by Garry Ocean
On the way, the hunters would meet from time to time small herds of perpetually starving gobblers. When they are a few, these creatures do not present any dangers. You hit them with a stick on the head and they just run in different directions. “Although it is weird that they are already getting into herds when the Exodus is still so far away,” Sith thought.
On several occasions, the hunters spotted needlespitters, always grazing in pairs. Their long needles, sticking out from their tails as a beautiful fan, were very popular with the women villagers. But the hunters now had a totally different goal. They did not touch anything that did not present danger to them. Killing anyone, even lethally dangerous creatures, for an immediate entertainment or to satisfy the hunter’s urge, was not encouraged. And they didn’t want to anger the Forest for no reason.
On the third night, not far from their campsite, they heard a roar and stomp of the fighting stinkhs. Ron, the elder of the team, even contemplated getting as far away from these giants as possible. But the fighting noises soon stopped and they decided to stay.
Sith was the second to stay on guard. Sitting by the fire, he was listening to the Forest intently. And the Forest was living its usual active nightlife and did not react to an unwelcome intrusion by the people in any way. And let the Sky Dominia be blessed for that. The boy repeated the due Prayer once again, not taking his gaze off the Crescent in the night sky. Dominia was impartially glowing with its cold greenish light. How was anyone to understand if tonight she was well-disposed toward them?
The elders often said that in the ancient times people could talk to her. Not everyone, of course, only those who knew the True Word. Well, that’s understandable. But not now. Even Whisperer can’t talk to her. And he, Whisperer, is capable of so many things! He is the Whisperer of all whisperers. Even the Forest takes him as its own. What did he use to say? “If you want to get something from the Forest, you need to imagine it clearly in your head, and then ask. And not just as people ask, but with your whole heart.” Sith sighed at the memory and thought, “Easier said than done. Perhaps, I should ask the Dominia in the same way? Nonsense, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
He turned his head up, gazing intently at the green crescent and whispered quietly, “The All-Seeing Eye, please tell me what we have in store for us for the day? What should we be ready for, a joy or trouble?”
Somewhere faraway a stinkh started to wail. And the wobblers started to hoot. Somewhere closer, a warthog wept. And then a growing sound of chirping, cracking and fighting came closer. And somewhere nearby something chomped loudly and everything turned quiet. Dead quiet, like nothing had happened.
Sith turned his head around, listening intently. There was no obvious threat. Ron had selected a good spot for camping. The nearest tree was at least thirty steps away. A large creature would not have been able to approach unnoticed. The grass was too young, non-biting. The ground, however, was uneven in some places, sticking out in small hills. A scarifier must have been lodging somewhere nearby. He was not really dangerous, too slow. While he digs himself out, the hunters will have fled far away from him.
However, the cracking was too suspicious. Only yellowbellies crack like that. But why would yellowbellies be here? They don’t habituate in these areas. However, when the Dominia opens her All-Seeing Eye, then you need to be careful. And be on guard all the time. The boy shivered. As if in response, the Dominia’s face showed a dark spot, resembling a human eye. But no. The All-Seeing Eye was now resembling a half-closed slanted eye or a forest beast ready for a deadly spring for the prey. The resemblance was so striking that Sith jumped to his feet involuntarily, holding his short spear firmly in his hand. The sleeping hunters stirred in their sleep. Rigo even raised his head a little but made sure that there was no threat nearby, made himself comfortable again, throwing a reproaching look at the boy.
“This is so stupid of me,” Sith squatted, trying to calm down his shivering. “I must be hallucinating. It was just a cloud. I will soon be afraid of my own shadow. Good thing only Rigo saw my fear. He won’t tell the others. If it had been the mean Goby, he would be teasing me all the way home. Although, of course, I must have been a pretty pathetic sight!” Sith smiled, imagining himself through an outsider’s eyes: agitated, with mad eyes, and a spear ready for a throw. “And what would Whisperer have said?” Sith sighed. It would have been much safer with the teacher here on campsite now.
