apologize for my kind," Aurianne uttered in both sadness and sincerity. "It must have been so very difficult for you all after the war?"

"Yes, it was," Onanta-noy said in anguish. "We all shed our names after the calamity. We should not utter them, but just between you and me. I was once called Shirley." The ancient wrinkled crone looked as though she had just revealed a forbidden secret.

Aurianne understood that Onanta-noy was letting her into a great confidence. "Why, though, did you all change your names?"

"We were shunned. Driven away from help, from the cities, and compassion. Sent by force to live here in the wastes, or slaughtered. We needed to begin afresh." Her dark eyes, clouded by the beginnings of cataracts, stared through Aurianne, who sat cross-legged listening intently, as Onanta-noy recounted a far-distant and terrible time. Aurianne wondered just how many of the Laughing Ones had been murdered. Her heart went out to these gritty survivors.

"But your language, you changed that too?"

Onanta-noy nodded slowly. The ornaments woven into her thick dreadlocks clashed musically. "Our leader in the beginning was Krarire-noy. The title noy, means leader. He was smart and wise, and led us well. He was chosen for leadership because of his many waking dream visions. One day after a particularly harrowing dreaming, he commenced to do nothing but write. For many weeks, Krarire-noy was sequestered in his hut, barely taking food or water. Once he had finished recording the contents of his dream, he emerged, gaunt and frail, with a book of language. He told us that this language was important for our rebirth. So under his instruction, we all committed it to memory. In time, we forgot most of the language of the English. Only knowing enough to read our scriptures."

"You mean the memes? The stuff on your temple walls?"

Onanta-noy nodded in affirmation.

"So if you don't kill passers by and eat them... Sorry..." Aurianne felt tripped up in her description and didn't know how to appropriately phrase her question.

"We grow the fungus." Onanta-noy corrected.

"The fungus?"

"Yes, let me show you."

Onanta-noy rose slowly to her feet, and they walked together out into the night. It was a beautiful evening, and in a way, Aurianne could appreciate why the Laughing Ones loved the desert night so much.

The ancient leader led her a way up the street, and they stood before the facade of the old general store. Aurianne could still read the faded and sun-blasted signage. Boldly advertising the over-sugared convenience products of another age. Most of which she had never tasted.

"Come," Onanta-noy beckoned as she opened the rather stout front door.

"Here, let me help you." Aurianne could see that the diminutive matriarch was struggling.

As they walked into the complete darkness, Aurianne's nostrils were overcome with a choking humus. She put her hand over her mouth, and by the dimmest light coming through the open doorway, she could see thousands of what appeared to be tiny button mushrooms. They grew profusely on every surface.

Onanta-noy, realizing that her guest was uncomfortable in the building, promptly guided her out. "The fungus sustains us," the crone gave her a toothless smile.

New Town

Freed of their former misunderstandings, Kario and Jhary had at last formed a solid friendship. Jhary, dare he say it, had begun to believe that there was something more supernatural at work in the world, and he no longer scoffed at the strange potential of his dark-haired friend.

As for Aurianne, she fell head over heels for the fascinating and talented man that she had always admired from a distance. She finally understood the things her mother had told her about deep love.

The laughing ones met with the refugees and suggested that Stephan's people settle the nearby valley. Rather than risk the long and perilous journey to the Bridge. An alliance that could profit everyone. The Farmers could sow the grain they had brought with them next spring. Until then, the laughing ones reassured the refugees that they could, via the plentiful fungus, provide food for all. Onanta-noy also assured them that the river did indeed bear water at various times of the year, and it would be flowing again by next spring in time to water the crops.

The refugees hotly debated what they wished to do. Some were suspicious and repelled by the Laughing ones, desiring to make the journey south, and others were content to stay and rebuild a new settlement. These arguments were further inflamed when Jhary came clean about the politics of the Bridge and its institution of lawful slavery. This turned the tide on the argument for the majority, most deciding that they would rather live free here than risk being taken as slaves in the Bridge.

Renard slowly healed. However, his knee grew tired swiftly. His leg would never be as strong as it was before. He was, though, still a highly skilled hunter from horseback.

*****

Stephan studied his son and his new daughter-in-law, and he realized it would soon be time for a change. Renard had grown into a well-rounded and fair man whom others would follow. He was happy for his son, but his mind often strayed to the memory of his beautiful daughter Frances. He was sometimes sad that he had left her behind, but he had to tell himself that Frances was everywhere. In the beauty of the morning, and the calm of the night. Always by his side.

*****

Even with limited materials, a quaint little town was slowly raised between the rolling hills. Many were relieved to have a place to set down roots again. An alternative to the perilous and uncertain journey south. Stephan sat watching the busy work unfold in the valley. His tired body could no longer work as it had in his youth on construction. There was no shortage of enthusiastic help, though. As he watched the walls being raised by strong cooperative hands. The sight filled him with contentment and happiness. What more could an old man wish to see? This was a wonderful new start.

Two figures hand in hand were coming toward him up the gently sloping valley. He knew who they were, even if his old eyes that probably needed glasses struggled to make them out clearly. It was his son and dear daughter-in-law-to-be.

"The steeple is going up!" Renard reported excitedly.

"What a fine sight that is," Stephan responded. He had been surveying the progress on the church all morning and could hardly believe how swiftly the construction had progressed. He knew that George was particularly keen to get the building finished and host a prayer there.

"Dad, we have something to announce. We wanted you to hear it first." Renard said, squeezing Lissa's hand tight, as he looked at her, and she giggled slightly.

"You, Dad, are going to be a grandpa."

Stephan didn't answer immediately. Instead, a smile slowly lit his face. His clear blue eyes sparkled with delight. "Well..." he finally said, "this is wonderful news, does your Mother know?"

"Not yet. We are just about to tell her."

Stephan willed his old bones to stand as he leaned heavily on his cane for support. He hugged his son and daughter.

"Bless you both", he said. Feeling a deep welling of emotion. They had all been through so much and fought so hard. The future again seemed so golden. He was fortunate to have been blessed with so many chances.

"This news is indeed an incredible gift for this old man." Stephan was choked up with emotion; nothing could have made him happier than a grandchild. What better way to signal a bright and prosperous future? "I guess that as soon as that church is built, we must have ourselves a wedding!" It was impossible to hide Stephan's enthusiasm. "You had better get and tell your mother, or she'll be accusing you of playing favorites!"

The happy couple giggled, and as they turned away, Stephan could not have felt prouder.

*****

New Town slowly rose from the rocks and sand. Fields were cleared of stones to await the precious seed. Streets formed in between the rapidly erected buildings. George and Stephan spoke no longer in division, but as old friends, and life was good.

Aurianne grew closer to Jhary with each passing day. They hunted, they helped build. Life in New Town was challenging but deeply satisfying. There was an overwhelming optimism in their current situation, even after their recent losses.

Yet Aurianne's nightly dreams got in the way of such contentment. She felt as though something was tugging at her to leave. What it was, she was uncertain. She didn't reveal her restlessness to anyone, but she sensed that Kario felt it too.