The other Antrilii stopped and dismounted. They worked quickly, making camp with practiced hands. The horses were left to graze, and Endric was surprised no one bothered to tie them up. They didn’t wander far. One of the Antrilii disappeared, returning a short time afterward with a bundle of branches. A small, smoky fire blazed only moments later, seeming to erupt of its own accord from the gathered branches. One of the Antrilii sprinkled something atop the fire and the smoke quickly dissipated.
The Antrilii leading him untied him from the saddle and carried him near the fire. A small flask of water was set into his hands. He looked up briefly at the man who gave it to him and saw an expressionless face beneath the dark paint.
Endric drank slowly, carefully letting the cool water slide down his throat. He coughed once, but even the coughing fits seemed to be easing. Strength had returned somewhat to his arms, and he found he could move them with only minimal pain. His legs remained weak but better than they had been before the Antrilii lifted him into the saddle. Even the worst of his injuries—the deep gash on his chest—only throbbed. The sharp, stabbing pain was no longer a companion. Whatever medicines they had used on his wounds appeared to be working.
Eventually the merahl returned and stalked into the clearing, curling up near the fire. One was missing, and Endric looked around and saw it prowling just at the edge of his vision. Almost as if on patrol. He shook his head, amazed by these creatures. The two lying by the fire seemed like large house cats curled up by a fireplace, basking in the heat. Dangerous house cats.
After a while, the Antrilii roasted something atop the fire. The smell was enticing, and he was handed a hunk of meat a short time later. Endric eyed it carefully before taking a cautious bite. The meat was juicy and flavorful, and he savored the taste. One of the Antrilii sat nearby, eating quietly.
“What is it?” he asked the man.
The Antrilii looked over at him. His face was smeared with orange and red paint, dashes of black mixed within. His hollow eyes wore a hot intensity. “You have never had hare?” His accent was even thicker than the other’s.
“Never like this.” It was true. The meat was seasoned unlike anything he had ever tasted, yet still had a hint of familiarity about it.
The Antrilii grunted. “Most flatlanders do not like Antrilii cooking.”
Endric shrugged. “Who caught it?” He had not seen anyone disappear to hunt. Since it wasn’t salted, he figured it was a fresh kill.
“Merahl.”
Endric raised his eyebrows.
“They don’t only hunt groeliin for us.”
Endric was sure he heard the word correctly this time. “What is a groeliin?”
The man shook his head. “Groeliin can’t be explained. Must be seen.” He offered no further discussion, turning back to his food.
When finished, Endric sat back and looked over at the merahl sitting before the fire. Their tails were curled around them and they lay still. As he watched, he realized that was not quite right. Their ears twitched, swiveling in response to sounds Endric couldn’t hear. Though they rested and another of the merahl still prowled around the edge of the camp, these merahl remained on guard. They made a formidable defense.
He looked up at the night. Cool air blew across his face. The moon had emerged from the hovering clouds and had traveled across the sky. Morning was close now. He should sleep, but he couldn’t shut down his mind. Too many thoughts raced through his head, tormenting him. Lying back, he decided to try, unsure how long they would be stopped and when he might next have the opportunity for rest. He didn’t know when it was that he fell asleep.
Endric was jostled awake by a rough hand on his shoulder. Blinking his eyes open, he saw one of the Antrilii kneeling before him. His face was painted with swirls of dark paint, brown and dark red, and he wore deep black leathers. A long sword hung from his waist and he pushed it back as he knelt. A thick beard covered his chin, braided like the others.
“Up. Time to ride.”
He looked around. He still lay where he had sat the night before. The fire had been extinguished and buried, leaving little evidence there had ever been a fire in the first place. The other Antrilii prepared their mounts. Endric was only slightly surprised they had not run off. The merahl were gone, but he heard their distinct call in the distance.
Most of the day had passed while he slept. The sun was up but slipping toward the horizon. How had he managed to sleep through the daylight? He shook his head, feeling groggy like he would after a night of hard drinking. How injured had he been?
The same Antrilii from the day before led his horse over to him. “Can you ride?”
Endric had barely been able to use his arms yesterday; his legs had been useless. Pain still throbbed across his thighs at the spot where Trill had cut into him. He stretched his legs and found he could move them. There was only one way to determine whether they would bear his weight. Endric stood slowly, stretching tight muscles that screamed in protest. “I think so.”
The Antrilii watched him with an unreadable expression before helping him into the saddle. Endric gripped the pommel and locked his feet into the stirrups. The saddle was shaped differently than those the Denraen used, but was comfortable nonetheless. The horse didn’t make a sound as he situated himself, keeping itself rigid. What Endric had taken to be reins the night before had been little more than a line tied to the saddle. Without reins, Endric wouldn’t be able to guide the horse on his own.
Not that he expected the animal to respond to him anyway, especially not after seeing how they had not even bothered to tie the horses up the night before. The horses of Coamdon were oft considered the best of breed, their breeders and trainers unparalleled. Seeing the way the horses worked with the Antrilii—and not for them—Endric wondered if that were true.
