Chapter 11: Trials of Trust
Now that she was calmer and accepted the situation, things went smoothly. He helped her go through her equipment and made sure she was wearing her med-alert bracelet. He explained about Sanctuary—the processing building where the Sanctuary Program, overseen by Heliopolis, processed newbies—mentioning only that the place was designed to push people out fast.
Tobal showed her the compass and map, pointing out which items were more important than others. He advised her to grab a couple extra blankets off the beds and showed how to pack everything tightly into a pack she could carry, the fabric rustling as she stuffed it in. Curious, she sipped the water from her canteen, grimacing at its metallic tang, then nibbled the food bar, spitting it out with a cough. “Ugh, that’s awful!” she exclaimed. Tobal chuckled. “Told you—it’s safe but nasty. Encourages us to move quick.”
He decided to wait out the rain. There was no sense traveling in such bad weather, and he spent one more day at Sanctuary getting to know Fiona and teaching her how to use the supplies. He explained about the maps and compass, tracing routes with his finger, and how to read them. On the morning of the second day, the rain had stopped, and it promised to be mild and clear. The sun was shining, its warmth seeping into his skin, the air fresh and crisp with the scent of wet earth. It was a perfect day for traveling, and he started by having her triangulate their location and finding it on the map, her focus sharpening with each step.
In high spirits, they headed cross-country to the southeast toward the lake where Tobal’s main camp was. Fiona was leading the way, marking knots in her cord every half-mile, her steady pace a reassuring rhythm. Since her steps were shorter than Tobal’s, she used a higher number of steps before tying the knot, but the principle was the same, her determination evident in her careful movements. As they walked, Tobal’s strange dark dreams grew stronger, the ghostly figures and slaughter haunting his sleep, and one night he woke Fiona from a nightmare, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I saw blood on the waterfall.” Her restless murmurs mirrored his own, deepening their shared unease.
As the first week progressed, things didn’t go as smoothly as they had when training with Rafe, especially since he had lost most of his emergency supplies in the flash flood. They relied heavily on the nasty-tasting Sanctuary food at first, its bitter aftertaste lingering. They spotted Federation drones sneaking around, one buzzing by a distant waterfall, its hum cutting through the trees, and once or twice, Tobal paused, feeling watched. “Did you see that?” he whispered, a shadow rustling at the forest’s edge. Fiona tensed. “Stay close,” she murmured, though he never found tracks, the sight sending a chill down his spine.
Fiona proved a quick student with an animal instinct toward self-preservation and survival. Tobal made a walking stick for her, its smooth wood fitting her grip, and showed her how to use it. As they traveled, he taught her many of the things Rafe had taught him—testing food to see if it was edible, the earthy scent of safe herbs guiding their choices, and collecting them as they went along. She caught on to snares with an uncanny sense of how animals thought and where they made their trails, her nimble fingers setting traps with ease. During one trek, Fiona slipped on a rock, Tobal steadying her as a sharp edge cut his hand slightly, blood mixing with mud, a stark reminder of nature’s unforgiving edge. Everything was backwards from how Rafe had taught him, a reversal that challenged his instincts.
More times than not, it was Fiona’s snare or trap that held the rabbit or quail, not Tobal’s, the snap of the catch a small victory. She turned out to be a much better trapper than he was. He comforted himself with the thought they had plenty of meat and spent a few days smoking jerky, the rich smoke curling around them, building up their emergency food supply.
Fiona proved to be a natural with a sling and said she played a lot of baseball as a kid, her aim sharp and confident. She was already skilled in archery, which she learned in high school, having been on the school archery team, her arrows finding their mark with practiced grace. As she threw her knife at the quail, Tobal noticed her focus, muttering, “Where’d you learn that?” She shrugged, “Survival back home,” her tone leaving it open-ended.
There were less than 24 days until the next gathering, and Tobal wondered if Fiona would be ready. He suspected she would, given how fast she caught on to things, her quick learning a quiet pride for him. He felt it didn’t matter that much because Fiona was ready to solo, and one or two days less than a month should not matter that much. He pushed the thought out of his mind, focusing on the path ahead.
After four days of travel, they reached the lake. Tobal looked around his main camp with a mixture of shock and grief, the charred remains stinging his eyes. There was nothing left standing. It had been vandalized and burned until nothing was left. Two of his food caches had been plundered, but luckily, they hadn’t found the third in a hollow spot of an old tree, sealed with rocks for protection from squirrels and other animals. As they opened the cache and divided the food, Fiona started a fire, the crackle a small comfort, and began making supper, the scent of cooking meat rising. Tobal wandered the ruins in stunned disbelief with tears stinging his eyes, wondering why anyone would have done this. Gradually, grief gave way to intense anger that rolled in his belly and glinted harshly in his eyes. He started looking around the camp for signs of who had done this thing.
