Krag shook his head. “I do not know that either, boy. There was a time when a Magi patrol would visit us, at least once every cycle, to see whether there were any children that possessed the gift of Vis, so that any boy who had the potential would be taken away by them to be trained as a Magus at one of their citadels. That was over twenty cycles ago. Now, very few outsiders ever come by our settlement any more. Many times during my own youth, we would sometimes encounter hunters from other tribes in the wastes and there would be much feasting and trading. Soon enough, these friendly meets dwindled to nothing. Five cycles ago, one of our hunts chanced upon an old village by the Stone Mountains, near the upper edge of the Silt Sea. It had been abandoned for some time. Many of the houses had already been buried in dirt. We found no one and nothing of value, so we moved on.”
Jinn leaned forward so he could hear more, the pain in his right knee momentarily forgotten. “What do you think happened to them? The tribe that inhabited that settlement?”
“I do not know the answer to that either, Jinn,” Krag said. “I only fear that our way of life is finally at an end.”
Jinn bit his lip. “You should not be feeling so melancholy, especially at a time like this, chief hunter! We found a great sand dargon, perhaps there may be more in this area!”
Krag smiled. “I admire youth such as yourself for the unbridled optimism your generation always has. Perhaps you are right and I am wrong. Perhaps this encounter with a huge dargon is a good sign.” He titled his head upwards and squeezed the waterskin to swallow the remaining droplets of wine still in it. “I shall drink to that!”
Jinn grinned. At least he was able to bring a smile to his mentor’s face. “I wanted to ask you, Krag- I am going to need a new spear. If I do not get one, I may not ever be allowed to go on another hunt again.”
Krag laughed again. “Fear not, boy! We have enough dargon teeth to make you a fine bone spear. Only instead of a fragile flint tip, you shall have a very sharp, very hard spearhead this time. Elder Brar is a master teether, and he will be delighted he finally has some new dargon teeth with which to work with. He has never forgotten to remind me to always find him some petrified teeth, as he fears his skills in tooth working have diminished due to a lack of practice.”
Jinn was still unsure. “What about the other hunters? Would they not be given priority over me when it comes to having the best weapons?”
Krag gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Leave it with me, Jinn. I will make sure that one of the tooth heads will be yours. But you must promise me that you shall take care of it. A sharpened dargon tooth is far better than a flint head, but you must be responsible for it at all times. Make sure that you clean the tooth after every use and keep it away from the algae. Any liquid, such as blood, needs to be removed once you are done using it. If you do not do these things, your tooth spear will become as brittle as the flint ones.”
Jinn nodded enthusiastically. “You have my solemn word that I will care for my future weapon as if my life depended on it.”
“Good,” Krag said. “A hunter’s weapon is his most prized possession. Take care of it and it will not let you down. Once the others in the village see it, they will have even greater respect for you. Especially that betrothed girl you have, she will sing your songs every night!”
Jinn blushed. Like all young men his age, he was already destined to marry one of the females in the tribe, as per the custom. It had been arranged while they were still small children, due to the fact that the tribe needed constant new blood to replace those that had died. His wedding day with Kere the freckled girl was to take place in the next moon. As a youth of the tribe, he had a sacred duty to plant his seed in her, so that his people would survive. His sister on the other hand, was destined never to raise a family. Ever since Nyx had manifested her Vis, she was automatically excluded from any marriage arrangements. It was the tribe’s sacred law that any Striga must remain childless and unmarried for the rest of their lives.
“A new tooth spear would surely impress Kere and her parents,” Jinn said. “But I know what will make her desire for me even more powerful is if I could somehow get my hands on a metal tipped spear, like what you and Miri have. There surely is nothing better than having a weapon like that.”
Krag smiled as he shook his head. “If you want my metal spearhead, then you must prove yourself. It is only passed down from the chief hunter to his successor.”
