Nameless: Bones of the Earth I-III

by J. C. Hendee

  When Fiáh’our did not answer it, Karras followed the old man’s gaze. Two by two, yellow sparks winked out, until all that remain were those of the big and little shadows.

  “A… a female?” Fiáh’our whispered, shock in his voice.

  Karras glanced at the thänæ. How could the old man know—see—that in the dark? The sound of breaking brush and a small animal-like yelp pulled his eyes upward again.

  That shorter, smaller set of eyes was gone. And those of the largest shadow also faded into the forest.

  Fiáh’our backed down the slope, looking all about, until he stood side by side with Karras.

  “Well?” Gän’gehtin snapped. “Answer me!”

  “I do not know,” the old man growled back. “It is as if they try to use my own ploy against me. That is not like them, when they have…”

  In that stall, Fiáh’our straightened. His eyes widened as he looked northward in the dark. Karras saw nothing out there, not even the forested slope where they had skulked earlier that day and been attacked in the clearing.

  “Their food hoard is closer than I thought,” Fiáh’our suddenly whispered. “And perhaps they are ready to leave.”

  “Then why not do so?” Karras blurted out. “And we can do the same. Why did those three try to come up behind us… and then they all ran off instead of the others rushing in.”

  This all came out before he thought about it, and then he wished he had kept quiet.

  Fiáh’our peered once toward the ledge’s end and then stared northward again.

  “Numbers… they need their numbers,” he whispered.

  “What are you muttering about?” Gän’gehtin asked.

  The old man turned with a glower. “Either their hoard is too large and they need everyone they have to carry it, or they do not want us harrying them when they turn to leave with it… or both. They want us gone first, one way or another, without losing anymore of their own… or they might have to leave some of their winter stores behind.”

  Karras did not like the sound of this, especially when the old man sagged with another sigh.

  “They are being more cautious than any pack I have hunted before,” Fiáh’our added. “And we are not enough to go at them first in trying to scatter or panic them into blind flight. Even if we found and destroyed their hoard, they might linger longer to regain their losses.”

  That night ended, like the two that followed, in moving camp again. On the third night, they shifted back to the valley’s eastern side…

  Where Karras now sat gripping his knees.

  He stared into the valley for too long while the old man did the same. To complicate matters, they had gone through half their ration of hard cakes replenished in the village. Any snares Fiáh’our had laid for wild game had always come up empty. There was nothing left here but the three of them and the pack.

  Sooner or later, they would have to leave or starve, but Karras feared the old man would sit over this valley until they all dropped. The more he stared at those stone spines, without even a stream down the valley running between their toes, the more he wished he was back aboard his family’s ship and far from here.

  “We need to make them come at us,” Fiáh’our said too idly, too off-handed, and not for the first time that day or the last two. “We have to terrify them into grabbing what they can and taking flight… before they lose anymore of their own and have to leave behind more than they have to. If not, we will lose, one way or another.”

  Karras dropped his chin on his knees and crushed his eyes closed. He was sick of the old man repeating that over and over, as if…

  A notion returned, one that had bounced around in his head all day. He had pushed it away every time, for it was a foolish idea. It came from everything he had learned from Fiáh’our out here, learned of the pack in this valley, and it all mixed with his own past as a sea trader. Worse, the old man might be thinking something of like kind but had held back in saying so, because…

  As Fiáh’our had sat there on a crop of stone all day, with Gän’gehtin pacing on and off, the old man now and again glanced Karras’ way. By late afternoon, why the old man still hesitated over whatever was on his mind became undeniable to Karras.

  After all of Karras’ fearful blunders and Gän’gehtin’s strange recklessness since leaving the seatt, the old man would say—do—nothing until certain his companions were ready as well as willing. That Karras might be thinking anything similar to what the braggart had in mind made him shiver.

  “There is…” he began, faltering at his own voice, “It… is something… maybe.”

  By the time Karras finished, Gän’gehtin no longer fidgeted in a temper. The shirvêsh looked stunned, and then doubtful, likely because of who had come up with this notion. But he grew eager as he looked to the thänæ.

