by J. S. Morin
“And can understand every word you’re saying,” Mort added, speaking in Jiara. This had the effect of splashing cold water on the group. They flinched back and looked at him in shock.
“You speak our language?” one asked. He had a dim look, even if Mort wasn’t generally one to judge intra-species facial expressions.
“No, you gigantic floor mop,” Mort replied. “I’m just speaking random words and got lucky.”
“What did you call me?” the floor mop demanded.
Mort held up a placating hand. “Perhaps the comparison was out of line. But you’re a horse’s ass for talking about me like you just were. I’m here to keep this contest on the straight and narrow. No funny business. No sticking our noses in. Just let the chips fall where they may.”
“I think he was telling the truth about guessing,” one of the smaller azrin said. “Those are all words, but they make no sense.”
Mort seethed out a long breath. Idioms might as well have been riddles. “Idiots, I am here to make certain the contest is fair.” He spoke slowly, as if they were new at understanding their own language.
“Wasting your time, then,” an orange-furred Yrris said. “No fair contest between Mriy’s pathetic pack and Hrykii’s hunters.”
“Ignoring that,” Mort said. “I want no interference. We drop this beast off, then go back and wait for them to bring it.”
“We didn’t bring human food.”
“Shit,” Mort muttered, remembering to use English. He had no reason to insult their food, though in truth the whole planet’s cuisine could use a good insult or two. A whole species had managed to have an industrial revolution without inventing baking, sausage, or soup. Spices had been introduced by human conquerors. “I don’t suppose you lot can order take-out wherever we are?”
# # #
Roddy vaulted over the armrest and into the copilot’s chair. “What’s the plan, Captain?”
Carl smirked. It wasn’t often that Roddy got all naval with titles. “Haven’t decided yet. Plan on enjoying a little flying though, while I’ve got the ship to myself—present company excepted, of course. Meyang’s not really my cup of tea.”
“Yeah,” Roddy agreed. He slouched down in the seat and reached for the console with one of his feet. He turned the volume on the sound system down to a whisper. “Listen, I got a thing.”
“A thing?”
“You know, an idea,” Roddy replied. “For you.”
“Just spit it out.” Carl started to wonder what sort of plans Roddy was hinting at.
“You know that sword? The magic one we all keep telling you you’re going to kill yourself with?” Roddy asked.
Of course, Carl knew it. It had set him back 4,000 credits and had seemed like a bargain at the time. It was sharp enough to slice steel like a ripe tomato and weighed next to nothing. “What about it?”
Roddy tossed Carl a datapad. “They’ve got this guy, a local. Real whiz with weapons. Ancient azrin techniques and all that shit. He’s the only one teaching these secrets to off-worlders.”
Carl glanced over the advert for Master Yuuwai Viyaa. It was flashy and slick, the sort of thing that Martian ad agencies cranked out for borderlands companies, where the locals weren’t as sophisticated as back in Sol. “Sounds like a scam.” People of every race and species had been pulling stunts like that for as long as explorers had been discovering new lands. Some rich bastards plunked themselves down on your land, and if you couldn’t fight them off, you soaked them for every terra they had.
“You’re signed up starting tomorrow, dawn local time,” Roddy said.
“What?” Carl scowled at the laaku mechanic, searching that simian face for any sign that he was joking. But if there was one thing Roddy was awful at, it was keeping a straight face while making a joke. With his dead calm, he could have been at a funeral.
“My dime,” Roddy replied. “You don’t like it, bail after the first day. But it’s on a tropical island, and you might come back a badass swordsman. So you might think twice before spending however-the-fuck long that hunt goes joyriding.”
“What’s the catch?” Carl asked. “You’ve got an angle.”
“I’m lazy,” Roddy admitted. “You with a few days behind the yoke on this baby, I might never be done putting it right. I’d be overhauling every maneuvering thruster, replacing coolant lines, and patching up stress cracks in the hull for months. It’s worth a few hundred terras out of my own pocket to ground you.”
“I could say ‘no,’” Carl suggested, probing for a reaction.
“Badass. Swordsman. Tropical. Island. The Earth name for the island is Fiji, by the way.”
