Primeval Origins : Paths of Anguish - Award Winning, New Epic Fantasy / Science Fiction (The Primeval Origins Saga Book 1)

by Brett Vonsik

  “If I catch you dazing, again,” Kardul threatened as he pointed a sheathed long knife at Rogaan’s chest, “especially while hunting, I’ll skin you alive and leave you to the Wilds.” With agitation, Kardul tossed the bow, quiver, and long knife at Rogaan. Fumbling to catch all three, Rogaan twisted and turned and juggled, finally meeting success, but less gracefully than he had wanted. Another Kiuri’Ner, standing next to Kardul, tossed a long spear and another sheathed long knife at Pax, who managed to drop both. Rogaan felt badly for his friend as some of the hunters chuckled, though the Kiuri’Ners remained stone-faced.

  Firik Umsadaa and the Kiuri’Ner began to bark orders for everyone to form up in loose columns at the sides of the wagons. Rogaan was relieved when Kantus and his Band stationed themselves in the column on the other side of the wagon...out of sight, and unable to do their usual taunting. Six wagons made up the caravan, stretching almost one hundred strides in all, each pulled by a single stout niisku. The lead wagon was open-topped and filled with supplies and folk to tend camp. Non-hunters sat on crates and sacks. Rogaan could only guess what filled them. Second in line was a high-topped hide canvas-covered wagon filled with cooking tools and supplies, followed by three low-sided wagons filled with sacks of what Rogaan believed to be salt from the smell of them -- and cutters, folk experienced in carving away the meat from tanniyn bones. The trailing wagon carried more folk: carriers, those with fewer smarts than muscle, to haul the meat the cutters stripped from the kills. Four baraan; Firik Umsadaa and the three Kiuri’Ner, now sitting atop leanly built sarigs, briskly approached the front of the line. In their saddles, they appeared supremely confident, no...arrogant, Rogaan realized. At the command of Firik Umsadaa, the line of wagons lurched forward and the columns of armed hunters started their march, guarding the caravan’s flanks.

  The march to the Valley of the Claw started orderly, with the hunters keeping loose columns despite the grueling pace set by Firik and the Kiuri’Ner. The wagons snaked along a heavily rutted packed-dirt road, winding their way through low mountain passes and red-rock cliffs peppered with long-needled pines rising as high as thirty strides, wide broadleaf trees even taller, and cedars half their heights. Ferns, shrubs, and flowers abounded. The niisku seemed untouched by their burdens, keeping a steady pace in flats and hills alike. It was a sight to see, impressing Rogaan with their power and stamina. Small featherwings flew about, but kept low to the trees, while the larger leatherwings patrolled the bright blue, cloudless sky of the morning and mid-day. Small green-feathered tanniyn darted about in the underbrush while keeping their distance from the caravan, occasionally chirping as wagons and people passed.

  Rogaan caught glimpses of larger tanniyn, leapers he thought, during the morning, but they swiftly disappeared into the shadows of the forest like daimons before he could get a good look at them. In the late morning, Rogaan stepped into a hole at the side of the road, causing him to stumble, almost falling as fatigue started to make his footsteps a little less certain. When he looked back at the hole, he realized it was a rounded footprint almost a stride across and more than a hand deep. He spotted more footprints among the knee-high ferns leading into a large grove of tall broadleaf trees towering over shorter cedars and ferns, all had nearly half their limbs stripped of leaves or trampled flat to the ground. Rogaan felt a surge of fear and excitement as he looked for the animals that had left the tracks. His excitement soon faded as the march continued without the fortune of spotting one of these giants. His fear of the unknown Wilds stayed with him, at the edge of his thoughts.

  The march continued without break into the late afternoon. Most of the hunters were wearily trudging, struggling to keep up with the wagons and those relentless niisku that somehow continued on at the same steady pace they had started with in the morning. Several of the hunters had recently collapsed. They were unceremoniously tossed into the back of the last wagon by other bone-weary hunters at the orders of Firik. The caravan did not slow in the least for those fallen, nor for those with the task of gathering them up. Still, some of the hunters, those at the front, showed little or no sign of fatigue from the day-long march. Rogaan had long since stopped looking at the countryside, instead concentrating on Pax’s back almost three strides in front of him. Pax appeared to be struggling to keep pace with the wagons, shuffling his feet at times and sometimes tripping, but still able to keep his feet. Pax was stubborn and Rogaan doubted he would give Kantus the pleasure of seeing him lying on the ground, gasping for breath. Rumbles from Rogaan’s innards reminded him that he had not eaten since the morning meal. He began to wonder how much longer they would march. Dusk? Through the night? No. Surely they would not force a march through the night? Rogaan feared asking, since he already felt certain of the answer. Despite wanting to join the Hunt since as long as he could remember, Rogaan found himself starting to reconsider his wants.