  The old man merely smiled in that sly way that made Karras’ guts clench.

  “Well, well,” Fiáh’our chuckled, “perhaps the kitten has started thinking like… like a cat?”

  16. Days of Yore and Like Bumbles

  Karras crouched in the dusk shrouded valley behind a sharp rise at the bottom end of one stone spine. His ku’ê’bunst’s haft was already slick in his clenched hands, and the dawn’s chill did not stop a trickle of sweat running out of his helmet and down his forehead. He cursed himself, over and over.

  Why had he not kept his mouth shut until the old man gave up?

  He rose carefully, peeking over the spine’s rise and through the pre-dawn’s near darkness. Not more than fifty strides north beyond the next spine’s end on the far side, Fiáh’our waited in hiding… somewhere. In the middle of the night, Gän’gehtin had gone south to cross to the valley’s eastward side without being seen and then would have gone northward. Supposedly, the shirvêsh was somewhere up the eastern ridge above the pack.

  And they all waited, each alone, for dawn to touch the westward trees.

  Karras did not spot the old man, so he sank into hiding and sagged against the stone spine. His helmet scraped against stone in his carelessness, and he shuddered.

  Nothing they did now was exactly as he had suggested. Fiáh’our had made changes versus the ludicrous tale of Karras’ great-grandfather, Uinfeald.

  Gän’gehtin would play the part of Uinfeald and his ship turning for a run around their people’s mountain peninsula, though the shirvêsh would first have to bait the pack into chasing him… and then survive.

  Fiáh’our laid in wait, like that skiff of three—or four—crew members that had come from behind once the “brigands” pulled up short. But how Gän’gehtin—or any rughìr—was going to outrun the pack on open ground was almost as ridiculous as the old tale of Uinfeald. Late last night, as the shirvêsh grew too eager, the thänæ had finally agreed to that part.

  “All right then,” Fiáh’our had said, “if you have such a blood lust. But do more than shock and terrify them into chasing you, and I will leave you to them. Stick to your purpose!”

  And as to Karras… he got to play the part of the “anchor,” of all things. The one that had held Uinfeald’s ship in the path of the enemy… that would hold the pack once—if—Gän’gehtin reached the stone spine where Karras now hid.

  He could not stop a moaning sigh, but he did not get to curse himself again.

  A shrieking bark rolled down the valley, followed quickly by more of the same and the shattering of brush and branches.

  Karras rose up, twisted about, and backed away from the stone spine.

  · · · · ·

  Fiáh’our tensed at the noise of the pack rousing in panic. He rose slightly and stared toward the valley’s far side and up. More snarls, howls, and shrieking barks echoed out of the far trees amid cracks and tearing of underbrush. Fiáh’our almost stepped clear of the brush where he hid.

  If Gän’gehtin lingered in mayhem, he would not get enough of a lead to make the short run to where Karras hid.

  And again, Fiáh’our almost took that step to go after
his fury-fouled young friend.

  Something burst from the far tree line.

  Gän’gehtin arced out amid a spray of torn leaves and landed heavily down slope. Earth and small stones scattered and tumbled away under his boots. None of those had settled before he was skidding and running downward with his long cudgel in one hand and his large round shield bouncing on his back. Just as he reached the valley floor, something else charged out of the sloped forest above.

  Fiáh’our’s eyes widened.

  She was naked, covered in nothing but her own fur without one bit of hide or scavenged armor slashed onto her great torso. She charged down on all fours with no weapon, not even some huge root of a club gripped in either forepaw.

  Fiáh’our froze.

  He had seen only two females among packs in all of his years. This one was huge, as big as the biggest of males, and possibly taller than the shirvêsh, should she rise on her hind legs. In that, there was no doubt she led the pack, though he had never seen a female do so. Her torso and forelimbs had scars running parallel, as if from claws instead of weapons, and likely gained in beating down others into obedience.

