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

by Brett Vonsik

  Sometime later when he crested a rise on the trail, he absently looked up and was surprised to see Brigum coming into sight. Deep in the shadows of the narrow valley ahead, the town’s stone walls, towers, and bridge were almost lost without the direct rays of sun to illuminate them, and also in the glare of the closing hour of the day on the mountain ridges to the northwest. With hands raised, shielding their eyes from the setting sun, the lot of them looked westward, trying to steal glimpses of their homes. There was movement in the shadows at Brigum’s Hunter’s and Coiner Quarter’s Gates; the town’s Tusaa’Ner in their sky-blue uniforms under dark shoulder and chest armor, and bright red and yellow belt sashes stood watch on the walls, with guardsmen standing tall every two or three strides with their spears pointing skyward. All were in full dress with helms sporting short red feather plumes. What now? War?

  “Too many guards,” Pax flatly stated.

  “Still say I think too much?” Rogaan gave Pax a tight-lipped, sardonic smile. Pax kept silent in spite of the verbal jab. His friend merely returned a playfully confused look as the caravan approached the eastern edge of Brigum. With each step, Rogaan grew more anxious because of his unsanctioned use of the shunir’ra. Touching the encased bow slung on his back, he wondered if the trouble was worth it as a wave of guilt and shame swept over him. Very soon, he would need to explain his decisions to his parents -- why he took the bow against father’s wishes. Worse, he feared his father and mother would no longer trust him. Silly to hope their trust in me would remain. He knew this was to be before he removed it from its hiding place, but it was only now that the full weight of that decision struck him. His stomach soured. Rogaan began seriously questioning his actions, his motivations, his desires, his impetuous and selfish missteps, and found himself...wanting. Almost in a panic, he started drawing deep breaths, trying to find calm and clear his thoughts. His panic swelled, making his head whirl and chest feel as if it were about to burst. He tried more breathing tricks…they did little to help. How to mend this with Father? Can I ever fix this? Rogaan began hoping for some miracle to avoid the inevitable, and found himself wishing he had not taken his shunir’ra in the first place. How can I fix this and keep their trust?

  The caravan creaked and rumbled its way toward the Brigum, the pace faster now with the town in sight. Firik Umsadaa spurred his sarig ahead of the wagons, trotting his steed to the gates, where he was met by the Brigum Tusaa’Ner Sakal, the commander dressed in full sky-blue uniform, plumed helm, and cape – both red with yellow stripes. Another guardsman, shorter by a head, was dressed in a uniform similar in style to the Watchers of Brigum, but of darker blue and with a solid red sash, helm plumage, and cape. Rogaan became curious; the newcomer looked to be Tusaa’Ner.

  Firik exchanged words with the two. It started out simple enough, but soon turned animated, with Firik waving, agitated, and pointing back at the caravan before shaking his fist at the pair. Nearly everyone in the caravan watched the heated exchange grow to a fever seemingly with each word. Few took the exchange as trouble. Fools. Rogaan’s concern elevated as he traded glances with Pax. Rogaan started his breathing drills, again, to help calm himself. The pair of Kiuri’Ner riding at the head of the caravan brought their sarigs to a halt near Coiner Quarter Gate, stopping short of where they intended at a raised hand from Kardul. Rogaan realized they too were on edge and readying to spring into action at Kardul’s command. Following suit, the wagons halted behind them in single file on the rutted, hard-packed dirt road snaking eastward from the gates. Dust and the pungent odors of sarig, niisku, and folk swirled about the caravan, forcing Rogaan to wrinkle his nose and suppress a strong urge to sneeze and another to cough.

  Looking up after getting himself under control, Rogaan saw Firik and the Tusaa’Ner joined by a contingent of eight soldiers in dark blue armor, helms, and red belt sashes at the back of the shortest of the Tusaa’Ner. The eight halted their approach just short of a spear length at a sharp bark of the short red-caped guardsman nearest Firik. The bark was higher-pitched than Rogaan expected. He looked to Pax with raised brows. Pax just shrugged then returned his attention to the activity at the gate. That guardsman commander is a…a woman. Rogaan had read and heard of women as soldier aides, but not leading a troupe. Never such a thing! Surprised, fascinated, and with a growing curiosity, Rogaan forgot his troubles and focused on the arguing trio: Firik, the Brigum Tusaa’Ner commander, the Seergal, and the guardswoman Sakal. The red belt sash nagged at Rogaan. It meant something, but the answer eluded him. Then he recalled reading Father’s book about the colors of Shuruppak…red marked the guardsmen as...Farratum’s Tusaa’Ner. His pride in recalling this fact was washed away by his confusion. What are Farratum guardsmen doing here?