“Fucker,” Carl muttered. “What time is it there now?”
Roddy took back his datapad and checked the built-in chrono. “4:33 AM. You’re gonna want to get a move on.”
# # #
“Get a move on,” Tanny shouted.
Esper had lagged behind the rest of the pack, and Tanny had slowed to stay behind her. Her knapsack was heavier than it had been earlier in the day, despite containing one less meal and a liter or so less water. The snow was harder to force her feet through, even though it wasn’t as deep.
“I’m trying,” she replied, not caring whether Tanny could hear. Esper couldn’t spare enough breath to shout back. Dusk had come and gone, and a clear sky with a bright half moon was the only reason they could see ahead.
The stars poked out through the darkened atmosphere, taunting. You could fly if you were on a ship, they whispered down to her. You’ve barely gone twenty kilometers. Esper knew she was imagining it, that it was her own voice she was hearing. That didn’t make her any less cross with the stars.
Tanny’s steps drew closer, their pace quicker. A hand reached out and unclasped the buckle that secured Esper’s knapsack around her waist. “Hey, what—”
“No time for this,” Tanny muttered as she slipped the knapsack off Esper’s back and slung it over her shoulder. It was an awkward fit with Tanny’s already in place, but the ex-marine managed. “Hrykii’s pack is probably five klicks ahead of us by now.”
“Sorry.”
Tanny shook her head. “It’s not just you. Auzuma’s not doing much better. We’re going to have to stop soon for camp, even if we lose ground in the night.”
“You think they’ll push through?” Esper asked.
“No idea. But I bet they could if they wanted to. Look at Mriy. She’d be good to go all night. Kubu, too.” The canine’s energy was inexhaustible out in the cold. He puffed and panted, breath fogging the air like an old-timey steam locomotive. But he kept going without complaint. In fact, it was the happiest she’d seen him.
If nothing else, the scenery was spectacular. When Esper wasn’t watching where her feet were landing, trying to follow the trodden snow where Mriy and Auzuma had passed, the mountains loomed majestically around them. She had to look away and ignore them for a while for them to ever appear any larger. Watching them the whole while, they never seemed to grow or come any closer.
Night had settled in fully by the time Mriy agreed to call a halt. The pack had been following a creek for the last few hours and settled into a bend where it wound around one of the foothills. Their campsite had them sheltered from the direction of the wind. Esper had lost track of the compass direction when the sun had finished setting, so she didn’t know quite which way that was. But it was welcome having some protection from air that cut through the gaps between her hat and scarf to rob her body of heat.
“Auzuma, Esper, set up camp,” Mriy said, dropping her load of supplies in the snow. “Tanny, Kubu, let’s patrol the area to make sure we’re alone out here.” There was an unfamiliar hardness in her words. Mriy hadn’t done much commanding on the Mobius. Carl was in charge—to a degree. Tanny did most of their tactical work on the ground. Everyone listened to Mort. Roddy obeyed orders when he chose. Mriy mostly went along, at least as long as Esper had known her. If she ever expressed a preference, it was for expedi
ency, not for getting a job done right.
The old azrin stepped beside her and they watched side by side as the patrol departed over their sheltering hill. “Have you set up a camp before?” Auzuma asked.
“No,” Esper admitted.
“You don’t belong out here, do you?”
“No.”
“Then I give my deepest thanks,” Auzuma said. Esper gave him a furrowed glare. If the azrin could read human expressions at all, hers was likely lost under thick-bundled outerwear. “It’s an easy thing to help someone when you know how. It is the act of a friend to help when the helping is a burden.”
“She didn’t want me along,” Esper said, hanging her head. “She didn’t have many options.”
“You came for the same reason I did,” Auzuma said. He put a hand on her shoulder, heavy even through three layers of fabric. “You have compassion. It is a trait that runs thick in God’s servants.”
Esper looked up. “She told you?” The azrin nodded. “I’m not anymore, you know. I ran. If I was any sort of priestess, I’d have gone back and faced the music.”
“Music?” Auzuma echoed. He waved aside his own puzzlement as if it was of no consequence. “You left a church. I can tell you haven’t left His service.”
