Hunters - Rising

by David Greer

  Chapter 25

  “Get up lad. Time to move.”

  Leo made an effort to open his eyes and slowly blinked himself awake. It felt like only minutes had passed since he fell asleep. His back ached from lying on the hard ground and it took several moments for the haze of sleep to dissipate. The islander sat up and checked his leg. He unwrapped the bandages and was in disbelief at what he saw.

  “It looks good.” Kane said. He was sitting nearby chewing on some dried meat. The previous night Leo's leg was a heap of shredded flesh oozing with blood. This morning it was decorated with red dots and streaks where lurker teeth had pierced and peeled the skin but the wounds were healed.

  “That balm is good stuff isn't it.” Grimey said. “I bet those won't even scar. Well, maybe that long one. Good though! You'll have a real one to go along with the fake ones. So come on, get up!”

  Leo nodded with a smile as he remembered how Grimey had referred to his tattoos as fake scars. He stood slowly and tested his leg. It was sore but supported his weight. One slow step followed by another. He flexed and bent it. Then he took a few more steps and walked around the campsite. Sore but manageable. All and all it was fine. He could travel. There was just one more test he needed to do.

  Near the campsite, along the opposite canyon wall, was the remains of a single tree. It had long been dead and decayed. Dried up branches and sticks littered the surrounding dirt and only a bare trunk protruded about three meters from the ground. Leo stood ten meters away, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, longbow in hand. He reached back, took an arrow between two fingers and nocked it onto the bowstring. With a deep breath Leo pulled the string back to full draw. He sighted past the arrow and locked onto the center of the tree trunk. He let the string slide away from his fingers and sent the arrow along its way. It plunged dead-center into the trunk. Four more arrows were loosed in rapid succession. Five arrows formed a small ring in the center of the trunk. Leo was satisfied. The aching leg didn't disrupt his aim. He could walk and he could hunt. It was indeed time to move.

  “Nice shooting.” Grimey said. He had been watching a little ways away. “This place bothers me. Surrounded by red sandstone. Just makes the whole place feel hot and angry. Even worse is the only sign of life out here is that dead tree.”

  The man has a point, Leo thought. “Welcome to the Northern Wastes.”

  Leo felt Grimey's anxiety all too well. They had ventured into an undiscovered region of the map. All that's known about it is what sailors were able to observe when sailing along the coast, which resulted in rough sketches of coastal mountain ranges and stories of a red mountain spotted in the distance, which somebody named Iyre Mountain. Other than that, there were no records of the Northern Wastes to refer to. No clue of the landscape or of what kind of monsters may be lurking. All of them were completely out of their element but the islander wouldn't show it. He would maintain a brave front. Orion wouldn't quiver in fear at the foot of a legendary beast and so Leo wouldn't get spooked at some unknown land.

  The hunters moved through the canyon, which had funneled into a narrow ravine forcing the hunters to walk single-file with Leo taking point, followed by Kane, and Grimey taking up the rear. Their pathway was filled with sharp turns and twists. It made Grimey uneasy because the rock walls were high enough to block out the sun's position in the sky. He couldn't observe the direction of shadows it would cast on the ground because the high sandstone walls left everything in shadow. The bearded hunter quickly lost his bearings and felt as though they were traveling in circles. Then there was the air. It was still, dry, and hot, which added to Grimey's unease. Why was it hot? First of all, they were in shade. Second, that far north the air should be cold. Everything about the environment bothered the bearded hunter and he kept a hand on a hatchet at all times.

  “You really expect something to be out here? Can't see anything living in this place.” Grimey asked.

  “Seems logical.” Leo said.

  “How you figure?”

  “Back home when I want to be left alone for a moment I walk into the dense jungle or climb onto a jagged rock. Nobody's there because it's uncomfortable. If I were a beast and wanted to lay in wait year after year, century after century, this is where I'd be.”

  “Hmph. Just because it's logical doesn't mean it makes sense.” Grimey said. Leo's brow furrowed in confusion. “How would it survive? Even monsters need to eat. Bet there's nothing up here. Nothing but dirty rocks.”

  “I doubt you mean that.” Leo replied. Now it was Grimey's turn to furrow his brow. “If you did, why are you even here?”

  Grimey's beard wrinkled at Leo's words. Leo was right of course but Grimey wasn't about to admit it. Now that he was there, Grimey did sense that something was in the Northern Wastes. Something had been drawing the hunter there. He hadn't told anybody about his dreams and how much they haunted his mind and he didn't intend to. The red eye that seemed to always show up, the voice that reverberated in his entire being, the burning heat. Those images and sensations weren't conjured by his mind but invaded it through some outside force. Grimey was sure of that and took it as a warning and a challenge. And he felt that whatever had infiltrated his dreams was somehow connected to what Leo believed they would find at Iyre Mountain.