  They marched on, right past Rogaan’s evening meal time, causing his stomach to protest, loudly, almost with each step, but he stopped caring about it some time ago, and now focused only on wiping sweat from his eyes and placing one foot in front of the other. Dripping sweat and looking every bit exhausted, with a darkened, slung face, Pax starting falling off pace. Trudging, Pax pushed on, refusing to give up. Rogaan felt for his friend and admired his stubbornness, but occasionally needed to help him to keep up with the wagons and the other hunters. Tired, Rogaan surprisingly felt well enough to march on -- indefinitely, he thought -- while most about him appeared more like Pax. They marched on with their burdens getting heavier. Pax had been using his spear to keep upright since mid-afternoon; now it was all he could do just to drag it behind him.

  They marched on. Rogaan found his thoughts wandering, with visions of Suhd popping into his head. He felt a smile grow at the vision of her sweet face, and especially of her walking away with her swaying backside, glancing over her shoulder at him from time to time. Rogaan bumped into something, causing him to stumble before catching his feet as Pax slipped from his supporting hand and collapsed to the ground with a thud. Rogaan looked about to see what he had struck. Another hunter, a grizzled, gray-bearded man in his middle years who had been walking ahead of him, was bent over with hands braced on knees, doing his best to not fall over.

  A wave of panic washed over Rogaan, fear of being left behind. Looking around, Rogaan found the entire column halted, with most of the hunters bent over or sprawled on the ground. A sense of relief filled him as he exhaled strongly. Quickly, Rogaan stiffened his back, trying to look unaffected by the march. He wanted the Kiuri’Ner to see him undefeated and strong, but his body betrayed him when a stitch of pain racked his left side, forcing his hands to his knees.

  “Not a poor showing, youngling,” Kardul complimented from atop his sarig. Rogaan struggled to straighten himself and turned to face the Kiuri’Ner. He wanted to say something to impress Kardul, but nothing except for the desire to breathe came to him. Kardul smirked before urging his sarig up the column while shouting insults and orders. Rogaan frowned at Kardul’s back. All he wanted was rest -- sleep, really, but he knew camp set-up would come first.

  Chapter 4

  Valley of the Claw

  Rogaan woke with a sharp pain in his side. Grimacing, he rolled to stretch his ribs and rid himself of the cramping muscles, but managed only to toss off his blanket. Shivering against the chill air, and confused, Rogaan opened his eyes to see where he was. A lightless abyss engulfed him. Panic gripped his chest, jolting him upright, and his body shook visibly if anyone were to look. Darkness! Alone? Rogaan fought to regain his self-control, push away his panic by seeking something -- anything -- to focus his eyes on. Slowly a moonless valley came into poor focus in the gloomy pre-dawn. I’m lost? He caught sight of a dark figure approaching from out of deep shadows. I must get hold of myself before anyone sees me! Rogaan stared at the figure, trying to focus on the form as his heart wildly beat. Focus. Breath. Rogaan sucked in deep breaths and exhaled. His heart slowed. With his wits returni
ng, he squinted at the person nearing, making out vague features…Kardul. Rogaan found himself exhaling so strongly with relief that it hurt.

  “Rise time, youngling,” Kardul ordered, too enthusiastically. “Day is wasting. Get yourself ready and be at the lead wagon before I get there. And wake that friend of yours. Get moving.” Kardul slipped into the shadows and out of sight, without a sound. How does such a big man manage that? Rogaan wondered. Rogaan realized the pain in his side was gone, though the glee of being free of it was cut short by the darkness pressing in on him, again. At least distant cook fires were visible to push back the gloom, some. A small help, at least, for Rogaan in his battle. Using the breathing trick taught to him by his mother, he gained a little relief at first, but as he persevered he slowly started winning the struggle with himself. Rogaan further sought to distract himself by trying to remember anything of last night. Vague images of the camp flashed in his mind, but it all seemed a dream to him, now. Hoping Pax was awake and ready to talk, Rogaan looked for his friend and found him curled up under a blanket nearby, sound asleep, and snoring lightly, though his snoring was quiet compared to several others in camp.

