by Brett Vonsik
“Arrest the youngone he’s pointing at,” the woman sakal ordered.
“I believe ya . . . this really be about ya,” Pax conceded. “Now run!” Pax yanked on Rogaan’s carry pack so hard they both stumbled out of the line toward the lake. To Rogaan’s surprise, Pax did not stop pulling and yanked him off-balance sending them both stumbling off the hard-packed dirt and into the ferns at the side of the road. “Run! Blind ya.”
Run they did, plunging into the thickets in between two stands of tall palms. At first, Rogaan reluctantly followed Pax. He struggled to shake off the feeling that he was fleeing the unknown and heading into the unknown for an unknown reason. Rogaan did not like it, not at all. Tangle-vines and exposed roots caused him to stumble as often as not, with only sharp fronds of razor ferns or the occasional branch to grab in order to keep his feet. Rogaan felt torn. Am I doing the right thing? But he kept running, trying to keep up with Pax. At least he thought himself doing well if he could just keep sight of him. Without anticipating it, he burst out of the thickets and into a small clearing where he came to a sliding stop, clinging to a finger-thick branch of a red berry bush. His cut and stinging hands were covered with a mix of red berry juice and blood, making the branch slick enough that it slipped from his grasp, whipping back smartly the way he had come. Rogaan searched for Pax, finding his friend picking himself up off the ground to his left. In a flash of uncertainty and fear that he would be branded a law-breaker, Rogaan lashed out at Pax. “What does this do for us?”
Pax rolled to his knees, looking around as if he were a stalked animal, then hopped into a crouch before slinking off through a stand of fir and gum trees and ferns…away from Hunter’s Gate. Pax waved, almost frantically, for Rogaan to follow. When Rogaan did not move, Pax stopped urging him to flee. “Come. Nothin’ good ta come from da red-sashes takin’ us.”
Rogaan stood staring at Pax, conflict raging in his head and heart. Why run? This is about me taking the shunir’ra…against Father’s wishes. Pax need not pay for my choices. No! Rogaan decided he would not run. He would face whatever was to be, and not as a law-breaker running. Maybe he could soften his father’s disappointment and anger this way. To keep running would only make things worse. “No. Pax, I need to face my father and the law.”
Pax grabbed his head with both hands and grimaced, while rolling his eyes up into his head, then quavered as he groaned in frustration. Rogaan watched Pax’s tantrum. He threw one when he could not take any more of Rogaan. The tantrums were usually short, but a tongue- lashing was coming. Rogaan prepared his rebuttal. As expected, Pax settled after a few moments leveling angry eyes on him. Pax opened his mouth to speak harsh words. Rogaan was all too familiar with the routine, but before Pax could speak, he looked skyward over Rogaan and put on a stunned expression. A moment later his eyes went wide and he shouted, “Spear!”
Pax’s wide eyes pointed to the closing weapon above and behind Rogaan. Twisting and pivoting, Rogaan caught sight of the spear just before it struck the ground an arm’s length from him. He stared in stunned surprise at the quivering shaft of the weapon sticking from the ground at a slanted angle. Why throw the spear at us? Looking up, Rogaan sensed the trees and ferns had stopped swaying in the light breeze. Even the breeze seemed to have died off. Looking to Pax, Rogaan became dizzy and felt about to sick-up. Pax moved unnaturally slowly as he motioned desperately for Rogaan to follow. Rogaan stumbled and fell to one knee, the dizziness too much for him and the urge to sick-up powerful. He fought it back before losing the battle in a painful retching. When he looked up, Pax stood next to him moving normally and dragging him to his feet. “Run, Rogaan. Blind, ya!”
Confused and with unsettled innards, Rogaan looked back toward the gate area. He glimpsed movement through opening in the trees and underbrush. The little he could see showed guardsmen in the colors of Farratum and Brigum assembling in small groups. A wave of panic washed over him, shaking him head to toe. Why? Taking my bow could not warrant this. Is Father gone mad? Paralyzed with confusion, Rogaan remained on bended knee, thinking, trying to work out things, to make sense of everything.
“Blind, ya!” Pax spat as he grabbed at Rogaan. “Follow me. Da mean ta kill ya.” He pulled Rogaan’s shirt, ripping its collar, before getting him to rise and take a few tentative steps toward the denser woods. With another nearly frantic yank, Rogaan followed Pax at an uncommitted trot. “Run, Rogaan, run!”
