by Brett Vonsik
Rogaan scrambled backwards on his hands and feet away from the maw of spikes. The redfin seemed to grow more agitated at his withdrawal, and urinated on the ground just this side of the carcass. Rogaan rolled to a crouch not more than fifteen strides from the toothy maw as the beast charged. Rogaan’s mind reeled with unwanted images of teeth, blood, and crushed bones. His head painfully pounded with each beat of his heart. Pushing away the pain, Rogaan drew his long knife. It was a futile gesture, but it made him feel better for some reason. Rogaan watched the redfin charge, the beast moving slowly enough for him to plan a desperate move just as the beast’s jaws gaped, readying to snap them shut, crushing him. Taking advantage of the redfin’s poor sight with its jaws open, Rogaan spun left to the beast’s side, stabbing its vile snout, sinking his blade in near its right nostril as the jaws clapped shut with a booming pop. The beast jerked its head left, pulling free of the long knife as it stopped its charge. Rogaan found himself crouching close to the beast’s right foot. The redfin recovered quickly, twisting its neck and fixing its right eye on Rogaan, then gaped its jaws open as it pivoted right and crouched with straining muscles as Rogaan backed away. The redfin was readying itself to launch at Rogaan, who now stood two strides from the ravine wall, with nowhere to go to escape death. He was trapped. I’m out of luck and light!
Rogaan wanted to jump, run, something, but found his arms and legs paralyzed with fear. The redfin reared back, opening its jaws even wider. Victory was to the Wilds, and Rogaan resolved himself to fade away where he stood. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, waiting for the inevitable crushing agony of those jaws slamming shut on him. Nothing. Nothing happened. He opened his left eye, afraid of what he would see, expecting teeth to be his full vision. Surprisingly, the redfin was snapping at strange-looking fireflies buzzing about its head. Praise the Ancients! Astonished and relieved that he still lived, Rogaan sharply sucked in a breath and found his arms and legs able to move. Without thinking too hard on his options, Rogaan ran to Pax at the beast’s left, hoping his friend was alive, vowing Pax would not become the redfin’s meal. In a breath everything changed, the world started moving rapidly, again. Rogaan felt as if he were in water for all the faster he could move, and he suddenly felt ravenously hungry. Shaking off his pains of hunger and disorientation, he grabbed his friend to haul him over his shoulder and carry him up the cliff, but Pax stirred. Rogaan mumbled aloud with shocked relief. “He’s alive!”
“What happenin’?” Pax groaned, and wearily sat up.
“Ah…later, Pax,” Rogaan answered while stealing a quick look at the redfin to make sure he was still occupied.
Rogaan pulled Pax up to his knees, but Pax held up his hand, signaling Rogaan to stop. Pain was clearly on Pax’s face as he tried to catch his breath. Rogaan feared the redfin would be on them any moment, so he hauled Pax up to his feet and to the nearest dangling rope, wrapped it under Pax’s arms and around his chest several times, then handed him the loose end. “Hold tight.”
“What?” Pax managed to groan while looking confused.
With a wave of Rogaan’s hand, Pax was hauled up fast by countless others atop the ravine wall. Several workers not pulling ropes frantically waved to get Rogaan’s attention, pointing behind him. Fear froze Rogaan. He did not want to look knowing it would be bad. That rotting stench engulfed Rogaan, making his stomach reel and wanting to sick-up, again, as much from fear as the foul acrid odor. Spinning to look doom in the eye, he came face-to-face with the redfin’s maw, a stride from him. The fireflies were gone and the beast was no longer distracted, though it appeared a bit confused. It shook its head before settling its gaze back on Rogaan, then lowered itself; crouching, with muscles rippling, the redfin looked ready to pounce. A prickling sensation rippled through Rogaan as if needles poked him everywhere, and the stench of the redfin’s breath turned putrid, causing Rogaan to gag back the urge to let his stomach loose, again. The redfin’s movements slowed as the beast inhaled before letting out a roar that sounded and felt…off…to Rogaan: low in pitch and drawn-out. The stench choked him, almost overwhelming him. Rogaan gagged and swallowed, again. How can anything smell so foul? The beast reared back to strike -- unnaturally slowly.