  Two more sluggïn’ân broke from the trees—and then another—all males in crudely lashed-on bits of armor. Two wielded old rusted maces.

  Gän’gehtin ran hard down the valley, but the female was gaining on him, tearing up earth with her clawed paw-like hands in every lunge.

  A fifth sluggïn’ân broke out of the trees to follow the others at a run.

  Fiáh’our stepped out this time, though none of the pack looked his way. He tried to gauge if the shirvêsh could make the run or if he should charge out before all of them were too far out of his reach.

  A shriek of metal echoed in the valley as the female’s claws hit Gän’gehtin’s back and raked across the shield. The shirvêsh stumbled under the blow.

  Fiáh’our tossed his axe to his off-hand, jerked a battle dagger from its belt sheath, and flipped it to grab the blade for a throw.

  · · · · ·

  Karras froze. At the screech of steel, he had peeked over the top of the stone rise and saw Gän’gehtin stumble under a blow. Karras could not have imagined any of these beasts being so big.

  It… she… rose in her next lunge, her yellow eyes wide and looking insane. And Karras feared her opening jaws were so wide they could clamp on Gän’gehtin’s head.

  Karras spotted three more coming down the valley.

  Even in terror, he almost rushed out. Fiáh’our had vehemently warned him not to reveal himself until the shirvêsh reached the spine behind which he hid. If he did, all of this would be for nothing.

  Gän’gehtin suddenly planted himself.

  Karras thought he heard the pound of heavy boots.

  Without turning, the shirvêsh whipped the cudgel’s iron-ribbed end up and back. The female twisted her head out of the weapon’s path and slashed downward. Those claws struck as Gän’gehtin twisted rearward in shifting one foot.

  That huge paw slid off the shield on Gän’gehtin’s back as he finished his turn on the cudgel’s upward spin. The butt spike came down as Gän’gehtin’s moving foot slammed the earth toward his opponent.

  This time Karras heard mute thunder from that stomp.

  The cudgel’s spike tore a line from the beast’s right collar to its breastbone.

  The female reared back, jerked her head up in shriek, and the others behind her veered off to either side in their charge.

  Gän’gehtin finished his full turn in bolting onward.

  Karras set himself, ready to step to the stone spine’s end once the shirvêsh passed by.

  · · · · ·

  Fiáh’our saw Gän’gehtin spin and held off with the battle dagger still at ready. Once the shirvêsh charged onward, the female faltered as the others swerved wide in following, and Fiáh’our had only a moment of relief.

  The next part was more worrisome, for it involved Karras making the first surprise attack. If that did not take the pack unaware, everything that followed might still come apart.

  Then worse came, as two more sluggïn’ân broke out of the trees. There was no more time left to wait, and it did not matter if the new pair saw him.

  Fiáh’our bolted into the open as the female and her first three followers raced after the shirvêsh. And then things changed.

  A series of snapping howls carried over the valley, and Fiáh’our followed the sound with his ears… and his eyes. Up the spine behind which Karras waited, he spotted the small, deformed one wailing and flailing its arms.

  When Fiáh’our lowered his gaze, the female had veered. She was too far for a throw with a top-heavy dagger, and he took off at a run.

  · · · · ·

  Karras ducked lower behind the rock spine and crept towards its outward end, but only as far as he might still remain hidden an instant longer. He tried hard to think only of what Fiáh’our had shown or told him after sparring with Gän’gehtin on their way to the village.

  “Use disadvantage for advantage,” the old man had barked at him. “You are short, accept that and use it! If your opponent tries to beat you down from above, quickly strike low and shift aside… then stand and hold to strike again, immediately!”

  There was no doubt that the big one chasing the shirvêsh was much bigger than Karras, especially if she rose from all fours. And he heard the pound of running boots and paws.

  Gän’gehtin suddenly rushed by the spine’s end.

  Karras lunged to that end, planted himself, and swung low with full force.

