Never in a thousand years would Girik have believed he would be sending up a silent hope and prayer for a member of the Brotherhood, but there he was, staring into the darkness above him as if he could see the Beyond and whispering into the silence left by his mama’s absence.
“If you ever cared for any of us poor souls down here, show it now. Help him. Help us.”
The scream of a fox somewhere in the distance was his only answer, and Girik closed his eyes, drew a blanket over himself, and snuggled deeper into the mattress. He needed to stop useless wishing and get some sleep. The Hunt was tomorrow, and he had to be ready… or as ready as he’d ever be.
The thought of chasing after the horror that lurked out in the forest and left such destruction in its wake made his stomach clench with fear. He wasn’t a warrior. He was a hunter when he needed to be, but he never hunted anything that could hunt him back. Still, if Tas was going out there only halfway armed at best—as Girik feared, despite the man’s words to the contrary—Girik couldn’t just stay behind and sit on his thumbs. He knew the forest better than most of the farmers and shepherds who’d been chosen for the Hunt. The least he could do was be nearby if they needed him. He’d never be able to live with himself if he stayed behind and something happened.
Chapter Eleven
FOR THE first time in weeks, the nightmare didn’t come, and Tas slept undisturbed until just before dawn. He woke, washed, and dressed by habit, feeling like a stranger in his own skin. Even Tasnerek’s weight felt odd around his neck. This was a bad way to start a Hunt. He needed to be centered, not off-balance. He needed all of his wits about him. He couldn’t be distracted.
Quanna protect us. Please don’t let me fail. I don’t pray for myself. I know I have allowed my doubts to get the better of me, but please don’t let the village pay for my mistakes.
Brother Saldus stepped into the hall right when Tas reached his door. The man scowled at him, but that was nothing new, and Tas couldn’t see any hint on his face that he’d heard what went on in Tas’s room last night. They were rooms apart and the brother was a sound sleeper, but Tas had worried all the same.
“Brother,” Tas said, nodding.
Brother Saldus gave him a curt nod in return and led the way down the stairs and outside. They traveled to the temple in silence. Brother Lijen met them at the steps. Without a word exchanged, Brother Lijen led them to the altar, picked up the singing bowl, and began to play it. Tas and Brother Saldus joined their voices to the Dawn Hymn, greeting the day as brothers had done for hundreds of years. The song helped settle him a little. It echoed off the temple walls as the orange light of dawn broke over the trees, painting the reredos in warm, soft light. Quanna, Moc, and Chytel’s carved faces all looked benevolently down on them, and Tas thought he just might have glimpsed a hint of a smile hidden in Moc’s beard this time. He prayed that was a good omen.
He purposefully avoided looking at the carving of Harot on his knees in front of the gods and focused all the energy of his song on the three greater gods. One of the lesser gods, Riyet, was actually the god of the hunt, but he wasn’t who brothers prayed to before a ritual Hunt. Spawn were not bounty of this world to be honored for their sacrifice so men could eat. Spawn were a plague that needed to be eradicated. The Hunt was a cleansing, not a hunt in the normal sense of the word.
The final notes of the Dawn Hymn faded, and Brother Lijen returned the bowl to the altar. She smiled at Tas when she returned to them, and Tas forced his lips to curve in answer.
“I can’t tell you what a relief it is that the day has finally come. Of course, you’ve seen this many times before, but our little village hasn’t been plagued by Spawn since I’ve been here… not until now.”
“I’m happy to serve,” Tas replied automatically.
She studied him for a moment. “You are recovered from yesterday, I trust? We could postpone until you are more rested. Brother Saldus assured us you would not need to repeat the ritual, but it can be done if necessary.”
Tas was glad Brother Lijen had been posted to this faraway corner of the kingdom, for her sake. She seemed much too kind and tenderhearted to ever have survived long-term at Blagos Keep. The politics alone would have eaten her alive.