Rogaan readied himself for another spin, hoping to make the redfin miss and give himself enough room to run. Before the beast could strike, something fell between them, striking the ground with a thud. Akaal! Shocked, Rogaan stared at the motionless, twisted body. He looked lightless…but then, so had Pax. Rogaan looked up seeking answers to forming questions. Pax was almost safely to the top, with workers still hauling him up. Wearing a look of satisfaction, Kardul stood at the cliff’s edge, hands on hips. Had Kardul tossed Akaal? Rogaan looked back at Akaal, who now struggled with unsteady legs and arm, trying to rise to his feet. Without warning, Akaal was hammered to the ground by the redfin’s maw. A horrific scream escaping Akaal as the unmistakable sound of the crunch of bones being obliterated echoed in the ravine. His broken and bloody body finally fell silent when the redfin’s jaws closed on his head and neck with another loud crunch.
Shocked at the fragility of Akaal’s body, Rogaan stood frozen. What do I do? The redfin slammed its jaws shut again; the crunching sound of Akaal’s chest collapsing made Rogaan’s stomach turn, but shook him into action. Run! Climb! Rogaan turned and jumped at the nearest rope, climbing as fast as he could -- hand over hand, and digging his boots into the rock wall hard, propelling himself upward. Rogaan started rising quicker than from his own efforts. The world around him returned to normal…faster, and he felt as if he were in water, again, for all the faster he moved. Another powerful urge to sick-up struck him. Fearing what was about to come, Rogaan wrapped the rope around his left wrist and hung on tight as he suffered violent convulsions. He lost count of his convulsions and felt weak -- and disgustingly enough, he felt hungry.
Wearily, he looked up to find those above continuing to haul on his rope. Rogaan gave thanks to all of them under his breath as he clung to the rope with his left hand, now without making any effort to pull himself up. He felt exhausted. Several strides from the top, Rogaan looked back at the bloody carnage below. The last of Akaal was getting gulped down by the redfin. That could have been me or Pax. Hands grabbed at him, hauling him over the edge of the cliff and out of the ravine. After a few moments of lying face down in the dirt, Rogaan struggled to his feet, straightening his posture in a weary effort. Looking up, he stared into the tilted, radiant green eyes of a baraan with a short trimmed yellow-white beard that matched in color his straight shoulder-length hair. The baraan’s face seemed odd somehow, with a slender nose and chiseled features that were not common to these parts. The baraan’s build was taller and more slender than average and wiry. He had a powerful grip. Rogaan felt it as he had helped him to his feet. In all, the baraan was not so different from a group of strangers that had traveled through Brigum some time ago, but different enough to notice, though Rogaan could not say why he thought so. The baraan dressed as a carrier, no different from the rest. Though, he seemed out of place…something in the way he carried himself… too self-confident. Rogaan tried to place him in age-older than himself, maybe close to thirty, maybe more…it was difficult to gauge. Rogaan suddenly felt weary and shook his head with eyes closed to try reviving himself. Why bother about the baraan’s age? It does not matter.
“I am grateful,” Rogaan told the stranger honestly after opening his eyes. The carrier simply bowed his head slightly in response. His eyes are far too confident and he stands too tall, maybe even prideful. Rogaan could not pin it down. Something....
“Rogaan!” Pax said in a chipper tone. “I be thinkin’ ya not gonna make it. Ya gave me a scare.”
Rogaan’s face warmed at Pax’s words, “You would have done the same for me.”
Rogaan looked back for the carrier, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where did he go? Why does it matter? Rogaan’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he felt hungry and tired. A loud crunch below drew everyone
s attention down into the ravine. The redfin tore into the longwalker’s carcass, breaking its bones as it feasted. A quick glance at Kardul confirmed for Rogaan that the Kiuri’Ner was satisfied about something. Did Kardul push him?
“Pax,” Rogaan whispered. “Something is wrong.”
“What da ya mean?” Pax whispered back. “This be all wrong today.”
Rogaan looked for the carrier, again. Where did the baraan disappear to? He then looked back at Kardul, who was thanking the cutters and carriers for their good work. “Something is very wrong.”
