Bloodletting Part 2

by Peter J. Wacks

  Laney’s eyes twinkled as she winked. “Well, you had the language covered, so I figured I’d try to be useful somehow. And, you know, I like food.”

  A spark of hope kindled within Sven, and even Halli sat up straighter, weariness gone. Both of them were seeing the younger girl with new eyes.

  “It’s possible,” Halli said. “If we can gather food along the way, the dried stuffs the orocs left may be enough to last us until we escape the forest.”

  “What if we go the wrong way?” Sven asked. “The Corosh Mountains are up, too. If we get lost in the mountains …”

  “There’s a river between us and them,” Laney said. “We collected water from it every day, but we never crossed it coming here. If we hit it, we can follow it back to the caves and maybe all the way out of the forest. If we don’t find the river, then we’ll at least know we’re going the wrong way. I mean … am I missing anything?”

  Sven’s hope grew, shoving away his despair. He might keep his promise after all. “Laney, I could hug you. You’re pretty smart for twelve.”

  “Or maybe you guys are just slow for your sixteen.” Laney blushed crimson, but shrugged. “And I’m thirteen now. My birthday was a few days ago, I think.”

  “What?” Halli cried. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I figured the orocs might’ve been upset if we’d stopped to have a party,” Laney said. “Besides, I’m not the first one to have a birthday since we were captured.”

  “True,” Sven said. “We’re going to have to fix that once we get back. One big party for everyone. Singing and sweetbread and dances and presents and anything else we can imagine.”

  Halli leaned forward and grabbed both their hands. “Then let’s do our best to make it back after all. I don’t want to miss out on a party like that.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty

  Pavil Serevin

  “What?” Pavil staggered as Sibyl released him and ran ahead.

  Malec faltered beside him, staring at the woman’s back. “She’s heading back toward Riktos.”

  “Sibyl, wait, come back!” Pavil called. He didn’t understand. Why had they escaped in first place? What had frightened her into turning around without warning? Was she being manipulated somehow?

  He reached out with his Affinity, trying to get an idea of her emotional state. A larger presence snagged his attention, though, and he reeled at the enormity of it. Confusion … hunger … excitement … but most of all, rage. It all reared over him, blanketing his senses until he couldn’t separate it from the forest and had to drag his affinity back in to keep from being entirely overwhelmed.

  “Run!” Sibyl shouted again, almost lost in the trees.

  Pulled by her call, pushed by the presence he’d sensed, Pavil plunged back through the forest.

  Malec shouted for him, but he didn’t slow.

  “Run, Malec,” he called back. “It’s coming!”

  “What is?”

  Malec’s footsteps stamped behind him and he felt brief relief. Then he heard it. A great crashing shook the forest in their wake. He dared a glance over his shoulder. Treetops shuddered before toppling, and branches whipped about as if in a violent wind. His affinity hadn’t exaggerated. Whatever chased them had to be as big as a village house.

  He sprinted with all his might, tearing through branches he would’ve otherwise ducked or pushed aside. White hot fear scorched his veins as the horrible sound of trees being rent asunder gained on them. Shouts came from ahead. Sibyl had reached the trail. Riktos and Aber had stopped to rest and were jumping to their feet when they came into Pavil’s view. Sibyl fled past them. “Run you idiots! Ravager!”

  Pavil didn’t stop either, with Malec hot on his heels. The men looked dumbfounded as they charged by, but confusion turned to horror as they saw what pursued them.

  “By the Void!” Aber cried.

  “Run!” Riktos shouted over him.

  Pavil risked another glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t. The shape storming through the forest came straight from his nightmares. As his lungs started to burn, he realized the stories were true. Ravagers made nightmares look pleasant.

  They were so dead.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Tetra Bicks

  Tetra and Kellian made a rapid descent to the forest floor, making better time once they reached the bottom of the last terrace, where the great steppes became a gentle slope. Vivid colors of spring adorned every part of the forest, a world made of greens, blues, rich yellows, and movement in every shadow.