He found some tracks and signs but wasn’t good enough at reading them to discern much about what had really happened. Obviously, three people had come along and destroyed the place. All of his hard work was gone, and his supplies ruined. It was hard to tell what was missing or just scattered. He was able to retrieve a few tools, their weight a faint consolation. Everything else was a loss.
The attackers left no trail to follow. Not wanting to stay in the remains of the camp, they set out around the shore of the lake. Tobal and Fiona sat by the water’s edge, the lapping waves a quiet backdrop. “What do you think happened here?” she asked, her voice soft. “Looks like someone didn’t want anyone staying,” Tobal replied, his tone heavy. “Maybe they’re hiding something.” She nodded, her eyes scanning the ruins. “It’s creepy—feels like we’re not alone.” They agreed to move on, the mystery lingering.
There was a waterfall at the far end of the lake where a mountain stream fed into it, and Tobal wanted to explore that. He had noticed it on his first trip around the lake, and something about it called to him, a pull he couldn’t ignore, especially since it haunted his dreams. Now he knew he wanted to explore it more later.
The country was rough, and they were careful to keep their own trail hidden, the crunch of gravel underfoot their only sound. The next camps Tobal and Fiona made were small and well-hidden, sheltered by rock overhangs or dense thickets. They now knew why no one else built anything on the lake. It was an obvious target for anyone going up or coming downstream. It was simply not safe and asking for trouble to build there permanently.
The end of the lake with the waterfall was very rocky and difficult to travel. There was no shore, and the rock simply dropped down into the water. What Tobal had in mind was finding some way to go upstream and explore with Fiona for a couple of weeks until the gathering. Perhaps he could find a better place to set up a main camp. With this goal in mind, they struggled through the maze of rock, boulders, and vegetation until reaching the edge of the water on the left side of the waterfall.
The waterfall was thirty feet high, and you could tell it was ancient since it had once been ten feet higher. Erosion by water in the streambed caused the rock on both sides of the stream to rise like stone pillars hidden by pine trees and forest vegetation. It was a small stream, only ten feet wide. The falling water arched over a narrow ledge that disappeared into a blank stone wall at the other end of the fall. Where they stood, the ledge opened into a small patio-like area that was flat and free of rock. It was less than a foot higher than the lake and formed a deep pool.
The water fell into the lake with a roar and violence that made the water churn and froth, but on the side where they were standing, the water was inviting and made just for swimming. There was a ledge slightly below the surface of the water, so a swimmer could easily climb back out after diving into the icy water. Tobal probed the hidden ledge with his walking stick, and the shock of discovery made icy chills explode at the base of his spine. It wasn’t a ledge at all. It was the first of at least three steps that had been deliberately carved into the rock, leading down into the pool of water. He felt a pull to dive, resisting it with effort, knowing this was something he needed to explore more later.
The discovery of the stone stairs made him more alert, and he carefully examined the small patio area where they stood. Fiona shared his excitement and enthusiasm, her eyes bright with curiosity. She finally found what they both were looking for. The cliff face jutted out in a rough and uneven manner. She had been following the cliff face and turned a sharp corner that couldn’t be seen from the patio area. In a small recess, there were distinct footholds and handholds carved into the face of the cliff, leading up where they seemed to disappear.
Tobal was first up the cliff and pulled himself onto a wide ledge that wasn’t visible from below. He helped Fiona over the edge, and they both looked around with interest. There was vegetation since topsoil had collapsed from above and fallen down. Trees, shrubbery, and vines found footholds in the small layer of topsoil and clung desperately to the rock.
Near the trees, a narrow crack in the cliff face formed a small chimney that could be climbed by pressing the body against one side and gradually working up the remaining fifteen feet to the top. They took off their packs and cut one blanket into strips, braiding it into a short rope they used to lift their packs up the chimney. Grabbing onto foliage and tree roots, Tobal pulled himself out of the rock chimney, helped Fiona out, and coiled the rope, putting it into his pack. At the top, the soil was heavier, and the foliage was more dense and almost impossible to get through. The ring of foliage gave way to pine trees, and the footing got easier. He could see what looked like a large camp ahead and started toward it.
They broke into the open and looked around in wonder at what had obviously been a large camp. There were the remains of permanent shelters and a kitchen area. Near the river was a large circle ringed with stone seats that must have been used for ceremonies and initiations. Further up a small hill were the remains of a sweat lodge, and beyond that, a patch of volunteer corn was still coming up in patches after all these years. It must have been fifteen or twenty years since anyone had visited or used the camp.