  Excitement quickly replaced Rogaan’s confusion and unease. He wanted to meet the Farratum Tusaa’Ner, but feared looking a fool. Hunters and workers alike suddenly started moving about, blocking his view of the gate area as they tended to wagons, animals, and equipment…seemingly doing anything not to draw attention to themselves for gawking, all as they stole nervous glances at the heated scene ahead of the caravan. Frustrated at having his view blocked, Rogaan grumbled a few choice words as he jumped about to see what was happening with Firik and the Tusaa’Ner. Exciting! I hope I can meet them. What is all of this about? Rogaan’s hopes were dashed when the exchange between Firik and the short red-caped sakal turned foul, and it looked as if Firik were losing the argument. The guardswoman’s head canted slightly at Firik’s words, allowing her shoulder-length braids of light-colored hair to dangle before violently whirling them in a head shake as she growled something back at the baraan. She stood at arm’s length from Firik with fists now firmly on her hips, showing no intent of backing down. For a long moment, Rogaan thought she might launch herself at Firik with fists swinging, from the way she started to carry on. The guardsmen accompanying her did not flinch despite everything happening. They stood stiff-backed in silence, with spears firmly planted, ready to do her bidding when she commanded so. Kardul dismounted and walked with confidence, approaching Firik and the sakals. The Farratum guardsmen showed him little interest as he neared, simply watching him as leapers watched prey. Not more than a few moments after joining Firik and the sakals, Kardul found himself drawn deeply into argument, and seemed to fare no better than Firik, to judge by the way the red-caped sakal met his stare and lashed both of them with her sharp tongue. Try as they might, Kardul and Firik were unable to utter more than a few words when she paused to take a breath, before hurling another verbal onslaught at them. At a statement made by Kardul, the red-caped sakal snapped her fingers, sending guardsmen surrounding Firik and Kardul with spears ready to strike. Kardul’s two Kiuri’Ner were off their sarigs in a blink and moving to flank the guardsmen. They held their attack, standing with hands on hilts once in position, waiting for a sign from Kardul to launch themselves at whoever he directed them to.

  “This is not how I expected my first meeting with the Farratum Tusaa’Ner to be.” Rogaan spoke aloud before he realized he said it.

  “How’d ya think it ta be?” Pax asked with a deliberate blink of disbelief before his face grew a scowl. “Wait...Farratum? What be they doin’ here? War or somethin’?”

  “Their colors are Farratum’s,” Rogaan answered.

  Captivated, Rogaan and Pax stared at the spectacle. The arguments raged for a few more moments before Kardul turned sharply, then walked back to the caravan, shaking his head in either disgust or frustration -- Rogaan was not sure which. Kardul spoke to the Kiuri’Ner as he passed their positions. Their postures softened, almost. Kardul halted facing the line of wagons with fists planted on his hips. He looked unhappy. “Hunters. By command of the Farratum Tusaa’Ner.” He paused to look over his shoulder then back at the hunters then continued. “Disarm. Place your weapons in the wagon closest to you; then stand in line on the side of the road nearest the lake.”

  Kardul waited for everyone to comply. No one moved. Rogaan was c
onfused and a little stunned at his command. Pax and others looked to fare no better. What did Farratum want? Why disarm? Kardul stood like a stone, unmoving, watching the hunters and workers for a few more moments then growled, “Jump to it!”

  Workers on both sides of the wagons jumped with a start while hunters begrudgingly complied. Rogaan and Pax slowly fell in line with the rest. Kardul then began walking the length of the caravan, inspecting each person as he went.

  “What he be doin?” Pax asked while keeping his eyes on Kardul.

  “No guess,” Rogaan replied with a shrug. “I am more interested in the talk between the Tusaa’Ner and Firik. It did not look friendly, and now we are disarming.”