  Tetra found himself admiring the beauty of the forest. It was an alien world, and last time he had been here he hadn’t noticed. Rage had consumed him, and the memories he had were bloody and pain filled. This … was amazing.

  The plain fields and simple surroundings of Jaegen held a charm and beauty of their own, but the forest displayed vibrant growth on a whole different scale. Here, nature ruled.

  It was hard to embrace the beauty of the Rocmire through eyes tainted blood-red, though. He remembered the hatred that kept him going, the undying fury that gave him the strength to fight through the pain. He remembered catching up to the orocs and jumping, sword in hand, but the pain buried everything else. Orocs tainted everything for him. They had destroyed his life … his family. He hated them so much. Even with the two he’d killed in the Drayston battle, he still craved seeing the beasts fall before him. Was it such a terrible thing to desire vengeance? Maybe once he’d slaughtered enough to balance out the number of Jaegen villagers, he’d feel at peace again.

  Shadows lengthened as the sun dipped below the horizon, and the two stopped to set up camp. Tetra started to gather twigs.

  “Don’t bother.” Kellian pulled dried food from the packs. “We’re still too close to the border. Starting a fire risks us being caught.”

  “But we have lots of time on them, if anyone is even coming after us. How could they catch us now?”

  Kellian tossed some jerky to Tetra. “We have anywhere from a six to ten hour lead, I’m guessing. On top of that, they have horses, we don’t. For all we know there could be a pursuit party at the top of the steppes looking for us.”

  The two took turns on watch, then woke early and pushed hard. Over the next few days they took turns on watch at night and ate dried rations, continuing to not risk a fire. Tetra didn’t understand how Kellian slept so easily in his armor. The nights still possessed a lingering chill, and Tetra always tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable on the ground and too anxious about the forest noises to let himself relax.

  The corporal, on the other hand, fell asleep in seconds and woke just as quickly. He explained it away as part of his training. They rose before the sun every morning and didn’t stop traveling until they were both too tired to take another step, and still Tetra couldn’t claim a decent sleep. Every second they didn’t spend on the move was time he worried about his sister.

  That fourth morning into the depths of the Rocmire, they’d at least found a game trail, which allowed for easier going than tromping through the dense undergrowth. They followed it until near noon, when Kellian suddenly stopped and snapped his fingers, then motioned for Tetra to stop, also. Tilting his head to the side, he listened.

  “Tetra,” he said softly.

  Tetra looked back at him. “Something wrong?”

  Kellian scanned the green canopy. “Hear that?”

  Tetra concentrated. “I don’t hear anything,” he said after a moment.

  “Exactly. The forest is silent. Animals only do that when there is a predator nearby. I think we should—” Kellian’s eyes widened, and Tetra heard it, too; footsteps coming down the path, and fast.

  “Hide,” Kellian said, shoving him into the thick brush on one side of the trail.

  Tetra pulled his sword and mace free. Kellian drew his sword and opened his water skin. He splashed water along the blade. They peeked through the bushes just as a woman sprinted do
wn the trail. Kellian gave Tetra a confused look before he stepped out, revealing himself.

  “Afternoon,” he said, keeping his sword by his side. She neither slowed nor seemed about to. “Can I ask—”

  “Run you fool!” the woman screamed as she flew past.

  Tetra sheathed his weapons and rejoined Kellian on the trail, staring as she sped away. “Hold on a second,” the corporal shouted in vain.

  Two more people plowed into them, nearly knocking them all to the ground. Tetra grabbed the nearest to steady himself, and then stopped. The world froze. He couldn’t believe what was in front of his eyes.

  “Pavil.” It came out a whisper. His friend wore an assortment of hides and mismatched armor. Malec tangled with Kellian, both trying to disengage.

  Pavil gripped Tetra’s jerkin, his eyes wild. “Uh … Tetra! Um … hello … and run! Ravager!”

  A roar rocked the forest. Tetra turned to see three more men fleeing down the trail with … something chasing just a few paces behind them.