“I shall work hard and let it be my one goal in life then, to become a chief hunter,” Jinn said. “Does that also mean the same for our protector? If Nyx proves herself, will she also inherit Miri’s black spear?”
“That remains to be seen, for Miri did not inherit her weapon,” Krag said.
Jinn’s eyes opened wide. “Oh? How did she come to acquire such a powerful spear?”
“Before you were born, Miri was but a young girl around the age of your sister, younger I think,” Krag said. “Like you and your sister, Miri was a child of the wastes, a foundling. Elder Zedne’s older sister Elipe found Miri as a baby, somewhere near the edges of the Silt Sea, and raised the child as her own.”
“So that is why Miri’s skin is somewhat paler than anyone else in the tribe! She was born an outsider.”
“Yes, but she grew up amongst us, and she has earned her right to be a full member of the tribe,” Krag said. “She is no outsider.”
Jinn bowed his head down. “Of course. I would not question her dedication for protecting us. I am sorry for interrupting you, Krag.”
“Good, now as for the rest of the tale, Miri eventually manifested her Vis and was soon called a Striga, like Elder Zedne was at that time,” Krag said. “One day, a group of marauders attacked our settlement. I was but a young man myself back then. These powerful men were renegade Magi, either runaways or exiles from their order, and they were equipped with potent weapons and armor made of metal. Many of the tribe died defending the weaker ones that day- my father, Elipe, and the tribe’s protector. Just as the brigands were about to slaughter the remaining youths and the wounded men, Miri challenged the leader of the marauders to a duel. If she won, the rest of them would leave the village peacefully. The enemy leader was so amused at the audacity of a young girl making such a bold challenge, he accepted.”
“I had heard the stories of this battle as a child, but not with such detail,” Jinn said. “Please go on, chief hunter.”
“It was the most incredible battle I had ever seen,” Krag said. “My own skull was bashed in, and I took an arrow in the leg, so my memories are somewhat hazy, but it was the first and only time I had ever seen a Striga fight against a Magus. The enemy leader was flying through the air, trying to use his mindforce to throw up a cloud of sand and he even tried to pin Miri to the ground with his Vis. They did a lot more things, but I can hardly remember it all, it is just a blur of recollections now. But Miri held her own, as she used her powerful mindsense to trick and disrupt her opponent’s concentration. In the end, I no longer remember how, she drove a bone dagger through the enemy leader’s throat. The rest of the marauders left peacefully and we buried our dead. They have not returned since that time, and Miri was unanimously elected by the surviving elders as the new protector. She has been defending us all ever since.”
“So she earned the right to the black spear then?”
“The metal spear that she carries with her was the enemy leader’s own weapon,” Krag said. “She took it from his dead hands. The black shaft of that weapon is made from quetzal wood that once grew in abundance long before either of us was born. Quetzal trees were resilient, and would grow to reach up into the sky. Their wood was both hard and flexible. But these things called trees are all gone now- chopped up for building materials that ultimately rotted away or for the fire pit. That black spear shaft is all that is left of their legacy.”
Jinn remembered the teller’s stories of beings called plants and trees. Entities that could grow into mighty stalks that covered a once green land. The tell
er had told him that all the trees were now dead, driven to extinction eons ago. The only life that grew on the ground these days and could be farmed were the algae and the fungi. The young hunter could only imagine what a world in the past would have looked like, surely he would have gone mad at the first sight of such a vision.
There were shouts coming from the other side of the camp. The voice that called out to them was from Ruuk, the skinner. “Krag, come here quickly! We found something!”
Both Krag and Jinn got up and made their way over to the others. Spread out over a leather and bone table was the large stomach sack of the dargon. The beast’s abdomen was carried back to the camp intact, because the skinner needed to carefully cut and peel away the right parts in order to save the membrane and eventually dry it out for use as lining for their bladders. A dozen people were standing beside Ruuk as he had sliced open the top part of the stomach, revealing its grisly contents. When Jinn limped over and stood behind Ruuk’s shoulder, he immediately let out a yelp as he saw what was still inside the dargon’s stomach. Nyx was standing beside her brother and she pulled him away, lest he start to vomit.
