Egrenon, Land of the Blittes

By Jayeljay

Egrenon, Land of the Blittes invites the reader into an imaginary land. A Utopian land is beset with problems caused by a rebel, a renegade without regard to the values of the community. But only a few know this renegade's true identity and will not reveal it to spare the tribes from panic and horror. 

However, the tribes

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Media Reviews
• Release date: Jul 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958091395

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Egrenon, Land of the Blittes

Book One

in the Egrenon Series

Jayeljay

Copyright © 2022 Jayeljay.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author and publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-958091-40-1 (PB)

ISBN: 978-1-958091-41-8 (HB)

ISBN: 978-1-958091-39-5 (E-book)

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious and products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

The Media Reviews

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Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Glossary

Chapter 1: Pastures New for the Yearlings and the Long Journey Home

Chapter 2: New Vistas and The Theft of Modleem

Chapter 3: Beetles in The Wood and The Manhunt

Chapter 4: Sonsglo, The Final Journey

Chapter 5: Devious Deeds and A Transformation at Sansham

Chapter 6: Trouble and Tragedy in The Sonsmonts

Chapter 7: A Chase, Treachery and Truths

Chapter 8: The New Argwil Leads the Hunt

Chapter 9: Morin Strikes, Kittens Find a Friend and Fish Vanish

Chapter 10: The Mirsur Mediate and the Kittens Show Promise

Chapter 11: The Wonsfall Arrives

Chapter 12: Morin’s Motives Revealed and a Glimpse Behind the Sonsblitte Veil

Chapter 13: The Mirsglo

Chapter 14: The Matesglo

Chapter 15: The Lingsglo and New Life

Chapter 16: A Tragedy at the Southern Steppes

About the Series

Other works by this author

Glossary

Blitte: (Pronounced Blight). Usually as a suffix meaning ‘Wonder’ in their language. Tribes, land dwellers in Egrenon.

Argblitte: Fearless hunters.

Carsblitte: Foresters, carpenters, and guardians of the secret trees.

Rocsblitte: Miners, smiths, and farriers.

Sansblitte: Plainsmen, herders, and ranchers.

Sonsblitte: The Ancient Ones, advisors to the villages, renowned for their learning and wisdom.

Whetblitte: Agricultural farmers, millers, and brewers.

Wolblitte: Weavers and clothiers.

Wonsblitte: Seafarers, fishers, and glassmakers.

Mirsur: Flying race of people.

Wonsur: Underwater race of ocean dwellers.

Jagsurl: Large leopard-like cats.

Pansurl: Panther-like black cats.

Sansurl: Llama-like animals farmed for their wool, milk, and meat for special occasions.

Glo: Suffix denoting an important event.

Bartsglo: Market where villagers barter and exchange goods.

Lingsglo: Birth ritual.

Matesglo: A partnering ritual.

Mirsglo: Eclipse, occurring every 5 years. An especially important event to the Blittes.

Sonsglo: Funeral Rite. An important event when Blittes must send the deceased to their second life beyond the western horizon.

Leem: Suffix denoting produce.

Hagleem: A mineral fertiliser.

Modleem: Mineral used for waterproofing when mixed with resin.

Pocleem: Mineral salt.

Sansleem: Meat from the sansurl used for the Mirsglo celebration.

Luna: The moon.

Mir: The sun.

Monts: Mountains.

Wonsfall: Heavy rains which can last for three to four months in the winter.

Sans: The steppes, vast grassy plains.

Day (30 hours).

Year (20 months).

Lings: Children, and the young of any species.

Wil: The village leader who is not an elder of the tribe but chosen by them.

Torr: Deputy to the Wil.

Chapter 1

Pastures New for the Yearlings and the Long Journey Home

‘Sanstorr! Seriously attend those tasks of which we spoke, and with proper attention as I instructed. Do not disappoint me now! This is a chance for you to redeem yourself after the way you behaved earlier this month. This is a last chance, Sanstorr! Are my words clear to you?’ the leader of the Sansblitte tribe demanded sternly.

‘I did apologise to you and to the elders for my mistakes, Sir, and yes, your words are truly clear to me, Sanswil,’ replied the shamed deputy.