The elders used to tell that when Whisperer was young, he could simply go to the Forest and live there for months. And when everyone already believed him dead, he would come back to the village as if nothing happened, bringing the roots and herbs only he would know. Many people did not really dislike him, but they were afraid of him. However, when someone got sick in the valley or injured during the hunt, they would turn to him for help first. He must be given credit where the credit is due: he never turned away people asking for help.
Whisperer lived by himself, at the very end of the village. No one knew why he had chosen Sith as his apprentice. Perhaps because Sith was a foundling, with no parents or relatives. He had been found as an infant near the village gate. Or perhaps because Sith, who had no particular physical strength or endurance, was very witty, curious and had good memory. Or perhaps because Whisperer was getting older and it was time to pass his knowledge onto someone.
A long time ago, twenty or even more years, he had another apprentice. As the elders said, Whisperer loved him very much, like he would love his own son. He taught him everything he knew himself and was very proud of him. Whisperer took the boy into the Forest for long stretches of time. But once he returned alone, grave and grieving. He spoke to no one for over a year. Everyone decided that the Forest had taken the boy. Ever since then, Whisperer did not go to the Forest for long and too far.
Three years ago, their village had drawn the straw to Present the Gifts. Whisperer told Sith apprehensively that the first stage of his training was over and ordered him to get ready for a journey. As Sith suspected, they were supposed to go to the Stone Gate, where they brought the gifts to the Forest every year and where he was hoping he would go through his initiation.
For the whole day, Whisperer was selecting the best fruit that the villagers had gathered in various places. Sith was following his teacher everywhere, trying not to miss anything and remember everything. Whisperer was walking along the rows of gathered treasures, slowly and carefully inspecting them. He was whispering something to himself, looked at the fruits through the sunlight, smelled them, nearly tasting them. Sometimes he put to the side something he particularly liked, only to come back to it a little later.
The fruits were great, one better than the other. But that was understandable. Every village of the gatherers strived for their fruits to be presented as the Gift. This is why they had selected the best ones. By the end of the day, Whisperer finally selected the twelve best ones. Sith, having pulled his guts together, asked the teacher the question that had been on his mind all day: Why exactly these fruits? What was so special about them? Whisperer, in his usual manner of using very few words, responded that one must listen to one’s heart. For the rest of the evening, Sith was listening to his heart carefully, but heard nothing. The boy decided that this skill would come to him after the initiation and stopped torturing himself.
Of course he knew a lot of Words and could put a spell on any upsidedowner or even a couple of needlespitters, should he happen to run into them accidentally. He could also properly ask and receive from the Forest a seedling, a root or a young plant. But almost every experienced hunter in his village could do this as well. However, to ask the Forest to part, like Whisperer could, or to show the shortest hidden trail or to divert a whole herd of hungry falselegs running at full speed – that Sith could not do yet.
It started to go dark when Whisperer finally pronounced his judgment. The people who gathered around him, already quite tired of waiting, were happy to cheer the winners. Out of nearly thirty villages of ga
therers who participated in the contest for the Gift, only eight were announced to be the winners. And four of them even twice. From their crop, Whisperer selected two best fruits.
Those who were not blessed by Dominia this time, were not sad for too long. According to an old tradition, the winners were to treat the losers all night long for a good home-made beer and various foods they brought with them. Since no one knew in advance whose fruits would be selected, each village of gatherers brought in their best harvest. The celebration usually lasted for three days.
The people started to move toward the center of the village, where the women had already prepared the tables in advance. Whisperer and Sith went to their place to finish the last-minute preparations. Whisperer had always taken time to get ready for each long trip into the Forest. For the whole night, they were reading the Word prayers and smoked the roots of leafy mandra to surround themselves with its pleasant aroma. Only at dawn, when Dominia closed her all-seeing emerald Eye, and the tender rays of Orphius just touched the ground, they hit the road. They had a long way to cover, and this was when Whisperer revealed to Sith the True Legend.
