by David Greer
Chapter 13
Having to constantly duck under low-hanging branches was bad enough but what was really annoying Grimey was being repeatedly whacked in the face by them. Leo and Kane easily maneuvered and ducked away from low-hanging branches but Grimey continued to fall victim the woods' harassment. Of course it didn't help that as Kane led the way he would push branches away as he passed by and let them snap at Grimey.
Eventually Grimey learned to stay low but not before he had a few bruises on his face. Leo, who brought up the rear, enjoyed watching the bearded hunter get whacked by a branch then get upset only to get whacked by another one. Grimey, who prided himself at being a mountain woodsman, refused to voice a complaint.
Kane halted where the pathway narrowed. Grimey leaned to the side to see what was ahead. Several rocks near waist-height were scattered along the winding road. Grimey, whose rump was still tender from the previous day's attack, didn't like the look of it. The surrounding trees and brush were so densely packed that it funneled the travelers onto the pathway. There was no room to go around, and the rocks were so close together, brushing up against one would be inevitable.
“Stand aside. I'll guide us from here.”
Leo smoothly stepped past the two others. He had his bow in one hand and in the other he held an arrow between two fingers. Something was different about him. Leo's eyes had become pure white. Grimey thought he was seeing things but he swore Leo's eyes also radiated. The black marks on Leo's arm and face seemed to be moving as if they had become flowing rivers on his skin.
Leo gazed at the area ahead, raised his bow as he nocked the arrow, and in one fluid motion leveled the bow, drew back on the drawstring, and let his arrow fly. A rock squealed just before it tipped over. Before Grimey had time to marvel at how Leo picked out the stone stool, the islander had already nocked another arrow and shot down another one. The islander fired arrows in rapid succession, much faster than Grimey had ever seen Clyde or Scully fire, and never missed a mark. Leo was definitely an expert with the bow.
In mere moments Leo was done shooting. The pathway didn't look much different from before except half of the rocks had arrows stuck in them. Leo shot every monster and left the real rocks alone. With the threat of ambushing stone stools eliminated, Leo's eyes returned to their usual dark brown as he walked ahead and calmly retrieved his arrows from their remains.
“He picked out the monsters from the rocks!” Grimey said amazed. “How'd he manage that?”
Kane turned around and saw Grimey's mouth hanging open aghast. “He can see them.” Kane said. With that, the muscular islander turned and moved on ahead.
Leo continued to lead the others through narrow pathways of Slothern. Whenever they came across a section littered with what appeared to be rocks, his eyes would radiate white and the ink on his skin would flow. The island hunter didn't miss a single shot with his bow. Grimey couldn't figure out how Leo could see the stone stools apart from regular rocks. The bearded hunter would try to pick out which rocks were actually rocks and which ones were monsters. After a few attempts Grimey realized he was merely guessing and gave up on his little game. Leo clearly was not guessing.
The hunting party reached a clearing devoid of any rocks and possible stone stools and decided to rest. Leo's eyes were back to their normal dark brown and the ink on his skin was still for the rest of the night. The islander breathed deeply and his shoulders slumped. Leo was exhausted. Kane helped his cousin take a seat on a nearby log.
“How'd you do it lad?” Grimey asked the tired hunter, who raised an eyebrow at the question. “You know, spot the monsters and not the rocks.” Leo nodded his understanding.
“I focused.” Leo said between breaths. He took a moment to compose himself before explaining. “What you saw my eyes and tattoos do, that happens when I focus. I can see things more clearly, focus my vision on a single spot. I can see detail from far away as though it were up close. My arm steadies and becomes an extension of my visual intent. I never miss a shot when I focus on a target. I spotted the stone stools by looking for their eyes. Rocks don't have eyes.
“The only drawback is it takes a lot of energy to focus. It's very draining. Right now it feels as though I ran a mad dash through the entire woods. For this reason I only focus when necessary. It's a trait of Southern hunters.”
“Taters? Is that what you called them?” Grimey said indicating the black marks on Leo's arm and face. “What is taters?”
“Tattoo. Taa-too. Not tay-ter.” Leo enunciated for Grimey's benefit. “These tattoos are unique to Southern hunters. They help us tap into our inner strength.”
“Not just decoration huh?” Grimey said.
“Much more. When anybody focuses their attention on something they use more energy, right?” Grimey nodded his understanding. The bearded hunter recalled how taxing it is to focus on the details of the stone works he carved. “That energy is from within. A spiritual energy, if you will. Our tattoos are made from a special ink. It helps us channel and amplify that energy to where it is needed most. The tattoos enhance our natural talents. I'm gifted with a bow. My tattoos focus my vision and steady my arm.” Leo gestured at the tattoo under his right eye and the tattoo on his left arm. “It's actually how Southerners are tested.” Grimey recalled their conversation from the previous night when Leo said Southerners were born into becoming hunters. “When we're infants, every Southerner is given a small tattoo with this ink. If it reacts, that person is a hunter and is trained. We're given the rest of the tattoos later when our talents are realized.”