Not daring to risk a glance at Brother Saldus, Tas squared his shoulders and lifted his chin enough so he was looking down on her. “That will not be necessary. As I assured Brother Saldus yesterday, and I can assure you now, I am well enough to lead the Hunt. I have all I should need to complete my task.”
Brother Lijen was probably ten years Tas’s senior, but she shifted and looked away. “Of course, Brother. I wouldn’t dream of doubting you. I simply wanted you to know we are at your disposal, whatever you might need.” They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Brother Lijen cleared her throat. “Elderman Servil has prepared a hearty breakfast to fill you up before the Hunt. Please.” She motioned for Tas to precede her, and he took the opportunity gladly.
Breakfast meant a few more precious minutes where nothing would be expected of him beyond stuffing his face. He wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to stomach much, but he’d certainly pick at some food, if only to extend his reprieve.
All too soon, Elderman Servil entered his dining room and said, “The Twelve are ready, Brother Tasnerek. They await you outside.”
Tas kept his expression blank and nodded. He couldn’t put it off forever, and the weight of Brother Saldus’s suspicion was becoming unbearable. Tas was sweating under his robe, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
Outside, twelve villagers stood in a line. They each carried a spear and a heavy wooden shield almost as tall as they were. In larger cities and towns, the residents were expected to assemble the full thirty-six able-bodied men and women for the Hunt. Sometimes even a regiment of the King’s soldiers would make up a large portion of the group. But the expectations were lowered to twenty-four or twelve, depending on the size of the local population, and villages with the nearly impassable Great Barrier Mountains as protection at their backs rarely saw soldiers unless barbarian raids kicked up again.
Tas was relieved his possible failure would only be witnessed by twelve people, but all the same, he’d have preferred more bodies at his back when he wasn’t running at full power.
He lifted his chin and stared haughtily down at them, doing his best to ignore the ring of curious villagers gawking from a respectful distance. He couldn’t let an ounce of unease show. He needed their confidence if this charade had even a chance at success. “All honor to the Twelve.” As he’d been trained, he projected his voice so everyone could hear. “The gods smile on you for your bravery in stepping forward and giving of yourselves for the good of all. I shall move to the head of the line shortly, and the Hymn of the Hunt will begin, but first we will review what you can expect and what will be expected of you.”
The two other brothers flanked Tas as he stepped closer to the Twelve. Anxious and wary eyes met his briefly before dropping away as he moved up the line. “Brother Lijen has told us one of your number has scouted the area we will use for the trap. I ask that person to step forward now.”
Tas had done this enough times he probably could have picked out the woodsman or huntsman on his own, so he wasn’t surprised when a scraggly-bearded middle-aged man in hunting leathers stepped forward.
“I chose the place, Brother,” the man said before he gave a head bob that seemed like an afterthought.
Tas nodded sagely. “Then you shall lead us there first, so I may prepare it.” Tas lifted his head and stepped back so he could see and be heard clearly by the entire line. “After the trap is prepared, I shall leave all but the mounted protected and in hiding, while those of us who can move swiftly will flush the Spawn out and drive it into the trap. How many horses do we have?”
Elderman Servil stepped forward. “You will have four riding with you, Brother. And I’ve provided four packhorses for the supplies and shields.”
Tas felt Brot
her Saldus shift at his side, but he didn’t bother glancing at the man. The village had provided the absolute minimum required of them, but this wasn’t unusual. Many times, it was all they had. No doubt Brother Saldus would put it in his report. Tas just hoped that was the worst he would have to say about this Hunt.
“Thank you, Elderman,” Tas said with another nod. “Once the trap is prepared, I will give more detailed instructions to you, but if you have any questions, you may speak now before the Hunt begins.”
Tas sensed a ripple of unease move through the line. Most of the time, villagers were too intimidated to speak up, which had led to some unfortunate misunderstandings for some of the Thirty-Six in the past. Tas had turned and taken a few steps away before he heard someone clear his throat. The grizzled huntsman stepped forward again.