  Ravager. The name of the horror Pavil had spoken, and the master bowyer’s warning, came to him. The creature might’ve been a wild turkey or other sort of large fowl at one time.… Now it stood over twenty feet tall, with pointed, gnarled protrusions of bone piercing the weeping sores covering its skin. It flapped great featherless wings that ended in unnatural bony spikes, like those of a mantis. Its beak curled like a sickle, lashing out and tearing thick branches off trunks.

  The men screamed and flailed as they tried to outrun the beast. Then the ravager’s head shot forward and caught the man furthest behind. He screamed and fell as its beak tore a chunk of flesh from his back. His grey tunic was instantly stained red. The giant bird threw back its head and gulped down its prize.

  “Please! Please …” Writhing on the ground, the man pleaded for the others to help him. Then the ravager’s beak punched through his chest, silencing him. It tore more flesh from the corpse, and Tetra fought the urge to retch.

  “Go,” Kellian whispered, releasing Malec’s wrists. All six men turned and slunk away, leaving the ravager engrossed in its meal. They crept along the path until the monster went out of sight. Then the woman from earlier stepped out of cover in front of them.

  “Is it gone?” she asked.

  “It’s …” Malec swallowed hard, “eating.”

  She winced. “Looks like you’re a man short, Riktos.”

  Pavil and Malec turned and glared at the man she addressed. His eyes darted back and forth, and then he backed away.

  “Let’s go,” he said to his companion.

  “But … the ravager …”

  “Go!” Riktos barked. He made a slicing motion across his chest. “We’re not done here, Sibyl.” They jogged off the trail and disappeared into the forest.

  “I hope it catches them,” Pavil said.

  Tetra goggled at such a bloodthirsty statement from the younger boy. Then Malec put a hand on his arm as if ensuring he really stood there.

  “Tetra?” he said in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

  Tetra grinned. “Malec. I—”

  Malec swept him up in a hug. “I thought you were dead.”

  Tetra grunted. Despite the brace, the pressure was uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter. He hugged his best friend back. “You’re alive. What do you mean, you thought I was dead?”

  “We all did,” Pavil said as Malec released him. “The village was destroyed. We thought all the prisoners were with us at the oroc village …”

  “I’m glad you were wrong,” Tetra said. “Other survivors? Just the children, right?”

  Malec hung his head. “Yes. What about with you? Are there other survivors?”

  “I take it you know each other?” the woman asked.

  “Sibyl, this is Tetra.” Malec said. “We grew up together in Jaegen.”

  “So you survived the orocs and escaped capture?” Sibyl studied Tetra intently.

  “I did, barely.” Tetra returned her suspicious look. She studied him a little too closely, as if she could see through his skin.

  “These boys are from Jaegen?” Kellian asked.

  Pavil peered at the man. “Who’s he?”

  “This is Corp—Kellian Mikkels,” Tetra said. “Yes, Kellian. These are two of my friends.”

  “Tetra, you were right.” Kellian stared at Pavil and Malec and grunted. “They … I …”

  Tetra sighed through his nose. Why did everyone find that so hard to believe? “Where are the others?” he asked. “Where’s Halli and the rest?”

  “Back at the oroc caves probably,” Malec said. “We escaped months ago. That’s when we found Sibyl—or, she found us anyway.”

  “We should be moving,” Sibyl said. “We need to get away from that ravager and catch Riktos before he gets too far. Can’t have him getting back to the Admired.”

  “Admired?” Kellian echoed.

  “I’ll explain while we move.” she said, heading into the forest.

  “Who’s this Riktos fellow then?” Kellian asked as they followed her.

  “He wants to kill us,” Sibyl said.

  Ravagers, orocs, and whatever these Admired were, it didn’t matter. Tetra had found the first of his friends. Nothing could stop him. Tetra snorted. “Oh, is that all?”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Gnarrl

  Balance was lost. Gnarrl knew this as surely as he knew the sun would rise over the canopy of the forest every day. The human saplings might not be oroc, but they didn’t deserve the fate to which they’d been abandoned. Gnarrl stepped over a fallen tree, a large sack of provisions on his back as he and several other orocs slipped away from the clans, back toward the clearing where the humans had been left. It had been several years since he had last ventured to the heart of the Rocmire, and the beauty of the lakes and life trees still overwhelmed him. Yet he left it all in hopes of helping those who needed it most.

