“Fair enough,” Jack said. It wasn’t like he needed it if they were just going to kill him when they got wherever they were going.
The band of Chian’dir assembled themselves into marching formation while several of the smaller creatures disappeared into the woods to scout the way. As they left the clearing, Jack saw that they were leaving the challenger’s body in the dirt, not even bothering to strip it of supplies.
Jack gestured to the corpse. “What was all that shouting about?”
Canus didn’t even look at the body as they passed it.
“You humans believe us savages,” he said. “That we are a vile species who fight within our ranks, murdering and eating anyone who enters our territory. The elves feel the same as the humans, as do the dwarves and the dragonkin and the beastfolk. All city dwellers—the ‘good’ species, as they view themselves—feel this way. To be fair, many of the other tribal creatures share the sentiment.”
“So basically everyone,” Jack said.
“Yes,” Canus said. “But they are the ones who decide what makes a savage. We merely live as we have lived for thousands of years. Infighting is rare and is bound by rules, limited to matters of hierarchy. Even still, we rarely kill our kind, despite what you saw. However, that was a challenge for dominance of the war party, and to fail is to die.”
“Why’d he do it then?”
“Opportunities are rare. Harix was well-positioned and would have succeeded if you didn’t have a skull of iron.”
“Can’t say I understand what hitting me in the head with a club has to do with that fellow taking your job.”
The Chian’dir stopped, and the whole party stopped with him. The creature looked at Jack, a severe expression on his face.
“You are trouble. We don’t know what you are.”
Jack cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
Canus resumed his walk, and the war party continued with him. “When we learned of a human passing through our territory, we set out to find you. It is death for all who enter. It has always been this way, you understand?”
“Not really, but it’s not my place to say. I’m kind of a newcomer around here.”
Canus nodded. “That would explain your presence. Most know not to come here. When they do though, we are not reckless. Some humans have strong skills with weapons; others are talented magic users. They come here to gain experience and increase their Renown, but they believe us savages and do not expect us to attack with patience and strategy.”
“So why didn’t you kill me, then?” Jack said. “With your numbers, you could easily have ambushed me a dozen times over.”
“Because you made yourself extremely inconvenient!” Canus said. He bared his lips back. “Do you see these teeth? Do you see these claws? We are hunters! We are eaters of meat, and all beneath us are but fodder. The forest predators are our brothers, and we do not hunt them, just as they do not hunt us. It is the only law we have when we take our prey. But the humans, the elves, the dwarves? They gnash away at plants and seeds, sitting in their cities. They are no more predator than the bear who dines on berries, filling his belly for the winter so that we can fill ours.”
“Hang on a sec,” Jack said. “You’re saying you eat the people you catch?”
“Of course. One is either predator or prey. There are no others.”
Jack grimaced. “So, you didn’t kill me because…?”
“Because we do not hunt the carnivore,” Canus said, shaking his head. “We waited, expecting you to show yourself as prey. If you had, we could kill you with no concerns. But you didn’t. You never ate the rations in your bag, instead taking fish and setting traps. You refused to eat anything but meat, passing up many plants we know are edible to your kind. What’s more, one of our scouts found the place where you fought another meat-eater, but you followed our custom and refused to kill it. Time and time again, you refused the path of the prey and embraced the way of the hunter.
“I was forced to decide on a path forward. I chose to capture you and bring you to the Elders. I knew others in the party disagreed, Harix chiefly among them, but it was my decision to make. Not his.
“We waited until you put out your fire, expecting you to be vulnerable, but you had taken to the trees, hunting us as we were hunting you. We would have preferred to capture you, but then you attacked our scout and disabled two more of my fighters. Your refusal to kill other predators only made me more certain of my decision, but your attack took the decision out of my hands. By declaring yourself an enemy of the clan, it was my duty as warleader to kill you.”
“And let me guess,” Jack said. “You had to do it in fair combat, but I was unarmed?”
Canus nodded. “Yes. Your refusal to pick up the weapon made the situation complicated, but when you touched it with your foot, Harix chose to interpret it as you being armed. That is why he struck you. The only way a war leader can be deposed is if he fails in his duties and another member of the party is forced to take on the responsibility. It was the war leader’s duty to kill you, and in killing you before I was able, Harix was trying to claim that I was refusing my duty, and he was forced to step in.”
“Seems pretty weak,” Jack noted.
The Chian’dir nodded. “Normally it would be, but many of the party felt my choice to capture you was wrong. That I should have killed you immediately. When that choice led to the injury of three of my war party, some chose to ignore Harix’s paltry adherence to custom. Perhaps the Elders will remind them.” Canus glared at several members of the war party, all of whom scrunched into a low posture and looked away, the hair on the back of their necks rising.