Krag made his way over until he was beside Ruuk the skinner. As he stared down at what was on the leather table, he realized it was the lower part of a human leg. Even the leather boot around the foot was still intact. Dargons were known to kill and eat people, but no attacks had been recorded for many cycles. “Were they men?” Krag asked.
Ruuk nodded. He was thick and stocky, and his arms were like stumps. “I think they were at least two men. I found three sets of hands, and at least one head. Looking at that well-made boot, it could not be from a tribe in the wastes, the leatherwork and the stitching of the sinew is too fine- it must have been made with a metal needle.”
Burd was the master bone worker and he carefully took out the remains of a human torso from the interior stomach membrane of the slain beast. He carefully peeled back the partially digested loincloth. “At least one of the men was a Magus,” he said. The Magi were the male counterparts of the Strigas, they were masters of the mindforce.
Jinn, having recovered his wits, turned around and looked at the bloated, slimy remains. “How do you know it was a Magus?”
Burd tilted his head impatiently as he held up the salient parts. “Look, boy, the loins were emasculated. Only the Magi practice this form of ritual.”
Krag frowned. “What were the Magi doing out here? Were they coming to see us?”
Ruuk shook his head. “It has been many cycles since any of us has even seen a real live Magus. They stopped their patrols a long time ago. If they came out here, then there must be a reason for it.”
Krag glanced at the master skinner. “How long do you think these men have been in that beast’s stomach?”
“A dargon this size has very slow digestion,” Ruuk said. “Looking at the carcasses, the beast must have eaten these men at least two days ago, maybe more.”
The effect of the wine was beginning to dissipate from Krag’s head, only to be replaced by a pounding headache. He didn’t like this at all. He was an ardent worshipper of Duun, the god of the wastes, and signs such as this meant that bad luck was on the horizon. First they encountered the biggest sand dargon anyone had seen in thirty cycles, and now this. Duun’s way was that of tranquility, for the days to remain constant, never changing. Life was supposed to be stable, not full of surprises. When things got interesting, it signaled a time of great change. And when change came about, it usually meant turmoil. This was not good.
Miri stood at the edge of the camp when the shouts of alarm were raised. She used her mindsense to get a glimpse of what the others were thinking of. Within seconds she already knew what they were talking about before she even needed to walk over there. While the others were celebrating this extraordinary day, the chief hunter was in a troubled mood. Miri was as worried as Krag, but she needed to maintain a calm exterior, for that was the way of the protector. The last thing that was needed was to show a sense of panic or concern, for that would demoralize the others. Whatever the challenge that lay ahead, she was confident she would be able to deal with it.
Nyx ran over to her and they both were standing at the edge of a dried riverbed. The illumination of the fires behind them cast long shadows along the dusty ground. “Miri, the hunters would like a word with you to discuss what they had just found,” Nyx said.
Miri nodded without turning her head while she continued to stare out into the wastes. “I know what had happened, the bodies of two Magi were found in the beast’s stomach.”
Nyx was shocked. “Huh? How did you … oh, you used your Vis! But I thought it was taboo to do that?”
“Normally it would be,” Miri said. “But when everyone is suddenly excited, stray thoughts can sometimes make its way over to you, much like a grub worm will come out of the sands the moment they sense food. When that happens, it is best to let the other’s thoughts flow through you like a current of warm air.”
Nyx nodded. “I guess I placed too many thought blocks in my mind to be as sensitive to stray cerebrations like that.”
Miri turned and looked at her. “Keep your thought blocks in place for now. Your power is still growing as you gain more maturity. I will teach you to be able to allow some flow of thoughts soon. But first, you must know how to deal with them should the intrusions become too much for your own mind to handle.”