  Pax wore a sour face, especially after tossing his weapons in the wagon. Pax was not a compliant person where authority was concerned, particularly when it was unfavorable to him. Rogaan wondered if his friend gave up any of the knives he knew to be tucked under his gray tunic and in his bottom pack. I would be surprised if he gave any of his knives up. After tossing his spear into the wagon, Rogaan stood in line next to Pax and with the rest of the hunters, at the edge of the road near a thick patch of low ferns, fir trees, and a gum that separated the gaggle from the lake shore some thirty strides further to the north. Rogaan felt uneasy…something was wrong, and not knowing made him feel more on edge. Pax played oblivious to the situation by rocking on his heels and doing his best to look impatient. Then, it might not be an act. Rogaan wondered. Kardul slowly made his way down the line, inspecting each person as he went, stopping every third or fourth person to talk briefly before moving on.

  “Da newcomers be lookin’ for somethin’. Pax spoke quietly. “Look at ‘em. They be watchin’ Kardul like they no trust him.”

  “Do you think it could have something to do with us?” Rogaan asked innocently.

  “Stop thinkin’ this be about da valley!” Pax replied sarcastically. “They be wantin’ ta tax us for huntin’ or somthin’. Ya know how these ones be always wantin’ ta take coin outta pockets.”

  Rogaan glared a moment at Pax as he wondered at his friend’s stubborn inability to see what was happening. Pax refused to put the pieces together and he just did not understand his friend, especially since Pax was usually the one to accuse town leaders of conspiracies separating common folk from their coin and all else. Rogaan saw differently -- maybe more through the eyes of his family, with discussions rich in plots, schemes, and history, rather than from the streets as Pax experienced things. Recently, Rogaan’s father had started complaining -- a rare thing, that -- that Brigum’s leaders seemed to be more about gaining and holding on to control of the people than they were with taking coin. Town laws changed, appearing to allow those in charge of watching over merchants and the common folk, ensuring fair exchanges, to manipulate if not dictate dealings. Sometimes that meant controlling the exchange of coin. Sometimes it meant controlling how the people cooperated. His father often challenged blatant attempts to grasp power, and that led to his making enemies of some in the town council, and any that favored their point of view. Rogaan realized, now, that things had been going wrong since long before he left for the Hunt. He felt it, and feared its source was Kantus’ father coming after his family. Rogaan felt shame, again, for taking his shunir’ra when bigger and important things were happening all around him and the people he cared about. I feel small because of my misdeeds.

  Kardul slowly walked the line of hunters, stopping and talking a moment with them. A light tremor was noticeable to the hunters. Kardul ignored the shaking of the ground as he lingered three persons over, and spoke to a big hunter whose name Rogaan had never learned. Their words were barely audible, but what Rogaan heard sounded meaningless . . . small talk, really. Kardul unemotionally moved on after their short exchange before stopping in front of him and Pax, his expression no different than it had been when talking to the others in the line.

  “You both must flee and hide.” Kardul spoke softly and unemotionally while keeping his eyes on Rogaan. “Use the skills you’ve learned the past few days to hide from Farratum’s guardsmen. They will not be able to follow you long in the Wilds, and I’ll see that no Kiuri’Ner finds you. Take leave of us when I command the hunters to form up on the road. Then make haste.”

  Kardul walked on without further explanation. Pax stood staring after the Kiuri’Ner much as Rogaan did, mouth agape. Pax’s tattered wide-brimmed hat hid his face in shadow from everyone except Rogaan and a few hunters closest to them, but Rogaan wore no such hat, and realized his mouth was slung open. He shut it as he stiffened his posture before glancing at the gate to see if anyone was looking at him. Only the woman sakal appeared to be watching Kardul and those he spoke to. She stood with an impatient posture, her fists planted on her hips and her right foot tapping the paving stones now and then.

  “What do we do?” Rogaan asked Pax quietly.

  “As he says,” Pax whispered. “I no trust da red-sashes. They be likely ta demand coin and threaten us jail when we say no.”

  “Why us?” Rogaan asked to no one in particular. “Did Father send them to bring me back?”

  “There ya go again,” Pax chided. “Kardul be talkin’ ta lots of us. Looks like a bunch will run when he says ta.”

  “Pax, I’m no law-breaker,” Rogaan declared. “My father would not stand for it. It is not the Tellen way, and I . . . need to stand for my decisions…and actions.” Rogaan resolved himself to take full account for taking his shunir’ra. Did Father really call the Tusaa’Ner to retrieve the bow? If so, why call Farratum’s guardsmen instead of Brigum’s?