  “Wake up!” Rogaan shook Pax lightly. Pax responded by rolling onto his side with a few snorts. The darkness pressed in on Rogaan again. Forcing himself to ignore the lack of light and the a few buzzing bloodsuckers, Rogaan rose with a deliberate stretch, then rubbed his face, trying to fully wake up while pretending the darkness lifted. A small smile came to Rogaan before he kicked Pax’s backside. “Wake up!”

  Pax rolled and bounced up to his knees with a short knife in each hand. He glanced left, then right, looking for trouble, but only found Rogaan smiling back. “Why ya kickin’ me?”

  “Kardul ordered us to the lead wagon, with haste,” Rogaan eagerly replied, eager to be with others in the dark and to get his first hunt started. Excited, he gathered his equipment, shoving things hastily into his carry pack, all the while trying to ignore the darkness that still pressed at him. Rogaan’s muscles protested with every move, and with a stiffness he seldom experienced. The march yesterday really taxed him, as he was not used to it. Rogaan looked to see if Pax was up and moving. His friend was gathering equipment, but slower than Rogaan wished. “Hurry, Pax. I do not think Kardul will be understanding if he is made to wait.”

  “I be hungry,” Pax complained. “Rogaan, do ya have any of da dried meat we made?”

  “Yes,” Rogaan replied in a questioning tone. “Why? Where is yours?”

  Pax sat unmoving for a moment. He looked to be thinking -- about what, Rogaan could only guess. Days earlier they had dried enough meat strips to last each of them five days and then some. Rogaan had other rations packed too, mill bread and nuts, but little else. Pax looked to be struggling with words to speak. Unusual. “I have me a day of meat left.”

  “How?” Rogaan asked, not certain he had heard right.

  “I had some before da Hunt,” Pax sheepishly answered while returning his attention back to his equipment. “And...I had me some more yesterday. And...I gave some ta Suhd. Ya can no blame me for givin’ me sister some?”

  Rogaan groaned and rolled his eyes. No surprise at Pax’s lack of preparation. Pax had a poor head when it came to planning and then sticking to the plan. With a slight chuckle, Rogaan tossed a day’s ration of dried meat to his friend. “Try not to eat it all before mid-day -- and hope we kill us an eater, or we will both go hungry.”

  They quickly collected their things then made way to the wagon and Kardul. Rogaan walked nervously, the darkness continued pressing in on him with him fighting it back in his head, while vigorously scanning the path ahead for things, though he was not certain what. Not surprisingly, Pax was chewing a piece of dried meat as they walked. Rogaan felt his stomach rumble. The smell of wild herbs and meat on cook fires made Rogaan’s stomach protest loudly several more times at his lack of eating, though he was more focused on seeing what was ahead. The fires they passed pushed back the darkness enough for Rogaan to make out forms of folk, beasts, and stacked equipment -- not perfectly focused, but enough to know where folks and things were and what folks were doing. All were quietly going about their morning rituals and chores, with the constant song of hoppers and buzzing biters drowning out conversations. Pax acted as if he saw everything just as well, but Rogaan knew better of his friend, who followed closely on his heels for reasons other than getting to Kardul.

  The camp was laid out in an orderly way with the wagons forming a semi-circle on the far side. Bedrolls tucked under the wagon where the helpers slept were all now empty. Niiskus and sarigs were tethered at the far end of the wagon line, opposite the camp and cook fires -- downwind, mostly -- and Rogaan was thankful for it. The smell of the fires and cooking became more intense as they went, but did not completely cover up the odor of the tethered beasts. Ahead, a fire burned between the last two wagons closest to the animals, with a dozen or so hunters milling around it. All were talking and eating. Beyond, more folks surrounded another fire near the last wagon. Rogaan guessed Kardul was at the closer of the two. As they drew near, the smell of cooked meats and spiced drink made Rogaan’s stomach ache and grumble all the more. No longer able to put his hunger out of his head, he pulled several strips of dried meat from his pocket and gobbled them down.

  “You two didn’t return to your tender dreams…good,” Kardul, standing among the hunters, sardonically taunted. An attendant took a large wooden bowl from him then retired into the darkness between the wagons. Kardul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then rubbed his hand on his armored thigh while eyeing Rogaan and Pax as they approached. “What have you hunted before today?”