Chapter 7
Coming Home
The sun burned brilliantly in the northwest sky as clouds relented temporarily, opening a hole allowing bright rays of warmth to bathe Rogaan, forcing him to shield his eyes with hand and look down at the rutted trail to keep from being blinded with eye spots. Rogaan was tired, and struggled to keep pace with the creaking and groaning wagons at his left despite their heavy loads slowing them -- rewards of the Hunt: longwalker and fern runner meat and skins, all heavily salted. The blue and orange sky signaled the closing of another day and brought with it a waning in the heat, along with a little help from a mild breeze blowing off the craggy peaks of the Spine Range to the north. The scent of wild flowers and early-season tree blooms hung heavy on the breeze, but did little to mask the smell of trail dust and the overbearing musk of niiskus. The rugged mountains ran almost the length of Shuruppak, splitting the land north and south, from near the capital city of Ur, far to the east to Turil and the Tellen Nation on Shuruppak’s western border -- beyond the deepest of the Wilds.
Scattering clouds, a mix of darkened masses and wispy feather-like structures burned hues of orange against the dark ridges to the north. Absent in the sky, large leatherwings, soaring high on the last updrafts of the day searching for prey or the lightless to scavenge. Instead, the sky was punctuated with colorful featherwings and small leatherwings, fighting for ownership of the space above the trees. Deep shadows engulfed ridges blanketed in pines and broadleafs, where red-rock outcrops were making Rogaan feel unease that something sinister lurked. The shadows played tricks on his eyes and mind, at times fooling him into giving alarm of things not there, while veiling others until they emerged from the gloom in a surprise. A short time earlier, Rogaan called alarm to a danger from leapers he thought followed them in a close tree line. Tricks of the shadows cast by wind rustled trees and ferns in the wind. He was embarrassed into silence after the Kiuri’Ner reacted to the phantom threat, and suffered their glares when the threat proved nonexistent. Not alone, others too called false dangers, leaving most in the caravan now paying little heed to such alarms.
Increasingly, Rogaan felt weary and wanted to see Brigum and be in his home, and his fears were dulling with his single-minded focus to get there. Looking about, it seemed others felt the same -- especially Pax, with dark sunken eyes and a blank expression to accompany his weary, yet steady gait. Rogaan was unsure if Pax suffered from red-face, that was typical for him with the early season blooms, or if the Hunt had truly taken a toll on him. Everyone had stepped close to losing their lights to darkness…too close, Rogaan thought. The Hunt lost several hunters to leapers after that first day. Now, all who returned seemed hardened from the Wilds in the short time they stepped outside the safety of Brigum’s walls.
Firik and the Kiuri’Ner worked the lines of the weary from atop their sarigs, demanding that they keep pace with the wagons. The return to Brigum, now in its second day, was slower going than the day-long forced march to the valley. After days of hard hunting in dangerous land the slow journey back seemed as difficult as that first day’s trek. For Rogaan, that eastward march seemed a lifetime ago. Much had happened. With eyes raised to the sky, Rogaan quietly thanked the Ancients that Firik had not demanded a forced march for the return. Blistered feet painfully annoyed Rogaan, causing him to wince and limp a little with each step. He tried his best to put the pain from of his mind, but weariness made it nearly impossible, so he sought distractions by scanning the surrounding forest and heights, looking for dangers. Packs of small gray-green feathered leapers, sporting red head and neck plumes, paralleled them, stalking and testing the caravan’s defenses and retreating with angry chirps, squawks, and hisses when chased off...which the hunters did often early on. Cutters and carriers walking alongside the hunters also struggled to keep pace with the wagons carrying the successes of the Hunt and those wounded badly enough to keep from walking. The injured numbered half a dozen in all, and were being fussed over in the wagon nearest Rogaan by several Healers -- brought along at the insistence of Firik. Pax somehow discovered that last bit of information and revealed it to Rogaan. Pungent odors from salves and foul elixirs wafted around the wagon as they treated the wounded, causing Rogaan to recall the care of Healers in his youthful days. A grimace came to his face. Given the odors and memories, he was uncertain if he would be willing to take those medicines, again, even if he were sick with the shakes or bite-rot or worse. And from the expressions of those now getting healing, Rogaan felt content to walk instead of ride in the wagon…blisters and all.