  Pax smiled widely and replied sarcastically. “Looks like ya not be given a choice. Da red-sashes look ta be forming up or somethin’. Maybe it be ya they want. They certainly have no need of me. I be a peaceable youngling.”

  Rogaan shot Pax a skeptical look then softened his stare when he saw his friend’s smirk. “Do you think they are after me for taking my shunir’ra?”

  “Ya shunir’ra?” Pax asked, surprised. “Why would he do that ta ya? More likely he have ya shovel rocks every day for da rest of ya life. Besides, Kardul still be talkin’ with a lot of us, ya see.” Pax nodded toward the end of the uneven line of hunters, where Kardul was finishing his inspection of the hunter, a couple at a time.

  Another wave of guilt washed over Rogaan at the thought of his taking his shunir’ra. “Maybe you are right. Kardul is talking to too many of the hunters.”

  Pax gave Rogaan a forced smile as he tightened the straps and laces on his carry pack. Rogaan cinched snug his own carry pack. He feared fleeing and all the repercussions it could have on his family. He was in enough trouble, and did not want to bring any further dishonor to himself -- and especially not to his father. Bad enough to run from the Brigum guardsmen and law-keepers, but to run from the Farratum Tusaa’Ner would put him neck-deep in a dung pile, instead of only to his knees. Pax might be willing to live life so, but that was not the way Rogaan considered himself raised or felt right in doing. No, he decided he would not run. Honor was more important than his comfort. He was going to face this trouble, whatever it was, as his father would want him to do.

  “Rogaan….” Pax spoke cautiously and low. “I see it on ya face. Don’t be no fool. Kardul said ta run, and he not give us any reason not ta trust him…yet. And I no like da idea of goin’ ta jail where Kantus can celebrate on our heads. Ya no want that, do ya?”

  Before Rogaan could reply, Kardul commanded everyone to form a single line on the road facing Hunter’s Gate. All hesitated, then shuffled to it only after Kardul growled at them. Pax tugged on Rogaan’s shirt, then let go when Rogaan stepped forward onto the hard-packed dirt road. Rogaan joined the forming line, then looked back at a distressed Pax standing at the edge of the road. Rogaan pleaded with his eyes for Pax to join him. Long, tense moments passed before Pax squeezed into the line next to his friend, wearing disbelief on his face.

  “Kiuri’Ner, what are you doing?” the Farratum commander demanded
from the bridge in her high-pitched tone. Firik stood next to her, holding a frustrated posture, though he kept silent. Several Brigum and Farratum Tusaa’Ner flanked him, each with a predatory stare focused on him, possibly to make sure he did nothing.

  “Forming the line so the hunters can be marched past you for inspection,” Kardul responded innocently.

  “Forget that!” she commanded. She stood up taller, scrutinizing the line. “Where is the one named Rogaan, son of Mithraam, the metal smith?”

  Rogaan shivered head to boots. She was looking for him…him. With fear gripping him and threatening to stop his lungs from taking in air, Rogaan fought back the urge to bolt. Instead, he forced himself to breath slow and steady, trying to keep calm -- well, as best he could, given the circumstances.

  “Rogaan.” Impatient, Pax spoke in a low voice as he tugged Rogaan’s carry pack. “Time ta go.”

  “Son of Mithraam, speak up.” The woman was harsh. She stood with her fists firmly planted on her hips, demanding a response. Nobody spoke. Rogaan held his tongue, but felt many eyes on him. Without turning to look behind her, the sakal grunted orders that brought more Farratum guardsmen to the bridge repositioning themselves on both sides of her, their spears at the ready.

  Rogaan’s thoughts raced. Why did she want him? She named him by his father. What trouble am I in?

  “It really be time ta go,” Pax urged, alarmed more at this point.

  Pax tugged at Rogaan’s carry pack so hard he pulled Rogaan off balance. Rogaan leaned forward to regain his balance and to make things harder for Pax. He needed time to think, to weigh his options, as few as they seemed at the moment, and to decide what to do – speak up, or remain silent and let them figure out who he was all on their own.

  “He’s there!” Kantus squealed, after stepping from the line some twenty paces ahead and pointing right at Rogaan. “That’s the troublemaker. That’s Rogaan.”