Alisiyad Chapter 6 ~ Alisiyans

“Russ!”  Liseli exclaimed.  He jumped a little, startled.

“It’s that kid!  Do you see him now?”  She waved her hand toward the opposite bank.

Russ got up.  He nodded, but asked, “Are you sure it’s the exact same one?”

“Definitely; I wouldn’t forget that stare.”

“Don’t scare him away,” Russ lowered his voice.

“He doesn’t look scared,” said Liseli in the same low whisper, “and he wasn’t scared before . . . .  You try saying hello this time.”

“Maybe I should just wave.  That’s less threatening, right?”

“I don’t know . . . try it.”

Russ plastered a wide smile on his face and waved slowly, from the elbow up.

“Wave like a real person, not like you’re in a parade float,” Liseli hissed.

“This is real,” he said through his teeth.

Liseli shook her head.  “No, it’s cheesy . . . and I don’t think he likes it . . . .”

The child’s gaze did not waver as they spoke.  But after a moment he turned around and climbed toward the rise of the hill, threatening to disappear over the other side at any moment.  Liseli reached out and grabbed Russ’s arm, pulling it down.  “Do something!” she hissed.

“What?  Do what?  What am I supposed to do?”  Russ tensed as he turned to look at her.

“I don’t know, talk to him!”

“You—”

“He won’t listen to me.”  Liseli tried to push Russ back around to face the river.  She looked up and stopped, gripping his arm in frustration.  The child was gone.  Completely gone.  It was too late.

“He’s gone.”  Russ looked at his feet.

Liseli let go of his sleeve.  “I can see that,” she said, giving him a little shove as she dropped his arm.  “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” Russ mumbled, hugging himself across the chest with one arm.  Liseli stood awkwardly at his side without saying anything for a moment.  She squinted at the opposite bank of the river.

“Well, this sucks,” she broke the silence, trying to sound mildly ticked off instead of on the verge of panicking.  She thought she did a pretty good job.

“Yeah.  Sorry,” Russ repeated, still not looking at her as he shrugged one shoulder.

She rolled her eyes.  “It’s not your fault, I just . . . this isn’t good, we can’t . . . .”  Liseli waved her hand toward the river, then she took a deep breath and pressed her palm to her forehead.  “I don’t know what to do.”

Russ dropped his arm and turned toward her.  “It’ll be alright,” he mustered a smile.

“Yeah, right, if you like being lost.”  Liseli tried to laugh.  It came out shaky. She crossed her arms over her stomach.  A breeze blew along the riverbank and lifted some loose strands of hair into her face, but she didn’t move, keeping her hands balled up into fists in the crooks of her elbows.

“Hey . . . it will be.”  Russ stepped forward and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her toward his chest.  Liseli didn’t uncross her arms as he tried to give her a reassuring squeeze.  Her face pressed into his shirt.  He still smelled like French fries . . . French fries and body odor.

“I can’t breathe,” she mumbled.  Russ loosened his grip, and she backed up.

“I . . . ” he began, but then something over her shoulder caught his attention.  “Hey; there’s someone behind you.”

“What?”  She glanced back, seeing no one.

“Look—” Russ nodded “—over there in the bushes.”

Liseli turned around and looked at a clump of bushes growing along the river to the south.  “I don’t see—”

“Something moved, looked like a person,” Russ insisted.  “Come on, let’s go see.”

“What if it’s an animal?”  Liseli eyed the round green leaves fluttering in the breeze.

“Then we’ll kill it and eat it.”  Russ sounded cheerful, tapping the top of her head as he walked by.

“Don’t do that.”  She touched the spot on her head.

“Sorry.”  He paused and looked back.  “You coming?”

“No, you kill it, I’ll watch and eat,” Liseli replied in what she thought was a testy voice, but his smile widened.

“’K.  Breakfast, coming up.”

Liseli watched him approach the bush.  She winced as he reached out to part some of the branches without hardly even looking beforehand.

“Oh, hey there,” Russ said, speaking to something she couldn’t see, in a tone of voice she usually reserved for kittens.

“What is it?”

Russ looked back at her.  “It’s a girl.”

Liseli trotted over to the bush and looked in.  A small girl, maybe about four or five years old, crouched near the base of the bush.  She peered up at Russ and Liseli with large brown eyes, then shielded her face.  She had a long braid hanging over her shoulder, and wore a simple homespun dress and shawl with worn leather boots.  Strangely old-fashioned, Liseli thought.

“Hi!”  Liseli bent over and smiled.  “Who are you?”

The little girl curled up into a tighter ball and said nothing.

“It’s okay, we won’t hurt you.”  Liseli reached out a hand tentatively.  “What are you doing in the bushes?”  She touched the girl’s shoulder very lightly, and the girl peeked out at her.

