A Bit of String

by Don Webb
Page 4

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Jafel had begun to climb the red mesa when it occurred to him that he had brought no water. Hopefully either Loaj or Cashrel had, or there were springs to be found. By now he was sure that Saraj had got up. So she had bled a little. You couldn't kill a wizard by a simple push. Surely magical beings weren't subject to the laws of accident. He would buy her something fine in Teshub with the loot he would no doubt get. She would be proud of him.

She couldn't be dead.

He should've waited and taken his good shoes. The rocks really hurt his feet through the thin soles of his old shoes. He was thirsty, better not to think about that. Loaj and Cashrel would be waiting for him at the top of the mesa. He would drink and eat cheese and bread. Cashrel was a shepherd, he knew how to pack food for the outdoors. It was harder climbing the mesa than he thought. How did they get the wagon up here when they took the wool to market in the fall?

What about that wool Saraj had thrown on him? There it was, a little ball of fleece. He went to pull it off his breeches, but lost concentration and skidded down the slope. When he rose he saw that the fleece had spread from a nice white ball into a long mess of fibers and gravel across his left leg. Some had even worked its way up to his tunic. He would have to pull it off fiber by fiber before he tried to enlist in an army at Teshub. He would need to wash his clothes and his body as well. It would be better not to mention that he came from one of the villages of the plains. It was like saying that he came from a heap of mud. He would talk to Loaj and Cashrel about that. They must pretend to be sophisticates.

Up. Up. To the top of the mesa.

He couldn't see Loaj or Cashrel. Well of course they had gone on. Why would they wait for him? They would make camp somewhere. Somewhere cool by water and trees. That would be nice. The air was thinner and hotter up here. Harder to breathe. If he could find some shade he'd rest and pull the threads off. He seemed to have somehow spread them just by walking and climbing. He was such a mess. Such a rural fool with fleece on both legs and his tummy. He would need to sell one of the swords to buy new clothes. He couldn't begin his glorious military career looking like a sheep fleecer.

How much money would a sword bring? There were several in the box, or so Loaj had said. Of course he hadn't seen them. But surely she wouldn't lie.

Would she?

Could Loaj and Cashrel be laughing at him back at the blue fountain? They said they had had dreams, but who knew? Maybe it was a joke. Maybe he should go back to the village.

No, he couldn't do that. They would have found Saraj's corpse by now. No, that's not right. She couldn't be dead. No, he would continue on until he found Loaj and Cashrel's tracks.

He needed to get out of the sun. It was so hot with all of this wool hanging from his clothes. He couldn't understand how Saraj had thrown such a huge ball of wool.

He began to walk quickly and then to run. There were no tracks on the stony soil of the mesa's top. Loaj and Cashrel had gone on and abandoned him. They were already in Teshub– already joining the army. He needed to move faster, but it was so hard in this huge mass of wool.

As he ran the shaggy and ever-increasing wool on his legs tripped him. He pitched forward.

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When he woke, he panicked. He couldn't move his arms or legs. He tried to cry out, but found something covering his mouth. His eyes as well.

He struggled against his bonds. He worked till tears came down his eyes and little whimpering sounds from his throat. At last he could move the fingers of his right hand. Then the hand itself, then the arm.

He would get tired and the thin air didn't help. He kept breathing fleece up his nose and the itching was maddening.

He got his other arm free, and then he could really move about. He pushed both hands out. Then he could push off the stony soil and stand.

He eventually got free from his cocoon.

It was night and cool and the two moons shown brilliantly above.

So Saraj had stopped him for a while. Perhaps as long as she had lived. But nothing could stop him now and that gave him a fierce joy. He marched across the mesa.

Near dawn as he had begun descent he spotted three large cocoons. He went to them and tore at the largest. Soon he had revealed Cashrel's face. After he had freed Cashrel's arms, Cashrel was able to free himself while he tore away the wool from Loaj and the box.

Jafel explained that Saraj had managed to ensorcel them, but that he had stopped her spell before it reached its full potential. He did not mention how he had stopped her spell.

Cashrel and Jafel lifted up the box and they descended. The three of them began making plans for their arrival. By the end of the day they knew that they were lost.

Where they had expected to find Teshub was only a rather pitiful farmstead, a small plaster building amidst mounds of earth.

Perhaps Saraj's sorcery had taken away their sense of direction.

They knocked long and loud before an old man came to the door. He was deaf and they had to shout their inquiries.

"Teshub?" said the old man. "There used to be a city called Teshub, but it was destroyed in a war in my grandfather's time. That's Teshub buried there." He pointed at the many mounds around his small home. "Only me here now, no more excitement." The three walked away and pried open the box. It contained only rust. They were several years too late to enlist in the army.

Now there was only peace and desolation.