“Sir—Brother, I mean, we mean no offense, but the ritual were cut short yesterday, and some in the village worry the unfinished rite might mean ill for the Hunt.”
“Thram,” Elderman Servil hissed warningly.
After another quick survey of the line, Tas couldn’t pretend he didn’t see the worry on their faces. The participants in the Hunt were always a bit scared. They were going after monsters of legend after all, and only armed with spears, shields, and whatever bows, knives, and clubs they already had to hand. But there was another layer to the disquiet of this particular group, and it was Tas’s fault. Villagers might fear the Brotherhood, but they also believed in the power of it. By failing to complete the rite, Tas had allowed doubt to creep in.
He swore internally, but let nothing show on his face. “It’s all right, Elderman. Things did not go as expected yesterday, so I can understand his concern and forgive the question.” Tas raised himself to his full height and hardened his expression. “I am Tasnerek… in the common tongue, Thirteen of the Thirty-Six.” Tas added an almost inaudible hum behind his words, keying Tasnerek on his chest so the stone glowed slightly in the early-morning light. “I was chosen as a protector of the people by the gods and the sacred stone around my neck. The ritual may have been shortened yesterday, but believe me when I say the Offering was very strong and gave much in a short time. You chose well. This is my twenty-fifth Hunt. Be assured it will be as successful as all of the others.”
The line in front of him and the crowd gathered around them shifted and rustled, but not a word was spoken. Tas hoped he’d given them enough of a show, because he really couldn’t afford to expend the energy for something flashier.
Thram stepped back in line and lowered his head, and Tas didn’t wait for any more dissenters to drum up the courage to speak out. He strode toward the western end of the village, where his horse waited alongside the string of packhorses. The packhorses had to carry the heavy shields so the Twelve wouldn’t tire themselves out marching with them. That meant that provisions for only a day and a night were packed in addition to that. The trap was always laid far enough away to protect the village, but near enough so reprovision or aid could be sent in the unlikely event the Hunt dragged out.
Keeping his back stiff and his chin high, Tas mounted and waited for the rest of the group to join him. When silence finally fell, signaling that everyone was in place, he nodded to Brother Lijen, who began playing the sacred bowl. Tas sung the first lines of the Hymn of the Hunt, which began as all the hymns did with praises to the gods and prayers for their blessings. The rest of the village, including the Twelve, joined on the second verse, and Tas urged his mount into a walk. Tasnerek began to glow on his chest, and Tas served as a beacon leading the procession to the forest’s edge.
The hymn served many purposes beyond simple ceremony. It gave the villagers a sense of unity, a sense of taking part. It helped instill courage in the Twelve, with their entire village symbolically and literally at their backs from the start. And it keyed the sacred stones. Spawn were terrified of the stones. Though each Spawn was different, they all seemed to sense when the stones were near, and they ran as far away from them as they could. If the Spawn was near the village, keying the stone made it run in the opposite direction, thus ensuring the village’s safety while they were engaged in the Hunt.
At the tree line, Tas ended his part of the hymn, and Brother Lijen picked it up. The rest of the village turned and headed back, still singing, while the Hunt moved into the forest. Tasnerek fell dormant on Tas’s chest so as not to chase the Spawn too far away. Tas could feel the faint vibration from it, signaling the Spawn was still in the area, and that was what he would use to track it, but first, he needed to set the trap. He waved Thram forward, and the man led them deeper into the woods along a deer track.
The journey seemed to take forever as his horse plodded along in front of the line of men and women ahorse and on foot. Thram moved nimbly through the forest ahead of them all, despite the gray in his hair, reassuring Tas that the man knew what he was about. Unlike other unfortunate Hunts, Tas was fairly confident he’d be happy with whatever site Thram had chosen for the trap.
The journey may have felt like hours, but the sun wasn’t even halfway to its zenith by the time the huntsman led them down a slope to a steep-sided valley with a small stream running through the middle.
“This close to the village, this were the best I could find that were what Brother Lijen said you needed,” Thram said when Tas dismounted.