“You sound more sure of that than I am,” Esper replied.
“I must be a better judge of character, then,” he said. “I’m no fool. Mriy doesn’t deserve our help in this. She was wrong to make her challenge. Hrykii is a fool, too, but he is young and less set in his ways. It is Seerii that Mriy disrespects by this quest for the title of heir.”
“Then why did you come?” Esper asked. “I felt pity for Mriy and figured if I didn’t help her, no one would. She didn’t want me. She might even have been better off without me.”
“God’s word reached your world, same as it did mine,” Auzuma said. “So I know you understand redemption. Mriy is not worthy to win, but by the end of this challenge, perhaps she will be. Now, let’s get started putting a camp together.”
# # #
Cold wind cleared the head. Seerii had taught her that. Mriy had a lot of time on the hike for thinking, but not much for discussing strategy for the hunt. There was little need for a patrol. That might have been a sensible precaution if Hrykii’s pack was within an hour’s hike of them, but Mriy couldn’t imagine that to be the case.
“We need to talk,” Mriy said, letting Tanny draw close. The human had kept up well. She hadn’t sagged under the pace or the burden of taking on Esper’s gear. She was a boon to the pack.
“I figured as much,” Tanny replied. “We’re up shit’s creek, aren’t we?”
“The creek’s name escapes me,” Mriy replied, glancing in the direction of the rushing water, even though the terrain hid it from direct view.
“No, I mean we’re not winning this,” Tanny clarified. “Those two are slowing us down. Your nephew’s going to have the prey back to your mother before we get halfway to them.”
Mriy stretched and flexed her back, looking up into the night sky. “Normally the slow pack sets an ambush to steal the prey. I’m worth two of them, and you might hold your own, but that won’t be enough.”
“You’re allowed to fight each other on the hunt?” Tanny asked.
“Of course,” Mriy replied. “You heard my mother set out the rules. She said nothing about our conduct. The mountains are vast and quiet. We won’t kill them, but leaving them maimed and taking the prey is a valid tactic.”
“Might have mentioned that before we signed up.”
“You would have come anyway,” Mriy replied. Tanny didn’t shy from fights. Mriy knew she secretly relished combat, which humans found unbecoming.
“Maybe, but not Esper.”
“No,” Mriy agreed. “And I think it is time to fix my mistakes.”
“Send her back? After a full day out here? She’s going to be pissed.”
“Her and Auzuma. Neither belongs. We are too slow to race Hrykii’s pack and too weak to fight them.”
Kubu made a curious noise, a whine that rose in pitch. Nothing came in translation, so it was not meant to be any sort of word. He cocked his head and sniffed the air. Mriy sniffed along by reflex, but picked up no scent on the wind.
“Kubu is hungry,” Kubu said, using a quiet voice she had rarely heard him employ. He bounded off into the low brush, little more than a thicket of spindly twigs devoid of leaves. He disappeared from sight.
“Kubu!” Tanny shouted, starting off after him. “Kubu, get back here!”
Mriy followed Tanny, but knew that neither of them was going to catch Kubu unless he stopped or doubled back. Azrins were faster than humans in short bursts, but not by nearly the margin that Kubu exhibited. A snarl sounded from the darkness, followed by barking and a ferocious growl. Tanny quickened her pace, rushing headlong and drawing a hunting knife in stride as she ran.
A pained shriek split the night air, followed by more growling. When they caught sight of Kubu, he had a lynx by the neck; the creature dangled limp from either side of his jowls. He shook it like a chew toy, then dropped it in the snow. Wasting no time, he tore into the kill and ripping open the lynx’s belly. The carcass steamed in the moonlight.
Mriy had killed with her bare hands before. She had torn out a deer’s throat and tasted the warm blood. She had even eaten a hot kill in the wild once or twice, despite the mess and having to eat around the hide and unsavory organs, not to mention bones. But she had never seen a hunter eat like Kubu. His meal started like a wolf’s feast, with the easy, the juicy, the nutritious. But he didn’t stop there. He didn’t strip flesh from bone, didn’t tear away the skin and fur. He bit through limb and torso alike, crunching great mouthfuls of anything he could fit between his jaws—which for the lynx, happened to be everything.