Rogaan followed at a trot, then started running after hearing voices closing from behind. Pax’s pace had him well ahead, though somehow he managed to keep in sight of Rogaan. Running mechanically, without urgency, Rogaan’s mind wondered wildly, desperately seeking answers to a simple question: Why? Why was this happening to him? He felt confused and uncertain. How could Father set the guard after me…with orders to harm me? It made no sense. Cracking branches and shouts not far behind broke into his straying thoughts. He was losing the foot race. The guardsmen were catching up. Under his breath -- more between breaths -- Rogaan cursed the Ancients for his tellen heritage and his blood’s lack of speed. In outright runs, he never impressed anyone he could remember while growing up in Brigum, and it looked as if things were no different now. Deciding to remain free, Rogaan set his jaws in determination to escape his pursuers. He would figure out what trouble he was in and how to fix it later, after he was safe from capture. He pushed through the underbrush, zigzagging around dense tufts of razor ferns and trees with as much haste as he could muster. He started breathing hard.
Ahead some fifty paces, Pax stood with shoulders and head visible above a patch of ferns, fiercely urging Rogaan on. Rogaan’s head throbbed and chest pounded with each beat of his heart, now as rapid as he ever remembered, but timed with his footfalls. He realized he was running all-out, but despite his efforts, his pursuers still closed on him. The chase had taken them to the opposite side of the lake, to the hills forming the north end of the valley Brigum sat nestled in. The lake’s calm water, now gloomy in the twilight, sat on Rogaan’s left with dwarfed, rugged cliffs rising to his right. Rogaan admitted to himself that he was just too slow to escape and needed to do something different, or he would be run down and captured. The shoreline would take him back to Brigum and, if he were lucky enough to stay ahead of his pursuers, likely to a waiting contingent of guardsmen. His only chance of escape was into the rougher terrain where his running disadvantage would not count so much against him. With renewed determination, he turned toward the cliffs, quickly losing sight of Pax along the edge of the lake. Pax can outrun any guardsmen. He’ll be all right.
Rogaan darted between boulders, trees, and undergrowth with ease. His running speed might not impress too many, but quickness he had plenty of. What he lost in ground to the guardsmen in a straight run, he gained with every shift in direction, now. His confidence grew. A spear glanced off a rock to his right then skittered off into dense undergrowth. Looking back, he saw six Farratum guardsmen some thirty paces behind in hot pursuit. They still closed on him. What must I do to escape them? A shadow burst out from a grove of trees near them. It was one of Kardul’s Kiuri’Ner, though Rogaan could not tell which one. The baraan slammed into the lead Farratum guardsman, knocking him flat and tangling up the other five, all but one ending up sprawled on the ground. Relieved, and a little surprised at getting help from the Kiuri’Ner, he bolted up the steep slope of the rugged cliff, fleeing the chaos below, skillfully climbing the uneven ground to safety, leaving the guardsmen and Kiuri’Ner behind.
Once over the cliff, Rogaan ran hard to get as much as distance between him and the guardsmen as possible before darkness fell. He entered a forest of tall firs, cedars, and pines. Their deep shadows quickly turned into a blanket of gloom. The broken canopy high above combined with the dense stands of trunks blocked out most of the waning sunlight, turning the gloom to almost pitch blackness the farther Rogaan ran. His footfalls became treacherous, with unseen branches slapping and cutting him. A sense of dread gripped him hard. He could not see. Fig
hting the instinct to bolt in any direction, he stopped and closed his eyes to allow them to adjust to the darkness. His dread worsened, but he kept his eyes closed. When he could not bear it any longer he opened his eyes to a dim, gray world with haunting outlines of trees, underbrush, rocks and rock outcrops, and deep shadows. It all seemed unnatural, especially the shadows. Rogaan tried to fight back a shudder that finally racked his whole body. He did not want to be here. He wanted to leave, and could feel his panic rising within. Then, distant sounds of those searching for him were making their way closer. With a deep breath and forced exhale, Rogaan decided they were not far enough away and that he needed to move further into the dark forest to escape. With an effort, he forced himself to take one step, to walk into his fear, willingly walking deeper into darkness and his dread.