A large cairn of rocks dominated the middle of the site and was covered with offerings. They were a strange assortment of man-made objects, weathered and destroyed beyond recognition of what they once had been. As Tobal approached the cairn, a haunted energy emanated from it, a cold shiver running through him, and he instinctively knew it was the mass grave Adam had told him about. Even more strange was an offering of fresh flowers lying at its base, their sweet scent a stark contrast to the decay. “Someone else knows about this place,” he murmured, his voice tight. Fiona nodded, her eyes wide. “And they’ve been here recently—who could it be? Maybe they honor the dead?” They stood in silence, the mystery deepening their unease. “We need to get out of here, now,” Tobal said urgently. Fiona agreed, her voice low, “It feels wrong to stay.” With a shared glance, they gathered their gear and moved quickly, the weight of the secret pressing them to leave.
This was the place he had been dreaming about. People had once held gatherings here just as they did at circle. What had happened? How and why had they died? Had they known his mother and father? Was this the place Sarah’s mother and two brothers were buried? A certainty deep in his gut told him that it was. All these questions were turning in his mind, but even more forcefully was the instinctive knowledge that they needed to get out of here fast. They couldn’t be found in this place.
He knew with sick certainty this was why no one was allowed to build camps near the lake. There was some secret hidden here that was meant to remain hidden. It was dangerous to stay because they could be tracked by their med-alert bracelets. Medics would be coming soon by air sled to check on them unless they got out of the area quickly.
It was an hour later when the first air sled appeared and circled over them. By then, they were three miles away from the abandoned camp and heading upstream. They waved, but the medic didn’t wave back. After circling a few times, he simply left.
Tobal was feeling uneasy about the situation and knew continuing upstream was a mistake. It would give the impression they might follow the stream back down again to return to the forbidden area. With this in mind, he checked his location on the map and set out directly cross-country toward the gathering spot. Twice that day, air sleds checked on them but simply flew over without circling.
They made a few dry camps before reaching water again, and the going was extremely rough. The terrain was much more rocky with less vegetation and animal life. More than once, Tobal was grateful for Fiona’s prowess with snare and sling. Things would have been much more difficult if he had been on his own out here.
There were no more air sleds, and Tobal felt relief but remained careful. Camps he chose now were secret, hidden, and very hard to find, sheltered by rock overhangs or dense thickets. They built fires with dry wood that would not smoke and give away their location.
Fiona took to this new training like a duck takes to water. She was naturally secretive and suspicious of strangers. She moved so quietly with the ability to appear and disappear that she seemed like a ghost. She laughed when he told her that, though. Basically, Tobal was an even-tempered teacher, and she was quick and eager to learn. After one week of wandering, they had learned navigating by map and compass. While she was an expert with the sling, it took her a while to get her first deer with the bow, mainly because of the terrain they were traveling in. With time running short, they returned to Tobal’s main camp area, working to rebuild shelters and caches, the reversed methods from Rafe’s teachings challenging their efforts.
She was now providing the food for both of them and learning to construct various shelters. It was mid-July, and there were plenty of berries to eat as well. They saw larger animals like deer, bear, cougar, and mountain goats. It was certainly an area not occupied by anyone else.
After one week of wandering, they found a small hidden canyon with its own small waterfall and plenty of game. It was a box canyon with only one entrance that was a narrow crack in a rock face. They only found it by accident when Fiona was checking places to set out snares for the night.
It was in this remote little canyon that he decided to make his permanent base camp. They spent the remaining time building shelters, reinforcing Tobal’s main camp with new structures. He finished his teepee and used the blanket material they brought as outer covering. Together they built a permanent smoker and rack for sun-drying jerky in the hot summer sun and completed a sweat lodge they were both dying to try out.
One morning, Fiona came running to him, all excited. She had found a honey tree. It was a rare treat, and Tobal knew it would make a big hit at circle if they could find a way to get the honey without killing the bees. In the end, they covered themselves with poncho material and smoked the bees out, reaching into the tree with heavily protected hands and arms. They took two canteen cups full of the rich honeycomb and honey, leaving the rest for later. Tobal wanted the bees to survive and keep a constant supply of honey available.
Time passed quickly; it was almost the full moon, and they were far from the gathering spot. To make things even more complicated, they would be coming into the gathering spot from the valley and not from the cliff trail that most newbies entered on their first time into the area. He didn’t know how that was going to work out and decided to think about it later when they got closer to circle.
Uncertain how to bring Fiona into the camp, Tobal chose to remain hidden. With a smirk of satisfaction, he stepped around the boulder from the wide trail onto the narrow ledge and climbed to the top with Fiona following him, then instructed her to come back down the trail on her own. He figured the hidden guards would understand what was going on. He told her to wait five minutes before descending, then settled to watch. As he climbed, he hesitated, thinking, “Should I warn her about the guards?” but shook it off. He passed the area where they had taken him without incident and felt things were going all right. He was totally unprepared for the blood-curdling scream and sounds of struggle he heard coming from below. It was too late now.
Racing back down, he saw Fiona standing with her back to the cliff face, a bloody knife in her hand and a crazed look on her face. She saw Tobal and flung herself into his arms, sobbing hysterically and trembling violently.