“Special ink huh?” Grimey said. “Well that's quite a useful trick. How long does it take to recover?”
“Depends how long I focus. Today, a meal and some rest will more than suffice. If I focus longer I may be worn out for a matter of days. Too long and I would collapse and may not wake again.”
Grimey let Leo rest and went to help Kane set up camp for the night. More than once Grimey gave a curious glance to the black markings on the islander's arms but he wouldn't ask what they did. The bearded hunter had a feeling he would find out one day. The two of them laid out Leo's bedroll and got a fire started. Grimey filled a pot with water and put it over the flame. He had packed some smoked meat along with some vegetables he got from McGrady and went to work making a stew. He flavored it with spices as he steadily stirred the pot.
The bearded hunter began to ponder about tattoos and the ability to focus. How could some special ink have that effect? If Leo's tattoos help him see and shoot his bow, what do Kane's tattoos do? Maybe help him aim his spear better? If he had his own tattoos what would they do? Once again questions flooded Grimey's mind and his head began to feel overloaded. He figured it didn't matter much because however the tattoos worked, they worked. Grimey watched Leo focus. He had seen Leo's eyes radiate and the ink flow on his skin. The bearded hunter let the thoughts go and turned his attention back to cooking.
Dinner was ready just as the sun began to set and the sky began to darken. Cold rushed through the woods quickly as night fell and the hot stew was a welcomed comfort. Leo's strength returned to him after a few sips of broth and mouthfuls of meat. He would be ready to clear the path of stone stools the next day if needed. The hunters spent an easy night in Slothern woods.
The road was clear of rocks and camouflaged monsters the next day and travel was easy. The three hunters emerged from the woods by midday. Grimey stood just beyond the treeline and examined the horizon ahead. It was a vast expanse of rolling grasslands which steadily descended into a plain. The air was crisp with a hint of salt in it. The ocean was near. To the right the grassy plain dropped suddenly into a cliff and beyond the edge Grimey saw the vast blue expand endlessly into a haze. It had been a long, long time since the bearded hunter had seen the ocean. The water roared as it collided with sheer rocky cliffs.
The sound rolled with the breezy air into the hunter's ears. The sight of the sea and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock brought back m
emories from long ago. Memories he cared not to think about and the hunter quickly flushed them from his mind. Grimey's eyes followed the edge of the shore until he spotted a town in the distance situated along where the mouth of the Cumberland River flowed into the ocean. He could just make out chimney smoke rising and spotted numerous ships in the surrounding waters. Some ships sailed inland, others sailed away, and more still were docked in a crowded, undoubtedly bustling, harbor. Port Town.
Cobblestone roads spiderwebbed through the bustling town and within moments Grimey was nearly run over by a horse-drawn carriage. The bearded hunter had to jump back to avoid being trampled and had a difficult time recovering his footing on the uneven cobblestones. He stumbled and crashed into several people who were passing by. Luckily they were helpful enough to let Grimey fall hard onto the ground. The hunter rose to his feet, ignored the eyes that were watching him, shook the dust from his beard, and continued along the way with a frown. Crowded towns, the hunter didn't like it.
Leo led the way toward the harbor. The ever-present aroma of salt in the air was joined with fish, sweat, and smoke as they neared the docks. Leo's idea was to find an old-time seaman who may recall stories of when Port was destroyed long ago by surging waters. It seemed simple enough but they found the docks crowded with merchants, traders, and sailors no older than they were. Leo approached a sailor who was unloading crates of exotic, foul smelling spiky fruit, from a small vessel onto the dock.
“Excuse me sir, may I bother you a moment?”
“What is it?” The sailor said in a rushed voice. He didn't once look up at Leo and continued back up to the vessel to retrieve more crates.
“Have you ever heard of any strange happenings in the ocean that once caused the waters to rise so high-”
“It's called tides.” The sailor said cutting off Leo.
“Rise high enough to flood this entire town.”
“Nope. But one thing I might know is that money was never made from answering foolish questions when I have a deadline to meet.”
Leo watched the sailor make his way up the small wooden ramp leading from the dock to the boat and noticed the sailor's muddy footsteps. For the first time, Leo took notice of the man's vessel. It was small with a fresh coat of paint. Cracks lined the hull, the sails were stained, and Leo picked up a subtle scent of mold. The crates containing whatever fruit was being unloaded were splintered and spotted with mildew. This sailor would be of no help. No true waterman would let his ship become so dilapidated. Leo turned to move on.