Rogaan trembled at what unseen terror waited for him. His chest pounded wildly at that thought. Despite his ability to make out some major objects in the darkness, Rogaan had to move slowly to keep from tripping over exposed roots, rocks, and underbrush. Silver webs tickled at his face and hair, sending a chill down his spine and hitting him with a surge of panic at getting bit. He frantically pulled them from him, cursing everyone and everything as he did. The thought of an eight-legs crawling on him sent another chill down his back. Eight-legs terrified him. He wanted to bolt away as the darkness pressed in on him, but he held on to himself and pushed on, not wanting to be captured by those his father had sent after him. Why, Father? Why? With chest aching and head pounding, he gulped at the air before realizing he clung with both arms to a trunk of a pine. His clothes, soaked in sweat, gave off a rank odor strong enough to wrinkle his own nose when he was not trying to fill his lungs. Near panic, Rogaan darted looks everywhere, fearing the unseen that would cruelly end his life. Shadowy outlines and shifting dark shapes that could become a terror in an instant were all around him. The smell of the forest seemed normal, but oppressive as the darkness pressed on him. He felt vulnerable, alone, and completely defenseless. He was at the mercy of the darkness, but the darkness had no mercy. He knew that. It was malevolent. Panic welled up in him and he fought it down. It welled up again and again he fought it down. A squawk from an unseen creature somewhere above nearly set his panic out of control. Waves of fear and desperation washed over him. His clinging arms were all that kept his feet in place. Must get away! He needed light -- to be without gloom, darkness, doom, death. Another squawk eerily echoed through the forest, answered by malevolent chirps from seemingly every direction.
It was too much. Rogaan felt himself running in the darkness, out of control, his senses useless…his thoughts wild. Suddenly, Rogaan was unable to move. He just stopped without falling and now could not move. Run! Run! Run! His mind screamed for him to flee…it did not matter where, just RUN, his mind continued to scream, but his body betrayed him as if held tight by an unseen hand. Shivers rippled through him. The darkness has me! Rogaan frantically struggled against his unseen bonds. No good. A howl of fear and desperation erupted from his lips. Then, somewhere deep within him, he started to fight back. No! I must not call in more darkness. A spark of reason flickered. With all he had left in him, Rogaan desperately fought to keep hold of that shred of light and hope, and to get control his fear. A deep breath. Another. Slowly, he forced his breathing into a regular rhythm. Another breath. Another…this one a little slower than before. Another. And another…slower still. The pounding in his skull diminished as his thoughts started to clear. More than a shred. Rogaan realized he still clung to the tree, with both arms tightly wrapped around it. He never let it go. Rogaan shut his eyes again, tightly, to concentrate on controlling his emotions and to hopefully regain his dignity.
Reason regained…somewhat, though Rogaan remained anxious, if not still fearful, at the darkness and the eerie sounds echoing around him. His panic retreated, though he tried to convince himself that he had forced it away completely. It is a lie to myself. Slowly, his confidence returned and his breathing slowed, as did his once-racing heart. When he felt almost in control of himself, Rogaan opened his eyes to darkness. He hoped light would shine. No such fortune. Darkness hung thick everywhere, except for the shadowy silhouettes he could make out in the forest. He was uncertain how far he had traveled…two ridges, maybe three. Regardless, Rogaan could not imagine anyone following him except the Kiuri’Ner, but Kardul had taken care of that, as he saw with his own eyes.
The night was alive with the buzzing biters, the occasional chirp of featherwings…he hoped…and even more rare, the distant bellows and squawks of tanniyn. A slight cool breeze rustled the leaves in the little undergrowth there was, but seemed not to disturb the branches above. Rogaan felt isolated, alone, and vulnerable. Never had he been outside the walls of Brigum after nightfall by himself…in complete darkness. The strange noises of the mountain woodlands, amplified by the darkness, kept his senses on alert. Many tanniyn bedded down at night when their vision was poorest, but almost as many remained active through the darkness…the predators. Half...that granted him a bit of comfort, but not much, though it was enough to hold on to. He peeled himself from the tree, his hands and arms a bit sticky from running sap, before sitting down against a large pine next to the one he all but attempted to crush. Propped up against the tree, he wondered back to the events of the day when his life suddenly turned upside down. How could you do this to me, Father? Rogaan shook his head in disbelief and pain. He felt more alone than ever in his life. How could you do this, Father?
