by James Kahn
Jasmine ran up to him quickly. She grabbed a handful of spiderweb from the crotch of a nearby tree, and smoothed the tangle over his wound. It immediately stopped bleeding.
“It didn’t look like you hit yourself that hard,” she commented.
“Oh,” he brushed it all aside with a hand motion.
Joshua chuckled. “Happened two days ago. Hit with a two-by-four by an Equiman whore.”
Beauty scowled. Jasmine smiled. “Oh, I see,” she said with a knowing wink.
Beauty looked embarrassed. But this pain reached Jasmine as quickly as his physical pain had, and she hastened to touch him again, her hand on his hand, her eye on his eye. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “that was mean of me.”
His hand responded to her pressure for the briefest moment; then he shied, coughed, turned away. She looked off, after him; then down at the ground to avoid looking in at her own feeling.
The hunt resumed.
The patter of rain on the treetops continued to accompany their journey through the dim, tinted ghost-light of the forest. Low-dangling willow branches brushed their faces every few steps, as the woods became even thicker. Josh had the uneasy feeling they were being watched.
Jasmine’s special eyes were of little advantage in dense terrain where there was an obstacle every few paces; but Beauty’s sense of smell was keen as ever—and something was bothering it now. He didn’t know what it was. Still, something was making him skittish, and they all respected such notions. They walked slower.
The forest cleared somewhat, and in the clearing was a totem. A ring of snake skulls, each biting the back of the one before it. “Ouroboros,” said Jasmine. “What’s that” asked Josh.
Beauty didn’t like it. He shuffled backward, looking left and right.
“The serpent who swallows his tail,” muttered Jasmine. “Ending, beginning.” “What?” Josh pressed.
There was a noise, off in the thick. All around them the willows swayed on undercurrents.
“Let’s leave this place,” Jasmine said quietly. They advanced on the trail they’d been following. The rain without seemed to be abating some. The air in the forest responded by clearing a bit; though it remained gravid, impending. The hunters closed ranks. They drew weapons. They walked stealthily, senses alert to movement, sound, intuition. Joshua felt watched.
Once again, the forest thinned, then opened. They found themselves on a grassy knoll. Ahead of them stood a virtual wall of willows, trunk to trunk with barely space for a stone between them. Josh turned to Beauty. “Turn back …” he started to say. Too late.
Four Bears, an Ursuman, and a Human—if he could be so called—closed in from the trees. JEGS. The Human went at once for Jasmine with a wicked spiked staff, thinking to kill the woman quickly. She engaged him with her blade, though, backing directly to a large tree, so no one could sneak behind her.
Joshua threw his first knife into the heart of the closest Bear. The animal wailed, and died instantly. Another soldier caught the young hunter four claws across the chest, but Josh backed him off with a serious arm wound. Bears were too proud to fight with weapons.
Beauty disabled one immediately, coming down on the animal’s shoulder with the full weight of his hooves, while simultaneously stringing an arrow. He was about to loose the arrow into the chest of another charging Bear, when he looked into the animal’s face—and stopped. The Bear stopped as well, and the two creatures faced each other in silence.
Jasmine, meanwhile, had run the churlish Human through, and was now hand to hand with the Ursuman. Josh was similarly engaged with another Bear who’d appeared. Suddenly two ropes landed around Beauty’s neck, pulling him to the ground. The Bear he’d been facing screamed a tremendous growl to the sky. Josh received a blow to the back of the head with a huge paw. Jasmine killed the Ursuman, but he fell on her sword, leaving her weaponless. And suddenly it was all over.
Jasmine surrendered quietly to two brown Bears who flanked her, to the center of the clearing. Josh was out cold. Beauty slowly stood, the ropes hanging loosely around his neck—two grizzly Humans holding the ends—and faced the great Bear whose visage had initially stayed his attack.
“D’Ursu Magna,” said Beauty, with moment. “Beaute Centauri,” growled the Bear. They each took a step forward and hugged a great Bear-hug. Jasmine and the others looked on with a combination of shock and curiosity.