As a child, Sith heard a lot of various stories and legends told by the elders in the evenings by the main village fire. Just like any kid, Sith loved to hear the endless legends of the ancient times. He knew almost all of them by heart, but what the teacher told him was so new he was listening under his breath. This time, Whisperer, a man of few words, surpassed himself.
“Once upon a time, a long-long time ago,” Whisperer was telling in his slightly coarse voice, looking somewhere faraway, “People came to this World, running away from Demons. They were looking for shelter, and the Forest gave it to them. It let the running people in, and closed the road for Demons with its powerful branches.”
“At that time, many people knew the True Word. The Forest was listening to them and gladly shared its fruits with them, demanding nothing in return. Everything they needed for life, people could take from the Forest. Food, clothing, shelter – people could find everything in its branches. The words that we are using now are just a flicker of the candle lit from the fire of the True Word.”
“However, every new generation brought more and more people. And one day the Forest became too small for them. Many left and built the City. Often the legends that you must have heard from our elders refer to it as the Old or Lost City. People started to cultivate land and grow the fruit-bearing trees. That’s how gatherers were born. When they needed new trees, people went to the Forest and took the younglings from it. That’s how hunters appeared. Those were happy times, the era of universal prosperity. Had it not been for people’s greed, we would have lived in peace and accord even now.”
“But people needed more and more. They started to take everything they wanted from the Forest, without asking for permission. That’s when the first beasts appeared. From then on, only those who knew the True Word could enter the Forest unharmed. But they were fewer and fewer. To preserve the Word, they transferred it to their trusted students. The Word was whispered from teacher to the apprentice. That’s how whisperers appeared. Too bad that the initial true words were forgotten because of the multiple retelling and transfers,” Sith heard regret in his teacher’s voice. “Or, perhaps we just forgot how to pronounce them correctly? No one will ever know now.”
“But even then people did not stop, did not become less greedy. They decided to punish the Forest. Well armed, and at that time the weapons they had were a lot better than now, the warriors went to the Forest and started to kill the beasts. One by one. They moved slowly, step by step, checking every bush, looking under each root. When they found the beasts’ nests, they’d kill them all. If people couldn’t kill them with a sword, they’d burn them with fire. The massacre continued for a long time. The Orphius rose and set at the horizon many times. And when it was dark, the all-seeing Dominia was shining on the people with its green light. So, the warriors reached the Forest Lake, the Forest’s forefather, killing everything on their way. And when they thought that they had finally won, the First Exodus happened.”
“Myriads of beasts ran over people like a live wave and poured farther toward the City. More than a half of the warriors were killed at once. Those who were lucky to survive, turned around and ran, terrified in part of the fate their families would have to face, left unprotected. The Old City had no unsurpassable wall that the Great City has now. However, a small garrison left to guard the City, was fighting to the end. Battling the beasts and dying with their arms in their hands, they traded their lives for some time with the Passed Gods. Thanks to that deal, the elders, women and children were able to find shelter in the basements of their homes and wait out the invasion. And ever since then, once every ten years, another Exodus happens. For it not to be as devastating as was the First one, people bring the Gifts to the Forest before the Exodus.”
“All right, let’s camp here!” Ron’s voice kicked Sith back to reality.
Orphius, concluding its usual run across the sky, was slowly setting behind the Bony Mountain Chain.
“It will get dark soon, we need to manage to break camp,” Sith thought, unclenching his hands with great difficulty. He moved his fingers a little and then made himself inspect the wounded.
Rigo was still alive, but to the touch his body seemed cold and unresponsive. The wound on his thigh stopped bleeding. The yellowbelly’s bite caused the blood to clot, it became as dense as tar and the person would inevitably die. Sith looked at the dying man helplessly. He could do nothing. Had the yellowbelly bitten the man’s arm or leg, it would have been possible to tourniquet the limb above the bite. The poison then would have moved in the body a lot slower and there would have been hope to bring Rigo back to the village alive. Had only Sith not lost the little bag with the herbal antidotes that Whisperer had gathered for him for the trip!