‘I put great trust in you during my absence from Sansham, Sanstorr. Do not disappoint me again… Saddle-up!’ the Sanswil ordered turning to his companions as the familiar and comforting aroma of Carsoil scented the late summer morning air.

‘Today we leave upon an important mission to lead a herd of sansurl yearlings across the plains to special feeding grounds known to us as the New Pastures. You are the team I have chosen and what is important on this journey is the welfare of the livestock and never forget that! Am I clear with my words?’ said the Sanswil to his mounted team.

‘We shall care for the sansurl as we care for our kin,’ came the reply from the riders.

With his team now mounted and ready, the Sanswil awaited the return of Mirsur scouts, and he could just make them out on their approach in the southern sky. Within moments, two scouts alighted nearby and walked over to the Sanswil. The Mirsur scouts could not land close to the horses as they could be flighty creatures and the winged Mirsur unnerved them.

‘A herd of perhaps nine-hundred head of sansurl graze close to the Black River where it narrows below the Southmonts. There is much rain on the way, and it could be heavy because an early wonsfall threatens this land, Sanswil. We checked the route to the New Pastures and at the narrow gorge you call the Great Gates, there was a landslide with the last wonsfall, and it is only passable with care,’ the impassive Mirsur scout reported unemotionally.

‘We must make haste because heavy rains ahead shall not aid us to the New Pastures, yet we must first separate the sansurl yearlings from the protective adults and that is no easy task!’ the Sanswil informed his team.

The Plainsmen of the steppes were not afraid of the impending turn in the weather, but however, horses could easily lose their footing on wet slippery ground. Horses are most valuable to the plainsmen, sturdy, swift creatures which only the Sansblitte could tame and ride. Many hundred years had elapsed since the Ancient Ones gave this single tribe the skills and secrets of horsemanship.

‘Moving the sansurl yearlings to the New Pastures is of vital importance to us, to fatten and enrich the animals ready for the celebration feast of the Mirsglo next spring. The feast is a significant event affecting all the tribes in this land,’ the Sanswil reminded his team.

Led by Mirsur scouts, the Sansblitte rode like the wind with their capes billowing and flapping. Two horse-drawn wagons followed the riders with supplies of food and water at a slower pace.

*     *     *

It was many days later when the Sanswil turned his black stallion as the group neared the large herd of sansurl. It was good for the riders that the herd grazed beside the river; they would have a natural barrier on the south flank as the sansurl never entered the dark swirling waters of the Black River below them.

‘Separate the yearlings we are to take with us and do not let the mothers dictate to you! We must separate them or there shall be no feast for the Mirsglo! Hear me now you glorious sons of Sansham! There! Take that one… swiftly… that one! And that… Those two … These! And those three… be swift in the taking you sons of my tribe, be swift and reward well your Sonsblitte fathers… You there! Am I not a father to you? Trap them, my boy! They escape you because you hesitate and do not concentrate on the task. This is no time for daydreaming, this is men’s work and now you must become a man! A man ready and alert for this vital task I bring you to. Egrenon depends on us doing our work with care for these animals, but we master them also! Show us now! Show us the skills you have learned from the elders, the supervisors and from me,’ the Sanswil said as he also watched the other young men in his group.

The day was long and arduous, such a very-long day for the Sanswil and his team with six young and inexperienced learners. The leader was no fool, this was a vital journey and he had three supervisors in his team, the best and most experienced riders of their tribe to help him show the younger men how to practice and hone the skills they had learned since early childhood. This project was the chance for the young men in the team to show and develop those skills in a practical and serious setting.

The leader watched them all as he sent half his men along the left flank to close in on the collected herd of yearlings. The men spoke and whistled softly as the nervous yearlings huddled together whilst the Sanswil nodded and encouraged with a wave or a nod, a wink here and there to say ’Well Done!’

The Sanswil took his place at the head of the herd for the sansurl to follow him. He had learned long ago that the animals could not resist the colour red which seldom appeared amongst the tasty herbs and wildflowers of the expansive grasslands the sansurl roamed so freely, and so, he tied a flowing bright red scarf to the tail of his stallion. The herd of sansurl yearlings, now enclosed on three sides by the river and the riders, willingly followed that enticing red scarf.