“I’m hiding,” she finally responded, relaxing a little.  Russ moved the branches and she flinched away.  He froze, smiling innocently.

“Oh.  Who are you hiding from?” Liseli continued, in her best Smiley Meal voice.

“Oan.”

“Who’s Oan?  And why are you hiding from him?” Liseli glanced around, but saw no one in the area.

“My brother.  It’s a game.”  The girl uncurled and studied Liseli, only flitting her eyes to Russ for a second before ducking her head again.

“Hide-and-seek,” Russ told Liseli helpfully.  She gave him a silent no duh look and turned back to the girl.

“Well, I’m Liseli.”  Liseli pointed to herself, then poked Russ in the chest; “and this big scary oaf is Russ, but he’s really harmless, despite appearances.”

“Gee thanks.”

“What’s your name?”

The girl hesitated, then said, “Ivira.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name.  Isn’t it, Russ?”

“Uh-huh.”  Russ nodded.  “And there’s a really sharp twig poking into my wrist.”

Liseli laughed, airily, and said, “Isn’t he such a dork?  Why don’t you come out of there?”

“Oan will find me.”

“But we’ve already found you, so we’ve won and you have to come out.”  Liseli beckoned.  “We beat Oan.  C’mon.”

Ivira looked skeptical, but she crawled, and Russ dropped the branches.  The little girl stood, casting appraising glances up and down Liseli and Russ.  “You’re dressed very funny,” she observed.  “Where are you from?”

“Fayette,” Liseli replied, crouching down.  Ivira looked blank.

“Wisconsin,” Russ supplied.  “America.”

“Have you heard of any of those places?” Liseli asked hopefully.

Ivira stared at her with a frown for a moment.  “Are they near Varaneshe?”

“No . . . .”

Ivira shrugged, and shook her head.

“Bummer.”  Liseli rocked back and sat down.  The tall grass tickled her bare arms.  “We’re kind of lost, actually.  I was hoping you could tell us where we are.”

“Alisiya,” Ivira answered readily.  Then her eyes widened.  “Are you otherworlders?”

Liseli hesitated.  “I don’t—”

“Sure,” Russ said, shrugging.  He lowered himself next to Liseli and sat cross-legged.  “That works.”

Ivira gaped at them.

“Hey, listen,” Liseli said, “where do you live?  Can we meet your parents?”  She cocked her head to the side and tried to smile as encouragingly as possible.  She noticed Russ watching her with an amused smirk, but at the moment cajoling Ivira was more important.

“No,” Ivira looked away as she toyed with the end of her braid.  “They’re dead.  I live with Grandfather and Granamae.”

“I’m sorry.  Can we meet them?”

“I suppose so.”

At that moment they heard a voice cry out, “There they are!  See?”  They looked to the south, and saw three people walking toward them on the road — a boy and two men.  The boy was pointing at them.

“Your brother?” Liseli guessed.

Ivira nodded.  “You found me first, you beat him, right?”

“Yeah.  Who’s with him?”

“Grandfather and Currun.”  Ivira made a face as she said the last name.

As they came nearer, one of the men reached out and pulled the boy back by the shoulder.  Liseli couldn’t tell which one was Grandfather and which one was Currun — they both looked rather young from her distance.  The one who had rein of Oan appeared somewhat older, in his thirties, perhaps, while the other looked closer to hers and Russ’s age.  So she guessed that the first one was the grandfather.  He wore a jacket, shirt and pants of dark green and earthen tones, but the younger one had a faded black, silver-trimmed vest over a blue shirt.  Both wore calf-length leather boots.  Their hair was dark and cut short.

“Ivira!  Come here, right now!” the younger man called out, in a voice that left no room for argument.  He stalked forward with his hands open at his sides; everything about him looked tense and ready for a confrontation.

Ivira hesitated, looking at Liseli, but the man repeated her name.  “Who is he?” Liseli asked in a low voice.

“He’s Grandfather’s brother, and he’s an old grouch.”  Ivira repeated her little grimace.

“You should probably obey him,” Russ suggested.  “He looks kind of pissed.”

On the third stern repetition of her name, Ivira turned and scampered toward Currun.  He picked her up and said some things that Liseli couldn’t make out, but which sounded like a scolding.

“Let me do the talking,” Liseli said.  Russ was silent, and she looked at him sharply.  “Okay?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“Are you gonna let me do the talking?”  She glanced back at the rapidly approaching men.

“Whatever.  I’m your dumb mute slave-boy for all they know.”

“Tch.”  Liseli shook her head, then turned her full attention to the natives. Currun was still holding Ivira, and Oan had dropped back to walk next to him. As they came closer she noticed that both men had medium length daggers hanging from their belts, sheathed in holsters with a strange silver design curving around them.  Oh.  Weapons.  She swallowed nervously despite herself.  She darted her eyes toward Russ, and he took his hands out of his pockets, stepping closer to her.