Sith glanced at Ron quickly. The hunter was inspecting the clearing in the woods, a small meadow, that he selected for their camp. He would plunge his spear into suspicious warts on the trees. “Looking for false furries,” Sith thought wearily. This was Ron in all his glory. No matter how tired he was from the trip, he would never take a shortcut on security measures and demanded the same from others. Ron was a tough man, but the hunters respected him and obeyed him with no hesitation. Everyone knew that for Ron, his warrior fellow’s life was like his own.
Sith was afraid to think about what Ron was feeling and thinking now. “How and where could I have lost the antidote bag?” Sith looked at the bag’s cut-off lace again. “The yellowbelly must have cut it with its claw. It’s a miracle I didn’t get bitten. Otherwise I would be lying on the Mirror Lake’s shore and would be bothered by nothing anymore. Oh, if only Whisperer were here now, he would have been able to help,” Sith remembered his teacher for a hundredth time.
He knelled down near Rigo, touched his temples with his fingertips and closed his eyes. The only thing Sith could do now for Rigo is to reduce his pain by putting the wounded warrior into a deep sleep. If Rigo has to die, let it be in his sleep… When Sith stopped feeling light needle-like pricking in his fingers, he got up on his feet heavily.
Valu and Goby were sitting, propped up against a large tree, not even bothering to put down their shoulder bags. Ron, on the contrary, was standing, with his legs widely spread, staring Sith down with a silent question.
“I have done everything right,” Sith answered. “The Forest agreed to give us the mycelium. I had felt that for sure.”
“Then why did it attack us?” Ron was hardly capable of holding his rage.
“I don’t know,” Sith humbly waved his arms. “It must have been someone else. I can’t explain. As if someone called them out.”
Ron spat under his own feet and turned away. Despite the anger raging inside him because of the unexpected death of a dozen of his people, he was able to pull himself together. Ron was an experienced hunter and always kept his cool even in the most dangerous situations. This is why he was
always chosen as the leader of the team. The fact that they were still alive was first of all to Ron’s credit.
When all hell broke loose around them, he, instead of searching for shelter in the dense mandra bushes, ordered his team to take position along the shore of the Mirror Lake. It was almost mad. Jumping from one hillock to another, those who remained alive ran across the dangerous swamp and reached the rocky land that saved them. Literally in a second the silver surface of the lake rose and, just like a giant tongue, licked away the herd of yellowbellies closely chasing the hunters.
Catching their breath after a mad dash, the people were looking at the lake taking into its depth the beasts caught in the sticky trap. Hundreds of their claws were making crazy snapping sounds. Some of the yellowbellies managed to get out to the shore. Then, without agreeing with each other, the hunters rushed to those that got out with wild battle cries and started to kill them with the quick hits by their short spears. Not to waste precious time, Ron led his troops farther away not waiting for the last furry beast to die. The silver neck of the lake was only about two or three hundred feet that separated the hunters from the hungry beasts raging ashore.
Ron noticed that at least a hundred of yellowbellies separated from the main herd and started to go around the lake, trying to cut the people off from the mandra bushes that could save them. He was very surprised by that. The yellowbellies were not famous for their smarts and always simply charged ahead. But Ron had no time to think about it then. However, now Ron was trying to remember the day’s events in detail.
“The boy is right,” he admitted to himself. “Exactly. The beasts behaved as if someone drove them to us. And where in this part of the forest, this time of the year, such a huge herd of yellow killers would come from? They chased us as if we had destroyed their nests. Even when we tried to hide in the dense branches of mandra bushes, many of them followed us. Despite the fact that for a yellowbelly it’s equal to death. This is really strange…”