Two older and more experienced riders in the team remained with the adult sansurl herd, along with a youngster to teach and show how to ensure that adult sansurl did not follow their young, and those men would catch-up and join the main group a day or two later.

It had been a hot dry summer and the dust kicked up by the animal’s hooves was thick and choking for the riders, so they covered their mouths and noses with scarves whilst gently urging the yearlings on. The riders were careful not to push the animals unduly as a fast pace would toughen and devalue the meat later, just as the Sanswil and the supervisors occasionally reminded the enthusiastic young riders. The Sanswil had chosen the team for this journey carefully because it had two specific and most important purposes: the sansurl provide Egrenon with the special meat for the Mirsglo, and the young adolescent riders with him must learn the singular responsibilities demanded of his tribe in caring for these important animals.

*     *     *

After days of following the course of the Black River eastward, the terrain ahead became hilly and steep where their route turned them away from the thundering river and the now distant grassy steppes of the Sans of Egrenon.

‘Slow the uphill pace!’ the Sanswil shouted as he noticed dark clouds threateningly building to the southeast. Guessing that they had about another eight hours of riding before they reached the gorge, the Sanswil estimated the rain as six hours distant from them, but at least we should be on level ground by then, he silently hoped. However, fickle and cantankerous autumnal winds could change in an instant and suddenly bring the rain to them or drive it eastwards… and this leader knew from experience how capricious autumn winds could be! He respected them but challenged them on occasions in a game he knew he could not always win… but today he took no chances with these youngsters in his charge.

*     *     *

‘Ahead of us we have the Great Gates to negotiate, this is a very deep narrow gorge formed by two high bridged rocky outcrops. This is where the rockslide occurred which could slow us by a day or more,’ he informed his team, but the Sanswil could not assess the situation until he saw the conditions for himself.

The Mirsur scouts the Sanswil had asked to check the route in more detail returned to report their findings, ‘The Great Gates is just passable with much care, but it shall seriously slow your progress to the New Pastures, Sanswil.’

The leader looked again at the dark glowering clouds thickening above the Southmonts far to their right. ‘We drive on!’ the Sanswil ordered his team. ‘We are ahead of the storms our Mirsur friends speak of, and we must stay ahead of them. Be firm and decided but be gentle with the precious sansurl!

*     *     *

It was many hours later when the riders urged the jittery sansurl cautiously into the gaping mouth of the narrowing gorge. It became darker as rising walls of rock blocked out the light and made the sansurl nervous to enter such an enclosed place because they were animals of the steppes with its freedom to roam. These animals had never been to the New Pastures as they were yearlings, specially bred for the Mirsglo, and they must be at their prime in time for the feast of the Mirsglo in the springtime.

The riders gently urged the uneasy sansurl forward across fallen debris still wet from the last rain shower.

‘We must be clear of the gorge and its dangers before the next deluge arrives!’ the Sanswil urged. ‘Trapped in this crumbling narrow gorge in a storm could be hideously dangerous for the sansurl, us, and our horses!’ he said as he surveyed the rock walls of the gorge. He noticed the overhanging rocks and pockets of loose gravel high above them that threatened to crash down upon man and beast at any moment. ‘Move with caution and as quietly as possible through this corridor of impending doom. We do not want those jittery rocks falling upon us,’ he said as he pointed upwards.

Our team cannot return by this route, so, after leaving the sansurl at their new home we shall take the long route home. It shall add many more days for the return journey, but the alternative route would avoid the gorge and its implied dangers, besides, the closing storm could make the gorge route completely impassable with more rockfalls, the Sanswil reasoned inwardly.

Hours of patiently watching, urging, and assertively persuading the nervous sansurl passed before the last men left the gorge with six panicky stragglers ahead of them, and to their leader’s great relief, the riders and sansurl all managed to pass through the hazardous rocky corridor without incident. The Sanswil congratulated and sincerely thanked his riders for an important task so very well done.

*     *     *

Through a glorious gap between the dark glowering clouds, the sun shone brightly beyond the Great Gates, blinding the riders as they exited the haunting gloom of the gorge. Their journey now took the riders southeast down a long gradually sloping track, and then northward towards a wide valley floor. The terrain there was of sand, shingle, and a deep layer of flint cobblestones as far north as the eye could see. Then began the long walk for the Plainsmen as they dismounted, because they could not ride the horses with the risk of injury to them on the cobblestone floor.