“You won't find any answers from these sailors, my friend” A rough voice called out. Leo, Grimey, and Kane turned to see an aged man sitting on a barrel at the edge of the dock. Behind him a skiff was tied to the dock. The man's skin was darkened and salted from years spent on the ocean. His hair was silver, thin, and dangled in unkempt strands past his shoulders. “These young sailors, all merchants trying to make a profit. Look at them. Hurrying around to sell whatever they've scrounged from lands abroad. They don't know the ways of the ocean, they barely even know how to maintain their boats. But you sir, and your companion here.” The elderly man gestured at Kane, “You are men of the sea, I can tell.”
“Who are you?” Leo asked.
“My name is Santiago. I have fished these waters all my life, my father fished them before me, my grandfather before him, and so it goes.”
“Do you know of any stories about Port being destroyed by a flood?” Leo asked.
“Oh yes, I've heard the tales from my grandfather. His father was there and lived it.” The fisherman said.
Santiago closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. He took a deep breath. When he let it out his eyes opened and they were distant as he gazed into the past.
“The waters rose high and sudden. A great roar reverberated all around. A foul stench of rotted fish stained the air. Many ran. Many screamed. Many froze in confused terror. And the wiser climbed. Those on the ground perished. On the rooftops we were untouched.”
Grimey shifted unsure of what he was listening too. He noticed, however, that Leo and Kane were intently focused on the old man's words. Santiago was just getting started.
“The birds circled overhead. Somewhere a child cried. Off in the distance an echo of agony.” Santiago's eyes were unblinking and his head tilted to the side. “The pain danced on our tongues. A slug basked in the torment...”
Grimey rolled his eyes. What was the old kook talking about? Perhaps Santiago had sat out in the sun for too long. Regardless, the bearded hunter had heard enough and didn't want to stand around any longer. Sweat was building under his beard and it annoyed him. He silently moved away leaving Leo and Kane to hear Santiago's tale.
“The waters stayed fragile for several days. Fish hid. Currents, once steady, now shivered.” Santiago paused for a moment to take a breath. Clarity appeared to return to his eyes once again and he looked directly at Leo and spoke clearly, “The flood washed through Port. Much of the town was destroyed and drowned when the waters receded. But while on the rooftops we could glimpse it. In the ocean not too far out there was a massive beast with penetrating green eyes. The Kraken! It sent the water surging at us and watched our demise. Afterward it simply left.”
Away from the docks on the sandy beach Grimey strolled along letting the ocean breeze cool off his beard. He was careful not to get close to the water because he didn't want to get his boots wet. Or his beard for that matter. Then something caught his attention. On the sand a small black worm-like creature wriggled around. There were two small slits where its eyes narrowly opened and it had a small mouth that contained tiny jagged teeth. It squirmed and struggled its way over the sand toward the water. Grimey watched it with a frown and spotted a rock nearby. His frown became a grin.
“The Kraken caused the flood.” Leo said, a mild hint of amazement in his voice. “Surely amazing but it doesn't shed much light on what happened to Northern Isle.” He and Kane had left Santiago on the dock moments ago and walked along the beach. Both knew that the Kraken didn't bother with the western waters which Southern and Northern Islands occupied. The massive Kraken stayed in the deeper waters of the southern ocean.
They looked ahead and spotted Grimey on the beach repeatedly throwing a rock into the surf. Water splashed high into the air and the bearded hunter chuckled and picked up the rock only to throw it back down again for another laugh.
“What do you suppose he's doing?” Leo asked Kane.
“Playing.” Kane said unsure.
Leo approached Grimey slowly. The islander thought that perhaps this was the first time Grimey had seen the ocean and the splashing water fascinated him. Or perhaps the sun baked his beard a little too much.
“What are you doing Grimey?” Leo asked.
“This little monster wants to get to the water. And I'm not going to let it.” Grimey threw the rock with a splash. Leo noticed a small black worm-like creature struggling in the chaotic waves caused by Grimey's rock. The small thing was pushed back on shore and instantly began wriggling its way back into the water. Leo recognized the small creature instantly.
“That's an eel spawn.”
“A what?” Grimey said as he picked up the rock for another throw.
“An eel spawn.” Leo repeated. “It grows into a giant eel, one of the monsters of the sea. This one must have just spawned moments ago. They are born on the sand and must make it to the water to survive. They spawn on Southern also. We try to kill as many of them as we can before they reach the water.”
Grimey didn't appear to be listening. He was too focused on tormenting the tiny eel. The small creature would make its way to the water and just before it was able to swim away the rock would land in front of it with enough force to splash the eel back onto the sand. Leo watched this intently. The islander's head tilted and his brow furrowed. Splash! And another small wave kept the eel from swimming away. Splash! Grimey chuckled to himself some more. Splash!
Then it clicked.
&nbs
p; “That's it.” Leo said to himself. “I know what happened to Northern!”
-** --*