A branch snapped somewhere close, followed by a chirp and a clicking growl, also close. Rogaan’s senses went wild. Instantly, all movement slowed and his sight sharpened. Sounds seemed distorted...off pitch, somehow lengthening. The scent of the forest became vibrant, almost overpowering with decaying leaves, musty soil, and...blood! Rotting flesh! Another clicking growl, this one off to his right. Another behind him. Another to his left. Another to his front. Leapers! He could just make out their shadowy silhouettes at the edge of his night sight. They surrounded him. Rogaan pulled out his long knife and waved it in front of him, slicing the air with a whistle to let the creatures know he was dangerous. He rose to a crouch, readying himself for the attack he knew would come…and likely his death. The pit of his stomach knotted and he felt a twinge of shame at his last thought. Fear should not grip me so tight. He was ashamed of himself. Twigs snapped, closer. Clicks and growls closed from behind. Rogaan whirled to meet the creature face to face. Its shadowy silhouette crouched six strides away. Rogaan’s breath and heartbeat stopped. Death looked him in the eyes. Rogaan’s skin suddenly felt aflame. Pain seared him. No bright flames were visible to his eyes...just the intense pain of being burned. Rogaan convulsed, dropping his blade as he fell to the ground, withering in agony. Awful pain crawled over him...searing every bit of his flesh. Then it was gone as quickly as it hit him. He remained curled up in a ball, holding his breath, expecting to be struck by the burning, again. He gingerly touched his exposed skin, expecting pain and burnt flesh to fall off, but slick sweat was all he felt. Relieved, he sucked in a chestful of air. He was not burnt. His skin was not peeling off. With relief, Rogaan realized the leapers were gone. After a series of fleeting growls and chirps, silence hung over the darkness. What happened?
“Rest.” A calm, almost imperceptible voice spoke. Rogaan could not tell if the voice was real or in his head.
Fatigue overwhelmed him, his eyes felt heavy, and his body weak. He fought it, but knew he was to lose the battle as the shadows of the forest melted into blurs and the world spun and Rogaan felt himself falling.
Chapter 8
Paradise Lost
Struggling to breathe, Rogaan awoke from what he recalled was a sound slumber. Eyes closed and not wanting to open them, he felt pressure on his chest...not painful, almost gentle in truth. He felt...rested, refreshed, and not yet ready to give up pleasant dreams, though strangely he remembered none. The scent of pine and cedar filled his nose. Pleasant. Pressure increased on his chest as a whisp
er grew into a faint voice echoing in the hazy, surreal fog of his mind. The voice spoke, but Rogaan could not make out what it was saying. Flinching, Rogaan’s heart skipped a beat as his mind exploded with images of the forest deep in darkness, and the sinister glowing eyes calling it home and him a meal. Again, the voice called out; this time he heard his name, but what was it trying to tell him? “Rogaan! Rogaan!” His chest ached. Reluctantly, Rogaan forced his left eye open, just slightly, fearful of what he might see. A blinding light from above struck him, causing him pain…yet it was not pain. His chest no longer ached, but some pressure remained. He opened both eyes in a squint, the bright light painful to him. A few moments passed before Rogaan could make out a dark silhouette standing above him. Rogaan opened his eyes a bit more and focused to distinguish the figure’s features...Pax.
“It be about time,” Pax chastened. “I be shakin’ ya for a time, but ya no want ta wake up. Lets get movin’ before da leapers or somethin’ takes ya for breakfast.”
Rogaan’s eyes popped open fully as he bolted upright. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Ya tell me what happened ta ya last night?” Pax asked. “Me, I run ta da woods and thought ya be following, but I looked back and ya were gone. And so were da spearmen. They must’ve chased off after ya instead of me. Lucky for me, though not so good for ya, I suppose.” Pax scrubbed his hand through his black hair, leaving it standing at odd angles. “Anyway, I started ta look for ya, but got lost in da darkness and had ta climb a tree ta keep da beasties and bugs from gettin’ ta me. At first light, I got outta da tree and came lookin’ for ya. A noise caught me ear and I followed it here where I find ya.”
“The guardsmen?” Rogaan asked, swiveling his head about looking for them.