“I understand, Miri,” Nyx said. “If I may ask, why did you not join the feasting earlier? Is something the matter?”
Miri looked back out into the distance. “I was late arriving for the hunt today. It seems that my mind has been preoccupied by something. I could not sleep the night before because some strange visions kept appearing in my thoughts, and no amount of my disciplines could seem to abate it. I was actually going to ask you about it whether you sensed it too.”
“Oh? That is strange since I have not felt anything,” Nyx said. “What kind of visions?”
Miri closed her eyes. “Visions of a storm. Being blinded and carried off into the howling winds. Of pain and loss for someone I loved dearly. It was like being in another one’s thoughts, only I could not divest myself from it. I normally could stop any sort of mental intrusion, but this was quite unusual for I could not block it.”
“We have encountered no storms in this hunt,” Nyx said. “Perhaps you accidentally intruded on the dreams of one of the hunters?”
“No, it was not a dream, more like an event that had recently happened…” Just as Miri said those words, a sudden sharp stab of pain forced its way to the back of her skull. She cried out and fell to her knees, clutching her head.
“Miri!” Nyx said as she knelt down beside the protector. The teen girl placed her hands on Miri’s shoulders, hoping to try and comfort her.
For a long while, all Miri could do was moan as the agony pressed down into her mind. She began to chant mentally as she used all her disciplines to stabilize her thoughts and cancel out the pain. Another minute passed before she opened her eyes again. As her vision came back to normal, her mind was now clear. Miri stood up once more while she began to mentally probe the dunes ahead of her.
Nyx stood beside her. The young girl’s face was still a mask of concern. “Miri? Are you alright? What happened?”
Miri immediately ran down the crest of the dune and raced towards the edge of the wadi. Nyx was briefly surprised, but she recovered her wits and took off after the protector. Miri jumped into the bottom of the sandy trench and ran down along its length. Nyx was slightly behind as she sprinted and kept up. Soon enough, both women made it to the edge of the gully, as Miri climbed up over the side and stared at a small mound in front of her.
“There,” Miri said as she pointed to something on the nearby sand.
Nyx turned and looked to where she was pointing at. The moonlight wasn’t too bright, but there was enough illumination to see what it was. Nyx doubled back and gasped.
Lying near a broken sand drift was a y
oung boy. He looked to be around eleven or twelve cycles old and had pale hair like bright silver that caught the reflection of the moonlight. The child was unconscious and breathing heavily, a layer of dust covered his thin little body. Dressed only in a loincloth, the boy wore a single sandal while his other foot was bare.
Chapter 4
By the second day of the hunting party’s return, the young boy had regained consciousness. The tribe had been holding a feast since the first day and some food had been set aside for the child, while Elder Zedne needed to ask him some questions first. Nyx was told to head over to the protector’s home and summon her back to the healer. The teen girl ran all the way. She was in a state of excitement these past few days, for so many new and interesting things had been experienced. Since they were within the familiar confines of the settlement, everyone tended to be dressed a bit more casual. The traveling cloaks were stored away and the females wore breast cloths in addition to their loincloths, while the men only wore the latter. Most of the adults wore simple leather sandals on their feet, and the dozen or so little children would run around naked in order to preserve clothing material for the tribe. It was customary when a child reached their tenth cycle to be given their first loincloth, as a sign of impending adulthood and all of its future responsibilities.
Nyx trotted past the main avenue of the gods, near the main gathering hall. She headed towards the house of the protector, situated near the outskirts of the settlement. Her mind had been filled with so many new sights lately, such as the wondrous feasting upon their return, the joyous singing, and the honors being bestowed upon her for the courageous use of her Vis. Even the hushed murmurs of what they had found in the stomach of the great dargon, and of the discovery of a mysterious foundling in the wastes did not dampen her eagerness. She had seen the protector in action, and she was fully confident that the entire village could more than handle anything that would come their way.
Lands of Dust (The Dying World Book 1) Page 4