  Rogaan hesitated in answering. He felt his face heat in embarrassment that he had little in the way of real experience. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to answer…honestly, but was cut off.

  “I thought as much,” Kardul flatly stated. Grabbing his spear and bow, he started off into the surreal dark landscape of the waking dawn. “Come along, you three. Maybe you’ll learn something of the Wilds. Then again, maybe you won’t live to see the sun at high.”

  Rogaan looked to Pax, who stood with a blank stare back at him. He then looked to find who this third was that Kardul spoke of. Nobody stood out except a middle-aged, grizzled gray-bearded hunter, whom Rogaan recalled seeing doubled over last night, and who stood quietly at the edge of the campfire light. The leanly built man had neatly combed black hair streaked with gray, and his face was that of stone, betraying nothing of his thoughts. He stood tall, almost as tall as Rogaan, with dark hide armor of a design unfamiliar to Rogaan, high-laced sandals, a short tan cloak, and a small carry-pack about his waist. A spear in his hand and a long knife secured to his wide belt were the only weapons Rogaan could see. The man stood quietly, studying Rogaan as if he were prey.

  “What be he lookin’ at?” Pax asked.

  “Me, I think,” Rogaan replied. He stared back at the hunter for long moments, hoping to learn something of him. The grizzled man just returned the stare without flinching, causing Rogaan to feel uneasy. “Gray-beard can do as he wishes. I want a kill to prove my worth to the Kiuri’Ner. Let’s get traveling, Pax.”

  They set off after Kardul, who now was lost to their sight somewhere ahead -- Rogaan hoped he was ahead -- and for this darkness to be burnt away by the daylight. Not long after they set off at a trot to the northeast, Rogaan thought, the darkness did start giving way to the rays of the morning sun rising ahead. Pink wispy clouds became visible against a gray-blue sky above, as the songs of featherwings started overtaking those of the hoppers. Dark silhouettes of what Rogaan knew to be otherwise colorfully plumed featherwings sat in the top reaches of trees ranging from cone-shaped broadleafs ten strides tall to sporadic oval giants three times that. Dawn was about to break, and Rogaan felt great relief for it. They slowed to a walk as they passed through a grove of tall oaks and squat ferns, arriving on the other side at a cliff overlooking a deep dark expanse. Nothing of detail cou
ld be seen below. It was a void of blackness…the Pit of Kur. Rogaan’s stomach turned and he feared for a moment he would be sick. A stick cracked somewhere behind, close. Rogaan spun around with his heart racing wildly and vision blurred, distorted. He almost lost his balance and fell over before he widened his stance a bit to steady himself. Out of the gloom strode gray-beard, confident and bold-stepping. The man watched Rogaan intently as he approached, stopping at the edge of the cliff as boldly as he walked. He kept silent.

  “Who are you?” Rogaan asked cautiously.

  “Of no concern to you,” he replied flatly while scanning the darkness below, then the forest about them. The man seemed to look in all directions at once, and showed an awareness Rogaan had missed earlier. The hairs on the back of Rogaan’s neck bristled when the nameless hunter glanced at him. An almost sneering glance from gray-beard, which Rogaan caught in the briefest of moments, just gave him the shivers.

  “Ya no look like someone of no concern ta me,” Pax spat, almost challengingly. The hunter showed no reaction to Pax’s words, nor gave any indication that he even cared Pax existed.

  Rogaan decided he wanted nothing of this intrigue. He wanted only to hunt and prove his worth to the Kiuri’Ner, and he was not going to make that happen if he and Pax were fighting with one of their hunting party. Resolved to not cause strife, Rogaan lightly grasped Pax’s arm, then spoke. “What my friend is saying is that you look to be with much experience, and he wondered if you hunted before?”

  “I did?” Pax asked Rogaan quizzically.

  The hunter only tossed Rogaan a smirk then scanned the area around them again. Gray-beard then placed his hands on his hips -- more relaxed, but only slightly. Rogaan tried, but was not able to shake his uneasy feeling about the baraan. Mystery and intrigue seemed to fill the air about him of late, and he found himself worrying about nearly everything. Another shiver passed as quickly as it came, as a slight breeze blew from the deep gloom below, carrying the heavy scent of fetid animal dung and rotting flesh. It caused Rogaan to wrinkle his nose at the strong stench. Pax placed his hand over his mouth and nose, while making a prolonged gag. Gray-beard only wrinkled his nose and blinked hard several times.