Beauty spoke. “I should have known only you could have followed such a trail as the one we left. You look well, ugly one.”
“And I should have known your devious sign the minute I saw it …” nodded the Bear. Then, with pained regret: “… and abandoned the hunt.”
They stood without speaking a moment, then D’Ursu Magna said, “Come I must take you to camp. You are our prisoners, now, there’s nothing else to be done. Please, old friend, don’t bolt. The Judge will decide your case …”
“The Judge is here?” asked Beauty in surprise.
“Not a mile from this spot. Listen, Beaute Centauri, I will be your counsel. Whatever was your reason for being here … please: join us now. I can guarantee it is the only plea that will have the Judge’s ear.”
Beauty took the ropes from his neck. Joshua was revived, Jasmine helped him up. And so the prisoners were escorted from the battlefield by half a dozen brave soldiers and true, whose brothers lay dead but for singing them into Heaven.
The group made slow headway through the thickening willows, into dark and clinging undergrowth, twisting shadows. At last they emerged into a great space, where the willows arched at a stately fifty feet, and the dome of the forest looked like a verdant cathedral.
Fires blazed here, spraying light, roasting fowl. Scores of creatures played games, shot the long bow, wrestled, drank ale. All manner of animals resided herein. The caravan of guards and prisoners entered the great forest hall and stopped. The Bear-soldiers dispersed to their own with tales of battle and tales of woe. Music laced the leaves.
D’Ursu Magna took Beauty, Jasmine, and Joshua across the clearing to its opposite end. They passed jugglers, dancers, swordsmen, and the like until finally they stood warmed by the light of three campfires. And there before them, sitting in a living throne carved out of the most massive, aged weeping willow in the forest, was the two-ton, jewel-encrusted, black-furred figure of Jarl: the Bear-King.
CHAPTER 9: The Trial
SITTING, Jarl measured ten feet from footpad to crown; standing at full menace, he was near eighteen. Around his neck hung raw gems—rubies, emeralds—glittering as the earth they came from, precious fruits of the rock.
He had a certain natural majesty. His snout was ebony, his teeth pearl. His eyes radiated their own deep light. And buried in the brown-black fur of his ankle was a thick gold chain: memento from his days as a Human captive, a touring circus bear—he wore it always, to remember.
He sat impassively in his willow-tree throne as D’Ursu Magna brought the prisoners forward. Only his eyes moved, alive with the sparks of the campfires that surrounded him.
D’Ursu Magna spoke. “Your Wisdom, we have the prisoners—Beaute Centauri and two companions. They gave fight, but stopped when they saw who we were. Prisoners, bare your necks to Jarl, King, Brother, and Judge.”
Baring the nape of the neck was the ritual animal way of conceding defeat or paying homage. The three comrades did it now, with equal parts of prudent wile, honor, and fear.
Jarl sat forward slightly, his eyes the color of sapphires. “Centaur, I know you,” he said.
Beauty raised his head pridefully. “I fought with you in the War, your Honor.”
“And fought well, your Wisdom,” added D’Ursu Magna.
Jarl’s eyes flashed brighter than the flame at D’Ursu, then back at Beauty. “So, Centaur, you have a champion in our ranks. How come you to know each other?”
“D’Ursu Magna was my lieutenant on half a hundred noble campaigns,” said Beauty, looking hard on his old friend.
“Is this true,
D’Ursu?” Jarl turned his curious features on the Bear Chieftain. “You were this Centaur’s lieutenant in my army during the Strife?”
“In forty-four battles I was his lieutenant,” answered D’Ursu Magna, looking straight at Jarl. Then, staring into the trees, he continued, “Once, he was mine.”
Joshua quite unexpectedly felt a pang of jealousy—for what reason, he could not say—but submerged it for the more important matters of the moment.
“Soooo,” growled Jarl, nose in the air, “how come these proud veterans to be here? How are they charged?”
D’Ursu cleared his throat, pawed the ground. “Charged with killing an Accident, your Wisdom. Without Justice.” He spoke softly.