The warming sun smiled unconvincingly as capricious winds turned from southerlies to south westerlies, keeping the rain at bay for the moment and in favour of the plainsmen, but pushing torrential rains back towards the gorge of the Great Gates now so far behind the riders. The evasive sun disappeared again as moody clouds closed in, casting the riders into an early twilight. The riders with their charges still had to cross the stone valley to reach the safety of higher ground, and if the storm came with all its force, this valley could flood and drown the precious herd the team had worked so hard to protect, and the Sanswil could also lose his riders and horses in a deluge. The leader felt deeply aware of the dangers as he led his group to the eastern side of the valley and stayed close to the steep hills bordering that side, there were no cobbles at that edge and the terrain much easier to traverse.

The tiring riders had not halted for a midday meal, choosing instead to make for safety. Apart from horses, this herd of sansurl was the Sansblitte’s most valuable; all the tribes of Egrenon relied upon them for the success of the feast of the Mirsglo and each team member knew it.

An angry wind began to rage and howl above the steep hills as the riders neared the New Pastures, the sky darkened as novices and seasoned riders watched for the reactions of the herd at the sounds of thunder. If the storm holds off for just a few more hours… That was all the riders wished for, all they needed to get this precious herd to their new home.

The plainsmen left the deep stone valley below them as they cautiously traversed the steep slippery wet hills upwards, and then beyond the long climb to the inviting New Pastures few other than Sansblitte had ever seen.

Cresting the last exhausting hill, the riders saw a huge and magnificent rainbow with its mirror image… And there! There! Below them in its magnificent glory glistening below double rainbows spread the New Pastures. Shiny and wet from a recent shower, it enticed with its plentiful lush grasses and wild herbs; it was this which gave sansurl meat such a rich distinctive flavour. The gravelly soil here was not suited to cultivation, but wild herbs and grasses coped with that, and none heard them complain. The leader smiled as he viewed the verdant lands he had achingly expected, these lands were special, not just for the sansurl but for Sanswil the herbalist also.

The Sanswil asked the Mirsur to check the perimeter fences of the pasture as he opened the ancient gates to this special place… and then, the first of the sansurl yearlings entered the verdant expanse of their new home of green luxury, a sansurl image of heaven… perhaps!

The young rider’s faces showed their relief and surprise also as they viewed the vivid-green and sweet luxuriant grasslands such as they had never seen before in their lives. The New Pastures were ancient grasslands, and none knew that better than the supreme Plainsman and leader of the Sansblitte.

The sansurl had not grazed since just before entering the gorge at the Great Gates and their nostrils twitched excitedly as they captured the scents of fresh grasses. The animals picked up speed and bunched together as they headed towards the narrow entrance of such rich feeding grounds. The Sanswil called up six riders to stay ahead of the herd and slow them as he removed the redundant red scarf from his horse’s tail now that they had reached the promised land for their tender yearlings.

The last of the eager sansurl entered the lush pasture and riders closed and fastened the gates behind them.

*     *     *

The Mirsur scouts returned to give their report; ‘Sanswil, we found a breach in the fencing two leagues to the east and another four leagues to the north,’ said a scout.

Sanswil thanked the scouts and immediately split his men into three teams, one to deal with each repair and the third to set up the camp for the night. He asked the Mirsur to inform the following wagons to turn north and meet them at the mountain pass to Argblitte lands thirty days from now, but that was an estimate on his part. In all his years he had never used the notorious route north through the Great North Ridge, but now he had no other choice. He could not risk the Great Gates for the return journey because the Mirsur told him of more recent storm damage to the gorge… The journey across the mountains ahead of them could be more perilous from what he knew of past journeys along that northern route.

*     *     *

Laden Sansblitte wagons trundled slowly across the plains, the horses pulling them were the older and less fleet-of-foot horses no longer used for herding as they did not have the essential bursts of speed needed for a round-up. When horses reached about nine-years of age the Plainsmen gave them to the other tribes to pull carts and ploughs in their retirement from the extreme demands of riding the plains. All the tribes of Egrenon treated horses with deep respect and the same care as the plainsmen because all Blittes needed transport in such a vast land that only horses provide, or the swift transport the Mirsur could provide with their nets, a mode of travel few men would willingly choose.