Out of arrows, Rogaan now carried a spear, using it more as a walking stick than weapon. His bow case slung on his back was light a few very expensive arrowheads that Rogaan did not know how he would confess their loss to his father. Pax too used his spear as Rogaan did, though he made no effort to hide his weariness, heavily leaning on it at every opportunity while Rogaan did his best to appear strong and capable when in sight of the Kiuri’Ner. The few days of the Hunt had given him the opportunity to demonstrate his skills, and he hoped they were enough, though not a word of encouragement was spoken to Rogaan by Kardul or any of his Kiuri’Ner.
Surprisingly, Kantus and his Band kept to themselves since the fern runner incident. Rogaan welcomed the respite from their taunting, though he had a guilty sense of satisfaction when he looked at Kantus ahead of him, limping. At the start of the return, Firik offered Kantus the opportunity to join the wounded in the wagons, but he refused, astonishingly. In fact, Kantus’ reply was so indignant that Firik rewarded him and his Band with extra equipment to carry from the wounded, which would otherwise have been left behind. As expected, Kantus protested indignantly and arrogantly, telling Firik he would deal with his father. Firik dismissed the threats casually, and that seemed to darken Kantus’ mood. After that exchange, Kantus and his Band fell strangely quiet, but visibly fuming as they shot darting glares at Firik, and at Rogaan and Pax for good measure, it seemed.
Rogaan’s thoughts drifted with the monotony of the walking pace. He reflected on the strangeness of past few days. Something was not right. Rogaan felt it, but could not point to what made him feel so. Adding to it, the Kiuri’Ner looked at him oddly every now and then, almost as if they knew something he should know, but did not. Kardul was the worst of them, though Rogaan was not certain how to take the baraan, as he had taught him much of the Wilds and how to survive it, even when he did not appear to be teaching. Rogaan thought Pax had learned just as much, despite his friend’s insistence to the contrary and, of course, complaints when corrected by anyone. Akaal was a different matter. That baraan weighed heavily on Rogaan’s thoughts. Several nights of dreams bordering on the bizarre made Rogaan even more suspicious of him, though details of the dreams faded away quickly and now were unclear. All that remained was a sense of dread he felt just before waking this morning that had stayed with him since. He tried confiding in Pax, telling him about his dreams and his suspicions concerning Akaal. Pax listened to him without interrupting -- odd for Pax -- but his friend then dismissed it all as guilt for not trying more to save the baraan, though Pax seemed unconvinced even at his own words and over Akaal’s gruesome return to darkness.
Not long after his confession, Rogaan caught sight of Pax speaking to Kardul, who rode beside Pax briefly after checking on the wounded. Despite dismissing Rogaan’s conspiracies, Pax looked to be confronting the Kiuri’Ner with them. Kardul half-listened before
dismissing Pax’s assertion with a wave of his hand and riding off, leaving Pax in a bit of a brood. When Rogaan confronted Pax about his talk with Kardul, Pax flatly told him he wanted to know the truth of things, especially if someone wished them harm. Pax put on one of his sly smiles and told Rogaan that the Kiuri’Ner said he was not a fool, given the events, but recommended Rogaan spend his time thinking of the here and now. Rogaan felt his cheeks warm at his friend’s asking and covering for him. Pax was not known for his selflessness. Rogaan was thankful for Pax’s asking and keeping him from possibly harming his standing with Kardul.
To Rogaan, the events of the Hunt just did not fit. He hoped he had succeeded in showing enough promise for the Kiuri’Ner, but the rest of the happenings were troubling. Try as he might, he could not piece events together so that they made sense: his father allowing him to join the Hunt after forbidding it for so long, then his father’s sudden journey away from Brigum -- a rare occasion; Kantus’ ominous declaration that he would soon be nothing but a memory; the broken bow; Akaal’s attempt to kill Pax or him or both; Kardul’s seeming satisfied at Akaal’s death; that out-of-place worker who disappeared right after Akaal’s death...and nobody remembering the baraan when Rogaan asked of him…and Kardul’s off treatment of him since. Separately, they were just happenings; together…they were strange coincidences, yet nothing seemed to fit. Pax was little help, shrugging off Rogaan’s worries, telling him he thought too much about things and remaining unconvinced of conspiracies despite Rogaan’s insistence that something was wrong. Frustrated, Rogaan lost himself in deep thought, trying to figure out what he was missing.