Jarl’s eyes became stern like the glowing coal. “This is a serious charge, Brothers. To kill an animal, except in defense, or except for food, is the gravest crime, an act without Justice. And even an Accident is an animal. Not less so nor more than Bear, Centaur, or Human.” In the background the noises of two hundred-odd animals could be heard: wrestling, telling stories, laughing, growling, gaming, purring, and preening. Jarl paused to listen a moment, eyes closed, then went on: “How do you plead?”
Josh spoke up. “We didn’t kill him—I’m not saying we wouldn’t have if we’d found him alive. His traveling mates did it, though—a Vampire and a Griffin—and we’ve been on their trail ever since.”
Jarl leaned forward once more. “You, Human, how are you called?” He licked his paw reflectively.
“My name is Joshua. I’m a hunter and a Scribe.”
“And a fighter by the claw marks on your chest,” smiled the Bear-King. “But can you prove what you say, Joshua Hunter?”
“He speaks truth, on my word,” Beauty said solemnly.
“Beaute Centauri has never lied,” came in D’Ursu Magna. “He—”
“Hold,” cautioned Jarl to his ursine chieftain. “You will have the opportunity, D’Ursu Magna. I will first hear out the accused.”
D’Ursu looked chastised and was quiet. Jarl returned his gaze to Joshua. “The proof,” he prodded.
“There’s no proof but telling,” Josh spoke straightforwardly. “The three creatures killed my family, and kidnapped my brother, my bride, and Beauty’s wife. We set out in Venge-right and to recapture our own.” Here he produced a scroll from his Scribe-tube and handed it to Jarl. It was the copy of the letter of intent he’d buried in his yard the day he’d found his family murdered. It stated the circumstances of the hunt and it was dated.
Jarl cast an inconsequential glance at the paper, but did not take it. “We do not read here,” he growled.
Josh put the document back and continued. “We caught up with the assassins at the brothel. I spent time with a wood nymph named Meli who was with me until I tracked the Accident to the mill out back, and when Beauty and I got there, the Accident was dying—killed by his accomplices, he said. Your soldiers saw us there and mistook us for the killers. That’s what happened, and if you’re as great a Judge as they say, you’ll need no further proof.” He folded his arms across his chest.
D’Ursu looked aghast. Jarl smiled; then didn’t smile: “Revenge is not an animal virtue,” he intoned. There was a resounding pause.
Joshua tensed. If the axis around which these arguments revolved shifted from the specifics of a dead Accident to the ethics of Venge-right…
For the first time, Jasmine spoke. “If, as you say, King Jarl, Humans—like Accidents, Centaurs, and Bears—are animals, we must accept it as natural and evident that Human values are animal values; and hence Venge-right, a well-known Human virtue, must be an animal virtue as well. Which is not to say, of course, an animal mandate.”
Jarl turned his great head toward the beautiful Neuroman, addressing her with studied reserve. “You have not an animal smell, Sister. What is your part in this matter?”
She told him.
He listened intently, nodding. When she was finished, he said, “It is unusual, in my experience, for an Immortalist to risk so much on so insignificant an adventure.”
She seemed to bristle. “No more unusual than for a Great Bear to be lost so far south,” she said with some sarcasm, referring to Jarl’s apparent violation of the Doge’s territories. D’Ursu Magna’s whiskers twitched violently at her remark. “Besides,” Jasmine went on, “no adventure is insignificant when undertaken in the company of friends.”
Jarl laughed, a deep, booming chortle. “Well spoken, Immortalist. No fight alongside comrades is without merit. Nor am I lost.”
“Then the Doge no longer controls these lands?” she pressed.
D’Ursu Magna spat, but said nothing. Jarl’s look became serious, smoldering as a damp woodfire. “The Doge never controlled anything but his own piscivorous bowels. No animal does. It is Human arrogance to dream otherwise. Every animal controls itself and no other. Such is the nature of the beast. It is our renaissance to realize this.”
D’Ursu Magna snarled an emphatic Amen. Jasmine stroked her chin, as Josh and Beauty followed the exchange closely. “Then,” began Jasmine, “your intention is to move farther south still.”