*     *     *

The Sanswil sat in quiet contemplation beside the comforting glow of an evening fire whilst stirring a large pot of water and adding some wild herbs, he made an infusion the Blittes called ‘brew.’

The team of riders from the eastern fences returned and the others would arrive from the north some while later.

The rains had passed for now, cloaking the lands with an unseasonal late summer chill in the early evening air. Riders erected their tents in a circle around the central fire whilst unsaddled horses grazed peacefully nearby upon the verdant green.

There were still two hours until dusk descended, the time the riders would normally have their late meal. Of course, the plainsmen were hungry, having missed out on the midday meal and breakfast was certainly a long-forgotten event by now.

So many long days had passed since the plainsmen left the wagons, and some of those days had been hard fast riding with occasional stops to water and rest the horses.

Contemplating the return journey, the Sanswil gently stirred the infusion whilst in deep thought. My riders must cross very rough and rocky terrain and then face the cold, wild windswept mountains of the Great North Ridge, the southernmost boundary of Argblitte lands. The route home really concerned him for the safety of the horses and his team, it was a long and hazardous route where the riders must walk for a considerable distance whilst leading their mounts as the Mirsur guides had seriously recommended.

The Sanswil knew of the many dangers lying in wait for them as he thought about the journey ahead; wild bears roam the mountains and woodlands below the mountain peaks and wild hogs from which the domestic pigs descended, but most of all, what worries me is the jagsurl. Infamously ferocious and cunning, this clever predator uses the ambush as its main technique for capturing its prey. A jagsurl cannot outrun a horse at full gallop the Mirsur told me, but these hard-ridden animals are tired, and for two of them this shall be their last round-up—

One of his men broke into his thoughts. ‘Sir, the team from the northern fences approach in the distance.’

The Sanswil signaled that the camp team could now prepare the long-awaited evening meal.

Later, the leader poured the brew into a row of mugs and each of the weary riders from the north sipped the steaming infusion. The drink was slightly sweet and aromatic and the Sanswil had learnt how to prepare the herbal drink from his father when he was just a boy; it needed a good knowledge of how to blend a variety of wild herbs. The herbs of Egrenon were of special interest to the Sanswil and he was renowned in Egrenon for his skill in treating all manner of ailments.

*     *     *

‘The meal is almost ready now, how are things up there, Sanslok?’ Sanswil asked the supervisor, nodding towards the north whilst tasting the food. He added a final pinch of herbs and removed the large pot from the fire.

‘We repaired a stretch of fence, but it is just a temporary repair, Sanswil. The sansurl have plenty of grazing to occupy them here and should not roam so far north for some time. However, we really should replace many of the posts, they shall not withstand the wonsfall this year, and we shall need wagons to get the materials up there,’ Sanslok replied.

‘I shall ask the Mirsur to bring the supplies we need, we cannot get wagons up here now and we cannot risk the sansurl straying beyond the pastures… Ah, the food is ready… Mirsur, you are welcome to join us for the meal, my friends,’ he said, turning to the winged guides.

During the meal, Sanswil discussed his concerns with the Mirsur about the north fence, their return route, and the threat of ambush by the jagsurl.

‘I shall call to my brothers, and we can scan the terrain to warn you of any threats. If needed, we can haul the jagsurl up in our nets and drop them far away from you and the horses,’ said a Mirsur scout.

‘The Argblitte may not approve of any harm to the jagsurl, Mirsur,’ replied the Sanswil with some concern.

‘We do not intend harm to them, Sanswil, just to catch them with the nets and remove any threats to you and the horses. We have done so before when your father was the Sanswil,’ the Mirsur said as he broke off another chunk of warm corn flatbread.

The supervisor named Sanslok had been with the Sanswil’s father on the occasion the Mirsur mentioned.