The Antrilii led the horse south, following the others. The occasional call of the merahl led them forward. Endric loosely gripped the saddle as he rode, feeling strength slowly return to his arms and legs. He tried again to steer the horse with his legs but was unsuccessful. The Antrilii looked back at him as he did, almost as if he knew what he was doing, yet he said nothing. The horse simply ignored Endric, swishing its long tail up and whipping his arm. Maybe he was not ignored entirely.
They moved steadily, never hurrying. The man walking never appeared to grow tired, and his steps didn’t slow. The others rode at an easy pace, breaking a path in the grass. An occasional copse of tree dotted the plain; otherwise there was nothing but rolling grassland. In the growing darkness, a stillness hovered over everything.
They had ridden for several hours without stopping when the periodic call from the merahl turned into something different. Harsher than the braying he had heard the night before, this sound was like an angry snarl. The sound was continuous and grew quieter. The merahl hunted and had found a scent.
The Antrilii on horse looked back at the man leading him. He nodded, and four of the men suddenly lunged forward. The remaining mounted man rode off but not far, unsheathing his sword and riding in a slow circle around them. Endric frowned at the tactics. The mounted Antrilii seemed as if he patrolled, but the merahl sounded as if they hunted far in the distance.
“They have found the trail,” the Antrilii leading him said.
“Whose?”
“That of the groeliin.” He looked into the distance as he spoke.
“I still don’t know what they are.”
The Antrilii grunted and turned to him, eyes intense. “Be glad you do not.”
They rode in silence for a while longer. Endric waited for the man to say something more, anything, but he didn’t. After a while, the merahl called a new sound. A continuous cry echoed in the air, haunting. Endric shivered. Knowing what made the eerie sound didn’t make it easier to hear. The merahl howled like that for nearly an hour before it suddenly ceased.
He was led steadily south. Toward the merahl.
When they finally fell quiet, it was like a blanket had fa
llen over his ears. Day had turned to a night that was completely silent. Not even the insects disturbed the silence. Endric shivered again.
“What happened?” he finally asked.
The Antrilii looked back at him with an unreadable expression. “The fight is over.”
Endric frowned. “The fight?” The Antrilii didn’t respond. “That’s it? You’re done hunting?”
The man laughed. The mirth didn’t reach his eyes; they remained shadowed by the dark paint upon his face. “For tonight, probably. More remain.”
“More hunts?” Endric was confused. He didn’t think it was the Antrilii accent that confused him. Rather, it was the idea that there was much more to what was taking place than he understood.
The Antrilii nodded. “More hunts. More groeliin.”
“Then you will return home?”
The Antrilii shrugged. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“Depends on what the merahl find.”
As he spoke, the merahl called out again with the distinctive braying they had been following all day. The sound seemed to get farther away, and Endric realized they were on the trail of these groeliin again.
“I guess the hunt is not over,” Endric said.
The Antrilii looked back at him and smiled with a flash of teeth. “You understand the merahl?” Seeing Endric’s puzzled expression, he shook his head. “No. The hunt never really ends.” He smiled, a wolfish smile, again.
After battling his father, Endric had learned the man was dangerous. He had heard stories of his father while growing up. Most seemed exaggerations, tales of his exploits with Trill, battles won. Fighting with him—even an older version—he realized that those stories must have been true. Dendril was a dangerous man. Something about this Antrilii’s smile told Endric he was just as dangerous as Dendril. Maybe more so.
Endric shivered again, looking over at the Antrilii as he did.
As they made their way south, he wondered again why they held him. They could have left him to die. Likely as not, without the merahl scaring off the laca, he would have been torn apart by the wild hound. Yet they had treated and stitched him. Now he would live, but for what?
The merahl barked into the night. Another hour or so passed until the other Antrilii suddenly rejoined them. One of the men had a cut on his arm. A band of cloth was tied around his upper arm in a tourniquet. The others looked unharmed. A small bag was tied to the saddle of one of the men, darkness staining it. Blood. Painful memories of his brother came back to him at the sight.
They rode only a little longer. The Antrilii were silent; only the occasional sound of the merahl broke the night. After a while, they stopped near a copse of trees to make camp. One of the men whistled softly. The Antrilii leading his horse helped him from the saddle, then left him alone. Saddles were stripped from the horses and they were left to forage. One of the Antrilii lit a small fire. Others worked at their own tasks. The merahl eventually returned, looking no worse than they had the last time he saw them.
Endric sat. Even surrounded by the half dozen Antrilii, he was lonely. He looked up at the open sky where the moon glowed brightly. A few clouds dotted the blackness. Around him stretched open grasslands, but it was an illusion. His legs ached and he was exhausted from the ride. His chest hurt and he still had a dry cough.
Shackles might not bind him, but he was no less a prisoner. There was no place for him to go and no way to escape. He looked at the Antrilii and their expressionless, painted faces. Hopelessness flooded through him, and he wondered why the gods had spared him.
He should have died upon the plain.
23
Endric awoke the next day feeling much stronger.