“My intention is to move where I will, when I will, as the notion moves me. If there are others who wish to join me on my excursions, that is their prerogative and my honor. If any be shackled to the Doge, I will liberate them. If any try to stop my free and animal movement—I will give them something to remember the rest of their short lives.”
“Then your intention w to move south—against the Doge himself?”
“I have been camped in this wood for some time. I like it well here, at present.”
“But when your army grows—then you will move south?” she pushed.
D’Ursu became angry. “The Judge will do the interrogating at this tree!” he growled.
Jarl smiled. “As the spirit moves me. I may indeed move south.”
Jasmine backed off a bit to change directions. “I only ask, your Animal Honor, because, as you may be aware … there is a new animal in the south, whose intent seems to be focused on controlling other animals …”
“Of little concern …” Jarl gestured.
“But you just said …”
“Of little concern since, according to my information, only Humans are being coerced in this new animal’s attacks. And since this so-called new animal is certainly Human itself—since only Humans have ever evidenced such abnormal behavior—and since it is of little consequence to me what Humans do to each other, as long as their insanities and injustices do not spill over to harm other animals …” He let his sentence trail off, his conclusions obvious.
Beauty looked long on the Bear-King. “You can understand, though, your Honor, our need to catch these animals who have stolen our people. To save what is left of our families.” He spoke with the slow urgency that comes upon someone who must make another understand.
Jarl reflected, his eyes embers. When he spoke again, his gaze encompassed the group. “Hear me well. Of this murder I absolve you. You had purely the odor of truth about you as you spoke of it—I smelled no fear, nor yet deceit. On this other matter: I pray you—abandon your vendetta. Venge-right is a Human conceit and of no earthly value to right-thinking animals. Join instead with my merry band. We wander freely and without smallness of soul, and will do so until our contagion has spread through every forest and hill.”
His tone was sincere, his message heartfelt. D’Ursu Magna caught Beauty’s troubled stare with a look of intrigue. Josh was shaking his head solemnly. Jasmine forced the issue. “And if we do not wish to join you in your crusade? If we seek our own grail?”
Jarl, the Bear-King made an expansive sweep with his great paw. “Feel free to rest here in my camp as if it were your own. D’Ursu Magna will make it his passion to see to your comfort. Stay as long as you like until you decide—to join with me in the animal ways, or to choose the Human path—the arrogance of racial destiny, the self-destructiveness of greed, self-righteousness, and rationalization. I wil
l ask you tomorrow morning for your decision. I would ask now, but …”—singling out Joshua for a pointed stare—“I know it takes longer for Humans to decide what is right than for most other animals.”
With which he waved them all away, closed his eyes, and settled immediately into a state of brief but resplendent hibernation.
D’Ursu Magna ushered his charges back toward the center of the giant clearing. Here an enormous fire blazed, sending smoke and light up, finally through a hole cut out of the branches in the forest ceiling, seventy feet above them. Through this distant window stars could be seen sparkling in the black velvet sky. It was a clear night.
Josh looked around carefully for the first time. There was activity everywhere. Wrestling bouts between Bears occupied one center of attention, surrounded by a ring of noisy animals, jeering or cheering on their favorites. An archery contest was underway along the far alley. Humans and Ursumen were battling with sword-sticks against the tree-line, laughing and landing blows. Everywhere games.
“Neptune’s Middle Fin,” Jasmine exclaimed under her breath.
“I wish you would not use that expression,” muttered Beauty. Jasmine’s stature had grown in his esteem since she’d spoken so forthrightly to Jarl—so it bothered him even more now to hear her use such crass language.
“It offends you?” she asked in surprise.
“It is common. And you are not common.”
His criticism flattered her, in a left-handed way, and she made a mental note to try to hold her eclectic, polycultural vocabulary in check. She smiled to herself as D’Ursu began to show them around.
Near the great central fire, the biggest crowd seemed to be assembled. Jasmine, Beauty, Josh, and D’Ursu ambled through the jostling animals until they stood at the edge of the event: a large, torchlit space; a dramatic performance was underway.