‘I recall that journey, Sanswil; I was just a boy compared to my years now… it was a most fearsome journey which none could forget in two lifetimes. A ferocious jagsurl sank its teeth and claws deep into your father’s horse, it gored his hind legs terribly and as the hunters killed the jagsurl your father put the screaming stallion out of its pain. It was a sad and horrific day for us all. Then, filled so deep with grief, your father walked for the rest of the journey carrying the saddle. Eighty-one days it took to reach the wagons just beyond the Argblitte lands at the pass, and your father exhausted himself to the very edge of death itself. I believe that only his thoughts of your mother and you prevented him from taking that step into nothingness. Had he been a single man I believe he would not be with us today; such was his love and dedication to family and beast alike. Sanswil, we offered to take turns walking and let him ride for a while, or to carry the saddle for him, but he was very stubborn in his refusals. It was his mount and his responsibility he told us,’ Sanslok related.

‘It is a story I know well, not from my father but from others. He does not speak of it to me, Sanslok, for it hurts him still, not just the loss of his beloved mount but the horse and rider he lost in a ravine also. We could ask the Argblitte to provide safe passage for us, after all, we are close neighbours and the Mirsur scout for them also,’ said the Sanswil.

‘If you wish it of us Sanswil we shall ask them for you, and we shall return with posts and wires to repair the fences,’ said an inexpressive Mirsur.

‘Thank you, my dear, dear friends, it would be impossible for us to get our wagons up here with the current condition of the Great Gates,’ the Sanswil responded to the generous offer.

*     *     *

Now, night’s dark mantle descended to chill and cloak the comfortable green New Pastures. Some riders went to bed the horses whilst others attended to menial chores. Other recently returned riders sat around the fire warming their hands and relating tales of past roundups. Sanswil prepared another pot of brew to the delight of his companions; none could make a brew like his. A while later, Sanswil did his round of the camp and returned to the fire as other riders retired to their tents tired and contented, they slept like babies.

*     *     *

As he slowly poked at the glowing embers of the fire, Sanswil considered how they might clear the landslide at the Great Gates; it was a project for a future time, but it needed some deep thought and a lot of work. He decided that he would discuss the problem with the elders upon his return, one of whom was his father. If they could not find an answer, then surely the Sonsblitte could; these were the most ancient of all the tribes and the stories of their wisdom and intelligence had almost taken on mythical status.

For now, the leader decided that the answers could wait, there was much else to occupy them in the meantime out on the far Western Steppes. Sheep were ready for rounding up and the long drive home; the hog yearlings needed separating from the adult males, and back at the village the timber houses required waterproofing with modleem, fencing needed replacing, wild horses to round-up and stallions and mares selected for breeding— Yes, there was still much to occupy the Sansblitte before the full onset of winter and most of this must happen during his unplanned prolonged absence, and it gave the Sanswil much cause for concern as he thought about the man he left in charge, the wayward deputy. Recently, the Sanstorr had disregarded instructions when training a young man how to tame a wild horse. This was a skill within the ability of the deputy, and few were as good as him at the task, but the young man was not skilled enough and the Sanswil told him so. In the leader’s absence, the deputy urged the young man to have a go, hoping to prove the tribe leader wrong… The man broke an arm and dislocated his shoulder when the horse threw him and then kicked him. Accidents happen as the Sanswil agreed, and to the very best riders sometimes… but this was a case of ignoring or defying the Sanswil’s advice when he considered the young man was not ready for such a task. He hoped that his deputy had learnt a valuable lesson and the daily sight of the man with his arm in a sling would remind the deputy of his failure to obey.

*     *     *

The Sansblitte riders slept soundly until the Mir awoke them; its bright golden rays heralded a glorious day as the Mirsur returned and reported to the Sanswil.

‘We stopped at the wagons and told them of your new route home and of the repairs needed for the fencing, and we bring you some of the supplies they carry. The Argblitte consent to join you and send thirty hunters to meet you. The meeting place is this side of the Great North Ridge beside the cascade. The Argwil says that jagsurl abound in numbers in the woodlands on the far side of the ridge, you were wise to seek their aid. Only eight days since did they discover the carcase of a bear, and they are not easy to bring down. The Argwil believes that the jagsurl now hunt as pack animals instead of solitary ones. I have sent word to my brothers to dispatch ten pairs armed with nets… is there any brew, Sanswil?’ the Mirsur asked eagerly.