The camp had been cleared and the fire buried by the time he stirred, though he woke sooner than he had the day before. Fatigue still limited him and he still was tired. Part of the healing, he supposed. He stood and stretched, working the tight muscles in his shoulder.
As he did, he watched the Antrilii. Two of the men wrangled the horses, though the chore was not challenging. The horses came to them and waited patiently while saddled. Another man knelt in front of the merahl. Endric watched awhile, thinking it strange that the man murmured quietly to them. They looked back at the Antrilii with an attention that almost made Endric think they understood him. He was still uncertain how he felt about the strange creatures. Uneasy, mostly. The other Antrilii stood, talking quietly.
Endric frowned. It was as if they waited for him. That was not how he expected a prisoner would be treated. They had healed him as well, to the point that he was beginning to feel almost normal. He was surprised that he felt as well as he did, especially knowing how close to death he had come.
A nagging worry at the back of his mind pulled at him. Now that he was feeling better, he should be trying to escape, only he didn’t feel like escaping. A sense of curiosity plagued him.
He wondered about the merahl, about the Antrilii, but mostly about these strange creatures the Antrilii hunted. Watching the Antrilii in their leathers and the fearsome paintings upon their face, he decided that the groeliin must be some prize for them to hunt so far from their lands.
What were they? The Antrilii had returned from the hunt with a bloodstained bag but little else. No other evidence of a victorious hunt. Nothing like the hunts he was accustomed to.
Then there was the simple fact that nothing was left for him in the city. Pendin and Senda were likely better off without his presence. Now that he had been expelled from the Denraen, there was little else in Vasha for him. That fact left a hollow feeling in his chest. A lifetime in the city—born and raised within the mountain city’s walls—and now there was nothing.
Endric swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat.
An Antrilii approached. He was the same one who had been leading the horse, the one who had healed him. Endric watched him warily. The man wore his dark blood-red leathers, and his face was painted differently than the day before. No less frightening though.
“Can you ride?” His gruff voice matched his wide frame.
Endric stared at him for a moment before nodding. “What’s your name?”
The Antrilii narrowed his eyes. Endric worried for a moment that he had insulted the man. Perhaps the Antrilii were not free with names. There were some who still clung to the ancient belief that names gave power. Even the Urmahne still held on to part of that belief; it was the reason the gods were not named.
“I am Dentoun,” he finally answered.
“Endric,” he said, offering his hand. Though he was trapped with them, he wouldn’t behave as if he were a prisoner.
Dentoun gripped his hand with his own wide hand, squeezing just enough that Endric sensed the strength in the man, and shook once before releasing. “Endric. We hunt.”
He whistled softly, a different sound than he made for the merahl, and his horse trotted over. Dentoun helped him into the saddle with less help than he’d needed the day before but still more than Endric preferred. He was not used to needing help with anything.
Once Endric was in the saddle and Dentoun had tied his line to the pommel, he whistled again. This time it was for the merahl. The animals responded quickly, standing with ears alert. The Antrilii who had been kneeling in front of them was now mounted and he leaned over, whispering something softly to them. A low, deep-throated growl came from them and they each bared their teeth, almost as if they were smiling. Then they loped away.
Endric watched them, still amazed. The merahl were unlike any creature he had ever encountered, and he began to wonder if they were as sentient as the Antrilii they worked with. Not served though. Something told him that the merahl didn’t serve. The strange creatures disappeared into the rolling hills of the grassland, only their occasional call still marking their location.
Dentoun led him after the others. The sun still hung brightly in the sky but was now sinking toward the horizon. The Antrilii rode without talking, and the persistent silen
ce became unsettling.
“Why do you hunt the groeliin?” he asked. For a while, Endric didn’t think he would answer.
“Why do the wolves of your mountains hunt?” Dentoun asked in answer. His accented voice was difficult to understand at times, but he was clear as he spoke those words. “They are wolves. That is what they do.” Dentoun shook his head, and his braided beard swung from side to side. “We are Antrilii. We hunt groeliin.”
Endric frowned. Had Dentoun known he was from Vasha, or was it simply an observation? “I’ve never heard of these creatures before.”
Dentoun grunted. It came out more like a growl and reminded Endric of the merahl. “There are few that remember.”
It was a strange choice of words. “Are they common?”
The Antrilii looked back at him with hot fire in his eyes. Endric was almost forced to look away.
“Not here. Be thankful of that.”
“But in your homelands…”
Dentoun nodded. “The groeliin are why we roam the north.”
“Why are they here now?” Endric still had no idea what these creatures were, but the Antrilii seemed to fear them. At least, as much as the Antrilii seemed to fear anything, which was not much.
Dentoun grunted again, another growl. “They have escaped.”
“Escaped what?”
“Antrilii.”
Endric felt his eyes widen. “You had captured them?”
The Antrilii shook his head again. “The groeliin occasionally try to push to the south.” He shrugged. “Usually they fail. Sometimes not.”
“What happens then?”
He shrugged again. “We chase.”
Endric shook his head in puzzlement. “Why not let someone else deal with them?”
Dentoun considered him for a moment. “Who could do this?”
Soldier Son (The Teralin Sword Book 1) Page 20
