There was a large fire going in the midst of the circle of villagers, next to which, Akorsa recognized, her father was standing. The Arimythians, though they had no official leader, looked up to her father. He was a good man, as well as a wise one. He had solved many a problem in his days, as had his sires and grandsires before him. He now addressed his friends, relatives, and neighbors with the most admirable of tones.
�We lost a terribly large amount of our crops in this day�s attack. Most fortunately on our part, they were not yet harvested. Had they been in the barn, they would have been completely destroyed,� said Alvis. �The harvest is only in another moon. I fear we will not have enough food to send off to Ilyana and Uljaya, let alone enough to feed ourselves.�
There was a wave of talking that started though the people, who all knew what this would mean. A larger portion of the harvest was given to the two great cities of Uljaya and Ilyana. That was, in a sense, the form of taxes that the Arimythians paid. They were the only source of food to be found, and if they were unable to deliver what was needed, hundreds would starve. This fact did not even need to be mentioned among the Arimythians, as it was so greatly known and this situation so greatly feared among their ranks.
�What shall we do, then?� queried one of the villagers. �The Proctors shall not be pleased!�
The Proctors, a council of ten that ruled over all who lived in the known world, were sure to come down the Arimythians for their failure to deliver the needed food. The fact of the matter was that if they could not produce the food, the Proctors would more than likely insist on a monetary replacement, and all the villagers knew it. The problem was that this farming village had no income, received no revenue for their hard works, and had no monetary system because they bartered respectfully amongst themselves.
�They shall never be pleased,� said Akorsa, sliding through the crowd to stand beside her father. �One of our number must make for the Walled Cities and attempt to rectify this situation. Only then can we hope to make all of this right.�
�Daughter, what you suggest is positively forbidden. You know that no living being, particularly an Arimythian, is permitted to simply call upon the Proctorage!� exclaimed Alvis, slightly taken aback. His daughter had always been a bit audacious, but what she suggested to them now was nearly suicidal.
�She is right, father,� said Doyle, Alvis�s eldest son. �They will find out soon enough when we cannot deliver their food. I personally would rather that discovery be on our terms, not theirs. If need be I shall go myself!�
�Brother, your responsibility is to your wife and son. Lenna cannot manage without you and Wyllim needs his father. I shall go instead,� said Akorsa. Gasps and whispering could be heard among the crowd of villagers. �I do this of my own accord, friends. I would make the Proctors see this problem, and help them to see the threat that the Maseriff pose upon us.�
�They will not take you seriously, daughter. You are but the offspring of a lowly farmer. You know they have no use for our people other than to provide their meals,� reminded Alvis.
�I am perfectly aware of this, father. But we all know that the Maseriff numbers have been growing more rapidly than we could ever have predicted. I see it day by day when I am out to pasture with the flock!� she exclaimed. �Each new day the threat to them becomes greater and some day we shall not be as lucky as we were today. I ask not for your help, only your blessing, so that I might speak on behalf of our people. If they do not help us now then it will come back and hurt them as well.�
There was more murmuring that was emitted by the crowd when Akorsa finished speaking, but not a soul came forth to speak their mind. The villagers knew that the girl was right, even if the idea she presented was radical. Perhaps her actions would provide for a solution to the growing crisis.
�Then, if any one person be in opposition of this plan, let them speak now,� said Alvis. No one maid a sound. He nodded gravely at this daughter. �Then, two days hence, you shall leave upon the morrow.�
- - - -
Akorsa had returned home shortly after the conclusion of the meeting. She allowed her mother to help her clean her wounds; she cleaned the rest of herself from a barrel of rainwater behind the house as best as she could. After supping and saying some final goodnights to her loved ones, she headed for her cot. Sleep came quickly to the young shepherdess; the safe and warm environment of home lulling her into a land of dreams. The blissful dreamscape was swiftly interrupted by visions of slaughter and spreading flames. Nightmares came frequently to Akorsa, generally after some dreadful encounter with the Maseriff.
Yet, in every one of these dreams she was left helplessly wounded to watch her people be put to death. Waking with a jolt, she found herself sweating and shivering in the darkness. She looked around the room and saw that little Keihl still slept silently. She always knew when he was safe, what he was feeling, or where he was, but after such a vision she could not be entirely sure of what she felt.
Feeling reassured of his safety, she rose from her cot without so much as a sound and left the small room, making for the small kitchen. Much to Akorsa�s surprise, her mother was awake and boiling tea-water over the fireplace.
�I had a feeling that you would be up and about this night,� said Aroha her mother. After all, none can foresee actions better than a mother.
�At least my dreams are becoming predictable, unlike everything else concerning my life,� replied Akorsa, taking a seat by the crackling fire.
�Was this one the least bit different from all the others?� asked the older woman.
�Miska and Shutty were killed this time,� the girl said sadly referring to two of the members of her flock.
Aroha smiled with a sympathetic understanding. �I cannot know how you manage to remember and differentiate between all those sheep of yours, child. They all look alike to my old eyes.�
�When you spend as much time with them as I have, you learn them each by heart. Every name, every personality, and every characteristic of their lives. Much like a mother knows her children, only I have one hundred and fifty-seven of them,� said Akorsa with a small grin.
�Aye, that you do, that you do,� chuckled Aroha, handing her daughter a wooden mug of steaming tea. She sat down on a wooden chair on the opposite side of the stone fireplace. She started at Akorsa with great contemplation before she spoke again. �A great decision was made today.�
�I know it, mother,� replied Akorsa softly. �I also know that you would have me stay here, but something must be done.�
�Oh, I do know that, child. You are far braver than I! When I was your age I feared to do so much as go down by the river to wash clothes!� she admitted, reaching forward and grabbing her daughter�s hands in hers. �My most dreadful fear is that I might never see you again.�
�I shall return here. I know not when or how, but I will come back to you all someday, regardless of what may happen. And when I do return things shall be different!� she said with a great determination and a flash of some unknown thing in the depths of her eyes.
�Akorsa, I beg you, do not allow your hopes to soar so high above the ground. I fear you are headed for a great disappointment,� said the mother. �I do admire your determination, but one Arimythian shepherdess will not change the Proctorage. I would hate to see your dreams dashed upon the rocks!�
�Mother, I do know this, truly I do. Even if the way of things will not be changed, one must try! I would have Keihl and little Wyllim grow up in a world where things are not as they are now. Where they can be safe and be respected by the city-folk. I could not live with myself if they were deprived of that opportunity because no one dared try to obtain it for them,� she said.
Aroha leaned forward and hugged her daughter tightly. She then pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She would miss the girl terribly the whole while she was away. The whole village would miss her, but this sacrifice had to be made. All the villagers knew the necessity of this task, and there was none other strong or brave enough who would step forward to do it. And were her daughter never to return to them, well, Aroha did not care to contemplate such things.
�I will have Fionn care for the flock while I am away. He shall do the job well enough until I return,� said Akorsa, referring to a childhood friend who had done many things to help her in the past.
�You will need to tell the lad that you are leaving, Akorsa. I did not see him at the meeting last night, which means he was probably out and about somewhere. He shall be positively crushed if you left without saying goodbye!�
�Oh, I shall tell him! I would not be able to live with myself if I did not!� she said, stifling a yawn.
�Get you to back to your own bed, child, there are many preparations that need to be made upon the morrow! May your dreams be peaceful,� said Aroha. The girl rose from her chair and started walking back to the small room she shared with Keihl.