“They attacked me,” she kept sobbing. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
One of the guards lay sprawled on the trail, bleeding fiercely from a gash in his shoulder. Tobal recognized him as a Journeyman named Dirk. The dark-haired girl was applying first aid to her fallen companion and ignoring Fiona as if she didn’t exist. The third guard was presumably running for assistance back to the camp.
Tobal held her shaking body, keeping her steady until she cried herself out. He didn’t know what to do. Other guards would be coming soon, and he was going to be in big trouble. He couldn’t think of anything to say and quietly led Fiona back down the trail. They heard the sound of running feet and moved quickly into the shadows as a group of six guards raced up the trail toward their fallen comrade.
Getting back on the trail, they entered the camp, and Tobal tried finding someone with a red robe that could straighten this whole mess out. He found Ellen, the High Priestess, by the circle and turned Fiona over to her. Fiona clung first to him as he tried to leave and then to Ellen for reassurance and safety after Ellen convinced her that everything was going to be all right.
Tobal explained the situation to Ellen, and Fiona was aghast and horrified to find out she had attacked and wounded someone who was only trying to initiate her into circle. She was furious at Tobal for setting the thing up, and Ellen had to forcibly restrain her from attacking Tobal in her fury. Ellen took it in stride and chuckled a bit.
“You certainly have what it takes to belong to our clan,” she said. “Things will be alright. Don’t worry about it.”
When the guards came to get her, Ellen suggested not to fight but go along with them peacefully for her initiation and entry into the clan. Tobal saw with amusement that Rafe was one of them and the dark-haired girl another. There were six guards coming over to where Ellen, Tobal, and Fiona were talking. Although some of the guards looked angry, Rafe was smiling. Tobal gave him a bear hug and couldn’t help but notice that Rafe flinched as if he were injured or hurt. “You okay?” Tobal asked quietly. Rafe deflected with a grin, “Just tired,” and gave no further sign anything was wrong. The guards took a peaceful and submissive Fiona to get ready for her initiation.
As they left, Ellen turned to him with a grim look on her face and said, “I think you’ve got a little explaining to do to Zee and Kevin. They were looking all over for you after circle last month. I’ll be wanting to talk with you a bit later myself, ok?”
“Oh, damn!” he said. “I forgot all about them! When do you want to talk with me?”
“Sometime after circle.”
Word soon spread that Tobal’s newbie had skewered one of the guards on the way into camp. The guard was doing fine and in no danger. Most clansmen treated it as something that was highly funny, but Tobal was not amused. Things had gone horribly wrong, and someone could have been hurt or even killed, and he felt responsible.
He was at the center of the circle proclaiming Fiona ready for her initiation when he noticed the red-haired girl, Becca, staring at him from the left side of the fire. Turning away, he continued talking and then resolutely returned to his sitting spot, determined not to look in her direction again. He had seen the wonder and astonishment on her face and knew she was as surprised to see him as he had been to see her.
Tobal’s situation was unique in that he was acting as a sponsor bringing a person into the clan for the first time. This was not a normal situation, and Fiona’s escapade with the guards made a lively buzz of conversation around the camp as people congregated before the circle and chatted together. To his relief, after her initiation, the elders approved her solo.
There were some farewells as some three-year Masters left to become citizens. August was hot, very hot even in the mountains. He was thirsty and walked over to the beer barrel.
“Hi Nikki,” he said.
“Oh,” she looked startled and turned around toward him. “Hi.”
“Congratulations on soloing.”
“Thanks.” She said and bit her lip. For some reason, she seemed a bit cool towards him. As she walked away, Tobal overheard her mutter, “Should’ve told us,” hinting at his sudden departure after circle.
“Is there anything wrong?”
“No,” she said, “I’ve just got to get going. I want to train a newbie and need to get my things ready to leave early.” She turned and walked away from him.
“Good luck,” he said to her back as she walked away. There was something definitely wrong, and it seemed to be him for some reason.
Moving over by the circle, he saw Angel dressed in a black robe and was surprised that she was a Journeyman with three chevrons.
“I thought you were an Apprentice,” he told her. “When I saw you in Sanctuary with your broken leg, you were dressed in gray.”
“That was because of my injury,” she told him. “When I went through processing for treatment, I was given the old gray stuff, and my other clothes were ruined.”
They chatted for a bit, and she was pleasant. It must just be the Apprentices that were pissed at him.
“Who is that dark-haired girl with Dirk?” he asked suddenly. “I’ve been meaning to find out her name for two months now.” He blushed a bit.
Angel laughed. “That’s Misty; she’s only got one more fight to win before she makes Master. Perhaps she can fight you, get you ready for being a real Journeyman?” She winked.
Tobal was embarrassed and changed the subject. He always had trouble with girls and didn’t really know how to take them.
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