Sanswil poured the Mirsur and himself another brew and said dourly, ‘though your news brings fearsome worries of dangers to my team, I take some comfort in the news that my old friend the Argwil comes to our aid… did you manage to bring posts for the repairs, my friends?’

‘Yes, we left them alongside the rotted ones. Your father sends his regards, and he assures you that the posts are mature and treated with modleem. Wires and staples we placed at the north fence also,’ the winged scout added.

‘Thank you, my dear friends, you aid us well with your swift efficiency and I convey the appreciation my kinfolk owe to you and your brothers, eat now and enjoy the humble fare we offer at this early hour,’ said the grateful Sanswil.

Later, the riders struck camp and headed uphill toward the north fence of the New Pastures.

*     *     *

‘They do indeed look to be in a sorry state!’ exclaimed the Sanswil as he inspected the old, rotted posts upon his arrival. ‘We should attend this task straight away for the safety of the sansurl!’

The leader organised two teams working in opposite directions, removing the rotted posts, and replacing them with new ones. The work took the teams most of a day to replace the rotted sections, but at least now the sansurl were secure and the repairs met with the Sanswil’s approval.

With the tasks completed, the Sanswil ordered that the team have the late meal and a night of rest. In the morning they would engage upon the arduous trek to the distant peaks of the Great North Ridge.

*     *     *

The next morning, the Sansblitte riders and the Mirsur scouts embarked upon the long journey north. The riders rode their mounts uphill at a regular pace to conserve the horses’ energy.

Just before dusk, the now familiar swaying clumps of bamboo grasslands surrendered to sparsely wooded areas. In the far distance, the group could see the dark irregular shapes of the Great North Ridge. It occurred to the Sanswil that at one point the craggy outline resembled the head of a jagsurl with its jaws wide open. He had never seen one and few had apart from the Argblitte, but many years ago an elder had described them to him. The sight filled him with a sense of foreboding.

*     *     *

The riders set up camp for the night, without a clear full moon the plainsmen seldom travelled in the dark; it was far too risky for the horses. The Mirsur had told the Sanswil that the terrain ahead would slow them and that beyond some sparsely wooded areas, sharp jagged flints protruded from beneath the undulating open ground.

During the late meal, the Sanswil spoke with his team and instructed the riders to put special shoes on their mounts in the morning, also, that they must tread carefully on the journey to avoid tripping or falling. If anyone became injured it could be disastrous, a scent of blood carried on the southerly winds might alert the predatory jagsurl ahead of them in the north.

*     *     *

The Sanswil slept fitfully because the safety of these animals and riders were his responsibility and the dangers of the route ahead of them weighed heavily upon him. He saw imagined jagsurl in his nightmare, vicious and snarling, slashing, biting, crunching bones into shards and ripping off limbs. The carnage in his dream was horrific to him and he awoke soaked with sweat.

It was still dark outside the tent, and he had no idea of how long he had slept; it may have been minutes or hours. He was now too tense to sleep and was wide-awake.

The Mirsur seated by the fire greeted him: ‘You could not sleep, Sanswil?’ a Mirsur asked.

‘No,’ he replied, ‘hideous nightmares interrupt my sleep, my friend. I really hope the Argblitte are as good as my old friend the Argwil says they are, for the sake of my men and our horses.’

‘They are exceptionally good, Sanswil, there are none to match them for speed and the accuracy they have with their weapons. They do not ride as you do, but they can match your stallion at a canter, even over long distances. They fear nothing at all; the word fear does not exist for them. I have scouted for them many times, Sanswil, and I can attest to their excellent skills,’ a Mirsur replied.

‘I thank you for your assurances, my friend. When shall your brothers join us?’ enquired the Sanswil.

‘Worry not, Plainsman, our chosen brothers shall be at the cascade when we arrive some days hence,’ replied a Mirsur guide.

‘My eternal gratitude to you, Mirsur, you are our lifeline in this troublesome time,’ the appreciative Sanswil responded.

*     *     *

The Mir was not yet above the eastern horizon, nevertheless, a soft orange glow announced its imminent arrival.

The Sanswil roused his riders and prepared the