It took two minutes, perhaps as long as three. Mriy spared no attention from the spectacle to check a chrono. The lynx was gone. Kubu even gobbled up several mouthfuls of snow that had been spattered with blood, and a few more that hadn’t, just for the water.
“How much do you think that thing weighed?” Tanny asked quietly.
Mriy did some quick figuring in human units. “Eight or ten kilos. It wasn’t a big one.”
Kubu ambled over to them, tongue working around the edges of his muzzle to clean the mess from his face. “Kubu not so hungry now.”
Mriy remembered a time, not so long ago at all, when she’d had to wrestle Kubu to the ground. He had gotten into Tanny’s chemical supplements, the ones that humans gave to their soldiers to make them strong, fast, and aggressive. She had overwhelmed him with leverage and technique. But she remembered the strength, the corded, sinewy muscle like iron, just below his fur. He was growing by the day. Even now, could she have managed the same feat?
“You sure we can’t fight them?” Tanny asked.
“Even if we could, I’m not certain we should,” Mriy replied. “I don’t see a middle ground between defeat and a distasteful meal. But we’re keeping Kubu with us. Lose Esper and Auzuma, and we become the faster pack.”
# # #
By the time the patrol returned, Esper and Auzuma had erected the tents and gathered firewood. The two azrin tents were little more than large, droopy umbrellas with the lone occupant meant to curl around the pole and pull it down until the dome touched ground. Esper and Tanny were to share a traditional human-style camping tent that might have fit Kubu as well. Fortunately, the canine had happily dug himself a hole in the snow and curled up outside.
Esper had chopped some small branches into firewood with a carbon-bladed hatchet and was trying to get the green wood to catch fire. “This is stupid,” she muttered. “Why can’t we just have a little fire-starter laser? It’s not like we could hunt anything with it.” She struck the rock against the steel blade of her hunting knife and watched the sparks die on the bark of her branches.
It was Mort’s idea for her to come out here. Get away from technology, he’d said. She was supposed to be p
racticing, learning to control her magic. Learning not to kill people, was more like it. Esper had insisted everyone go through a medical scan before the hunt, to make sure they wouldn’t grow anything malignant if she had to use her one reliable spell on them. Speeding the body’s natural healing seemed so innocuous—until you considered that cancer was going to thrive as well. What could she do wrong trying a little fire? The possibilities seemed exponentially greater.
Still, it was deathly cold with deeper temperatures to come before morning. “You are on fire,” she whispered to the twigs. Nothing happened. “Fire.” Nothing happened. She tried to picture the twigs aflame. “Fire.” Nothing happened. “Ignis.” She thought for a moment that the switch to Latin had done it. But the wisp of smoke had been her imagination. She tried to recall the word Mort had taught her, one of a handful he’d made her memorize before embarking on the hunt.
Remembering another bit of Mort’s advice, she stopped trying to remember the word and just spoke it. It lacked form and shape on her lips. She could not have written it down or explained how to pronounce it. Mort had spoken it to her, and it had wormed its way into her head. But the language of angels and demons combined with her imaging of burning twigs turned that wish real. She leapt back, falling onto her backside and hands in the snow as the campfire caught.
“Nice work,” Tanny said. “I was never much at starting fires. Glad you figured it out. Find a tutorial on the omni or something?”
“Or something,” Esper muttered. From the corner of her eye, she caught Auzuma watching her with interest. Was he smiling?
They ate a quiet meal, all except for Kubu, who slept. They talked about the day’s hike and where Hrykii’s pack might have ventured. Mriy mentioned the hardships that lay ahead, and Tanny talked about how much ground they were going to have to make up. By the time everyone settled into their tents, Esper had grown suspicious.
Curled up in a sleeping bag, just a few centimeters from Tanny, there was no room for secrets. “You two don’t want me here,” she said.
Tanny faced away from Esper, not bothering to roll over to address her. “What Mriy and I said was true. How you take it is up to you.”