  The hunters cautiously made their way through the ravine. How much longer there was left to go nobody knew. Leo's knowledge of the region ended when they entered Tunnel of Lights. They could be lost in that rocky labyrinth for hours or days or longer. At least there was only one pathway to follow and there was no chance of getting lost. It was just a matter of how long it would take to reach the end. That was the one comfort Leo took after navigating through the ravine all morning. But his comfort didn't last much longer because the trio came to a fork.

  “Right or left lads because I haven't a clue where we are.” Grimey said. It was true. Were they facing north, west, or any other direction? None of them knew. The hunters stood there contemplating their choice. Down the left path was dirt and sandstone. Down the right path was dirt and sandstone. Leo couldn't make up his mind and Kane offered no advice. Grimey wasn't in the mood to linger. “I'll go right. You two go left.” Before Leo could protest Grimey had drawn a hatchet and taken off to the right. Kane shrugged and nodded toward the left path.

  Rock and dirt. That was all Grimey saw. Around every corner, every twist, and every turn. Rock and dirt. An eerie silence rang in the air. No wind or breeze came through the ravine. Grimey stopped, careful to keep perfectly still, and listened. Nothing. He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to focus his hearing. There had to be something out there stirring. A stray breeze, a rodent, an insect, something. But there was nothing. Even above the ravine the air wasn't moving. Never had he experienced such lack. No forms of life, no movement. It was as though nature had decided to skip this part of the world.

  What the heck am I doing here? Grimey had the thought more than once during the journey but at this moment it was more pronounced than ever before. Wandering all alone in some god forsaken crack in the rock with no clue of when or how he would get out. Not quite what the hunter had in mind for an adventure. To make matters worse his beard was beginning to sweat. And why is it so damn hot?

  Back home in Quarry the bearded hunter would have the perfect remedy for a hot day. Ice cold ale from a keg poured frothy in a mug. That sweet amber ambrosia cured any ailment and made the laughs come easier. It helped to ease soreness brought on by long hours working in the rock quarry. He missed that white mountain. There the air was cool and the rock friendly. Granite and marble that chipped away just right. It could be shaped and polished into a fine craft unlike the sandstone of the Northern Wastes, which was a harsh shade of red and relatively soft as far as rock is concerned. It wouldn't last. Grimey struck the rock with a hatchet and watched it crumble into pebbles and dust. It had decomposed, Grimey realized. Abandoned and eroded, the sandstone had become brittle and utterly useless. It couldn't be turned into anythi
ng more than mere rock. A craftsman would have no use for it. The sandstone would endure only as a harsh, empty stone, especially in that part of the world where nothing lived.

  His mind wandered back to his time alone in the Tunnel of Lights. All those eyes turning red at once. Did it really happen or had the darkness actually gotten to him and what he saw was the result of some hallucinogenic mind trick? Either way it bothered him. The image of all those ruby red unblinking eyes staring at him unsettled the hunter. He couldn't flush it out of his mind or shake the thoughts. It was too reminiscent of his dreams. The jeweled eyes of those lurkers looked exactly like the burning eye that invaded his slumber. The whole reason why he joined Leo in the first place was because something about those dreams urged him on. Some indescribable impulse drew the bearded hunter away from Quarry and took him on a path to the unknown north. Maybe whatever it was that assaulted his dreams could be found in the Northern Wastes and the hunter could introduce it to his axe.

  The hunter's thoughts then returned to the situation he faced with the many switchbacks in the ravine. It felt like he was in a giant maze. A cruel, malicious maze of no end. How long had he been wandering in its shadow anyway? No idea. He had kept his senses sharp to be on alert of an ambush at first, but the hunter's focus grew weary and he holstered his hatchet. Besides, Grimey had figured the chances of an ambush were little. So little in fact that he didn't bother to keep a hand on a hatchet. Being on alert for an ambush slowed him down and he just wanted out of the maze, especially when he felt beads of sweat roll off his chin onto his beard. Fed up with the hot ravine, he quickly paced through the curves and switchbacks. He just wanted out.

  His wish was granted.

  The emergence from the ravine was so sudden Grimey didn't notice at first. He walked several paces filled with frustration before realizing there were no longer any walls around him. Stunned with his own lack of sense, Grimey halted and drew his axe. A new environment could mean new danger and he just blindly walked into an unknown place, which was always potentially dangerous.

  He stood along the rim of a vast gulch. The ground descended slightly such that it made the hunter think of a huge bowl made of dirt. What stood at the center of the gulch, however, didn't match the rest of the surroundings. A large cone-shaped mountain emerged from the ground and towered over the landscape. But it wasn't the fact that a mountain was there that was odd. It was its color. It was of a distinctly deeper shade of red than the surrounding sandstone. It was almost crimson. Grimey, although having never seen or read anything about it before, knew this was Iyre Mountain.

  -** --*