  All he saw of the hairy blur rushing by was a glint on its torso. His ku’ê’bunst's five-bladed head connected with a clank on his target’s rear leg. The weapon lurched in his grip, and his mind blanked as the beast stumbled. It was crudely armored, even to cups of rusted steel on its… knees. And it was not the female that chased Gän’gehtin.

  The shirvêsh wheeled to face the male stumbling to regain its footing.

  Somewhere nearby, perhaps from above, Karras heard barks cut off sharply over and over. He began to glance over his shoulder and up the spine, the noise of tumbling rocks pulled his gaze even higher.

  The huge female came over the stone spine.

  Karras threw himself back along the spine as she tried drop land on him and crush him down. Something still swiped the back of his helmet and the world spun. He careening along the spine’s side up the slope until he toppled down it to the ground. A shrieking roar was too close as everything whirled before his eyes. He thought he heard the shirvêsh shout something.

  And where was Fiáh’our?

  Karras clawed up the spine’s side, blindly swinging the ku’ê’bunst until he got his footing. And he spotted the huge female.

  Her yellow eyes were on him. She shrieked through opened jaws with top and bottom blunt fangs as her hands—her forepaws—tore the earth in a charge. Something smashed down on her head from behind before she reached him.

  She buckled but did not go down, and Gän’gehtin closed again from behind her/

  Another movement snapped Karras’ gaze away.

  The armored male that had chased the shirvêsh rushed at him. Even at its limping gait, he froze. It swung a rusted mace high and down, and all Karras could think to do was raise his weapon.

  His hands spread wide in gripping the haft to block. Metal clang and shreiked as the mace stuck. It was the sharpest—slowest—instant he could have imagined before death.

  His ku’ê’bunst bowed downward as the mace’s spiked end came at his head.

  Karras stumbled under too much weight and force. A second ping of metal quickly followed the clang of impact. He knew the force had broken if not bent his weapon’s haft. The mace’s head halted a hand’s breadth from his face.

  The ku’ê’bunst suddenly lurched again in Karras' grip as its haft straightened and the mace sprange off.

  The male’s yellow eyes widened; so did Karras’ as he stumbled. The beast recovered before he did and swiped
at him with its free hand. Claws raked his’ armor as the blow drove air out of his lungs.

  Karras gasped amid trying to shift his grip on his weapon to strike back. And the male grunted as its head suddenly whipped aside. A heavy battle dagger careened off its skull, tearing a tall peaked and tufted ear. When its faltering swing came, he ducked aside.

  The mace struck only earth, and he swung in low on the back of its wounded knee.

  Two of his ku’ê’bunst’s five blades sank into the joint where no metal protected it.

  Even as the creature buckled with a scream, it flailed back at him.

  Something caught the side of his right calf.

  Karras' foot came off the ground, and he slammed down on his back. Before he could roll away, the male was up again… coming at him… above him.

  Its head whipped again.

  Blood sprayed from the side of its skull below the torn ear. And it was gone.

  Karras quickly sat up. Everything had suddenly gone too quiet, except for a distant, frantic shrieking and nearer groans and whimpers.

  “Up! On your feet!”

  There was Fiáh’our above him with one hand stretched down. That hand, and the axe in the other, and even the front of the thänæ’s armor were spattered in dark red. For an instant, Karras could not catch his breath let alone take that stained hand.

  “Stop dawdling!” Fiáh’our barked. “It is over.”

  The thänæ grabbed the shoulder of Karras’ hauberk, and Karras struggled to his feet as the old man heaved. The first thing he saw was something he did not want to see.

  The male lay still on the ground with the side of its bristle-furred head split open by the old man’s axe. Karras was in too much shock to get sick this time, though he felt as if all the heat left his body. He started to shiver as he numbly looked about.

  Out beyond the spine’s end lay three more hulkish, furred bodies. None moved or made a sound, and there were no others still standing or coming down the valley. When he turned the other way toward the moans and whimpers, he could not help clutching his weapon.

  Back beyond the stone spine, Gän’gehtin stood over the fallen female. Karras’ eyes remained locked on the shirvêsh instead of looking at the monster that had come at him.