  Argant had told him not to return to the human saplings, even when Gnarrl reminded him how the human Geist Walker had helped save the hunters of several clans after the Drayston disaster. Had their actions been so noble? No. They had sought blood, uniting the clans, and yet this human sapling had repaid blood spilled by watering the roots of their tribe.

  Just her being a Geist Walker gave him pause. She possessed an incredible Affilial magnitude, able to heal without touch and walk in both the realm of the living and of the ancestors. Argant had also disbelieved Gnarrl’s story of the girl bonding with the Geist panther. Such a refusal to acknowledge Gnarrl’s report as truth fell just short of a declaration of exile.

  Gnarrl didn’t understand. He’d done nothing to warrant such treatment. His desire to protect and preserve extended to all his clan, and if he now saw the human saplings as part of the clan, who should tell him otherwise? Argant’s choices troubled him. Life belonged to life, as the teachings of Trocus and Azaria said. Enough humans had died by oroc hands already, and the same from the other side of the stream. His actions might yet earn him exile, but he and the others with him were prepared to accept that fate.

  Furrl had tried to join him, but Gnarrl had refused, ordering her to stay and watch over the families of Kunat and Maraco. He’d wanted to tell his daughter of his pride at the young hunter’s bravery and honor, but the words felt too heavy, too final. Gnarrl intended to return to his people, but he must first set things right. Perhaps then Trocus and Azaria would again spread their veil of protection over the Rocmire clans.

  He pushed through a stand of trees and entered the clearing where the human saplings had been left. Gnarrl stopped and the others halted behind him.

  Gone.

  The human saplings were gone. Sap bubbled within his heartwood. Had they already suffered some terrible demise? Had another clan discovered them so close to the heart of the forest and dealt with them accordingly?

  “It seems that Trocus has seen fit to relieve us of their nuisance,” Martok said. The old hunter had only joined
them at the insistence of his daughter, Fursta.

  “I owe my life to the human Geist Walker,” Fursta said. “As do many of the clan’s harvesters. Would we repay by giving her up to the forest?”

  “Her fate and that of the others is the fault of the humans who attacked Foxleaf,” Martok spoke simply, without candor or anger. “Argant has decreed it at the behest of the ancients.”

  “She did not attack Foxleaf. We make the saplings pay for the crimes of the elders now. She has done nothing but give us aid, even after we attacked her people a second time. We’ve done nothing but take from her, and still you wish to blame her for an attack the humans might not even be responsible for in the first place?” Fursta’s words echoed Gnarrl’s. At least some of the clan had listened.

  Martok rumbled. “The humans have always wanted our forest. That is all the evidence we need.”

  “Such slow-sap thinking has brought the clans to where they are,” Fursta said, sounding disappointed. “Hiding in the heart, and torn. Out of balance.”

  “Enough,” Gnarrl stopped inspecting the clearing and stood. “There are tracks. The human saplings must be trying to escape the forest. We must find and help them. Martok, if you do not wish to help, then return to the clan.”

  The old hunter shifted his sack of food and looked at his daughter, who refused to look back at him. He made no move to leave.

  “Very well. We must travel quickly. Who knows how far they are already. We need to find them before anything else does.” Gnarrl broke into a hunter’s stride, using both his affinities to quicken his pace and gain a sense of the terrain. With any luck, the saplings weren’t far.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Tetra Bicks

  The boys had spent most of the day talking after the hurried flight from the ravager. Kellian walked with Sibyl, quietly talking with her as she tracked Riktos. When they broke for camp Tetra once again tried to gather firewood, but this time it was Sibyl who stopped him.

  Tetra didn’t know how a small metal burner filled with alcoholic spirits could heat up anything. Sibyl gathered them around and produced a contraption that looked like two bowls on a tripod, explaining that they could use it to cook a stew without needing to burn wood. This caused Malec and Pavil to break out in complaints, something about raw bird, but she silenced them with a look.