As a general rule, Tas disliked interfering with waterways of any kind, but hopefully he’d have enough power left to unmake the trap after the Spawn was dispatched.
“It will do well, Thram,” Tas replied, nodding at the man before striding forward to survey the land.
Without Brother Saldus scrutinizing his every move, Tas was able to settle into the familiarity of the job at hand. This part of his duty hadn’t changed and was still as noble an undertaking as it ever was. He was scared, more scared than he’d been in a long time. He’d never faced a Spawn so underprepared before. But if all went well, he’d walk away with no one the wiser. He had enough power to set the trap and unmake the Spawn. What he didn’t have was anything left over for mistakes or accidents.
So, let’s hope there won’t be any.
Far enough away from the others so they couldn’t hear him or see his face, Tas closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath. This was it. One way or another, the Spawn would be destroyed, even if he had to give his own life to do it. Honestly, he didn’t know what he’d do after this Hunt anyway. The thought of going back to Blagos Keep, with all his doubts still spinning around inside his head and all the scrutiny and questions sure to be awaiting him, made him ill. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he died here a hero, rather than back at the Keep, branded a heretic and traitor.
That’s a cheerful thought.
He gave himself a shake. He had work to do. Like Girik had said, he had more important things to think about right now. He took another deep breath and began to sing the Hymn of Stone and Earth. Tasnerek awoke and the energy stored in it flooded back out, guided by Tas’s song. Tas lifted his hands theatrically in case any of the Twelve weren’t staring a hole in the back of his head already. Boulders and dirt along the sides of the ravine shifted and trembled. He was being careful to use the bare minimum to accomplish his task, so it took longer than it usually did, but eventually, with a rumbling crash, tons of earth and rock slid into the ravine from each side, blocking one end.
Tas hid a smile at the gaping villagers and strode confidently back to where they waited. “For any of you who have not participated in a Hunt before, this is where the riders and I shall drive the Spawn. Those of you on foot will remain here in hiding until the Spawn and I have passed by. The riders will dismount here, and you will come out of hiding behind me. You will stand in a line, shield to shield, here.” Tas snagged a stick and drew a line in the dirt across the ravine. “I will meld your shields together to form a solid wall at my back. All you have to do is hold the line and keep your spears braced, points through the holes in the shields. When the Spawn realizes its exit is blocked, y
ou will have only a few moments to get into position, so move swiftly.” Tas held each man’s and woman’s gaze until they nodded. “When I begin the Hymn of Cleansing and Unmaking, the Spawn will be in a frenzy. It will seek to find any means of escape it can. Do not waver. Do not show any weakness in the wall. It will be drawn to that weakness. Do you understand?” After pausing and searching their faces again to drive his point home, Tas nodded. “I will be between you and the Spawn. It will avoid me and the sacred stone as much as possible. Your wall behind me will be an added deterrent. But if it does charge, it has to go through me first. Hold the wall firm and it won’t think it can easily get around me. Your job is to hold the wall, nothing more. Remember that.”
He turned his back on the group and repeated the Hymn of Stone and Earth, causing smaller piles to fall, providing cover and narrowing the ravine where the wall would be, but not so much as to deter the Spawn from entering the trap.
“Unload the shields and lead the packhorses a safe distance away. Thram, I assume you scouted a place for that as well?”
“Aye, Brother.”
“Then lead them to it. Secure the horses and supplies and return with the eight who are staying behind. Those of you mounted, take my horse and yours to the top of the ravine and wait for me.”
While the villagers obeyed his instructions, Tas walked the ravine. As he’d said to the man, Thram had chosen well. The steep rocky sides would be extremely difficult to climb if the Spawn attempted that in its panic. Tas still had plenty of power stored in the stone to do the separation and purification. He actually had a spark of hope that he might make it through this day in one piece.
When the eight who would stay behind returned, Tas instructed half to wait on each side of the ravine behind the stack of shields and piles of debris.
The Priest Page 10