“Had you died,” Canus continued, “I most certainly would have been deposed. But you didn’t.” He grinned. “A war leader must deal with an enemy brutally and quickly. Harix did neither. When you stood up, he went from claiming to be a war leader to interfering with one. Death was the only option.”
“That’s a hell of a price,” Jack said. He hardly agreed with the harsh nature of Chian’dir culture, but he was the interloper here. It wasn’t his place to comment.
“Indeed,” Canus said. “That is why when one challenges, one must succeed. I was not ready to join the elders. Thanks to you, I don’t have to.”
“Seems harsh to kill you,” Jack said, his bushy eyebrows pulling together. “From a tactical standpoint, it makes no sense to eliminate the people with the most experience just because some upstart takes their job.”
This time, Jack’s comment was met with uproarious laughter from the entire party. It was a disturbing sound, not like human laughter. More like a hyena, but you could still make out the mirth in their eyes.
“I would not have been killed,” the large Chian’dir said, his voice still mirthful. “I would have become an elder. I would have gone through the rebirth, then learned the stories, apprenticing until I could take my place among them. Just as when a Scout becomes a Warrior.” He gestured to one of the smaller varieties of Chian’dir, who gave Jack a toothy grin.
“Promotion by deposition?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.
“It is our way.” Canus gestured ahead. “We will arrive in a couple of days. Until then, you will make camp with us and remain under guard.”
“What happens then?” Jack asked. “To me, I mean.”
The Chian’dir leader shrugged. “You attacked the war party. I will bring you before the Elders for judgment. They will find you guilty, and you will be executed. The only reason I have not done so myself is because your strange behaviour and surprising resiliency will be of interest to them.”
“Huh,” Jack said. “So my foregone execution hinges on me attacking the war party first?”
“It does,” Canus said.
Jack gestured with a thumb at one of the makeshift stretchers being carried by the war party. “In that case, you may want to check your sources.”
“What do you mean?”
“You think I’m nuts? I never attacked you. That gu
y pushed me out of the tree, so I grabbed him and used him as a crash mat.”
Canus peered intently at Jack, then his glare switched to the stretcher. Striding over to the wounded Chian’dir, Canus’s teeth bared in a snarl. “Is this true? Did you break your warleader’s orders?”
“N-no! The human lies!” stammered the scout.
“And you are willing to go before the Elders?” Canus said. “To drink the sap with those words upon your tongue?”
The smaller Chian’dir’s mouth opened and closed, but he made no sound as he searched for a way to extricate himself from the situation.
“You are damned by your silence,” Canus sneered. “Speak no more words until you appear before the Elders. Pray that you find a more forgiving audience than I.”
The broken Chian’dir merely nodded. Canus returned to Jack’s side and looked at him grimly.
“It seems a grave injustice has been done,” he said. “You have come to our lands and followed our customs yet were met with aggression. I cannot say whether you will live, but there is much to think on.”
Canus stared at Jack. For the first time, Jack saw a flash of hesitation in the huge warleader, but it was gone in an instant.
The next words Canus spoke seemed to have a weight to them, even though they were delivered in the same tone and volume as the rest of their conversation.
“What is your name?” he said.
The question seemed to catch the rest of the Chian’dir off-guard, given their reaction of shocked silence.
“John Milsom, but everyone calls me Jack,” he said. Jack kept an eye on the other Chian’dir to gauge their response, but he needn’t have bothered, as his words were met with a harsh chattering that erupted amongst the war party.
“Mind telling me why my name is such a big deal with your crew?” Jack said.
Canus patted Jack on the shoulder. “Because we do not name our food, Jack. And now you have a name.”
Chapter 12
Eliza
After three days in the bush, Peter was exhausted. It would be great if he could blame his wretched state on whatever had happened during his trip to Arenia, but the truth was that the potion had left him feeling better than he had in years. No, his current condition was the product of being in good, old-fashioned terrible physical shape.
“You need to rest?” Beth said. “You don’t look so good.”
Peter waved her off. “No, I don’t think so,” he lied. He didn’t want to admit just how much better Beth was handling this experience. Especially the rolling hills they’d been climbing for the last couple of kilometres. “Just not used to all this walking.”
“Well, you let me know. I’m fine with stopping if you are,” Beth said. Her eyebrows steepled, and her head tilted in a way that Peter easily translated into Sure, honey. When you stop being so macho, let me know and we can stop.
Actually… now that Peter thought about it, Beth didn’t have her normal playfulness.
“What about you? How are you doing with all this hiking?” Peter asked.
Beth grimaced. “Now that you mention it, my feet are a bit sore.”
“Let me see,” Peter said. He got some mild protestation from Beth, but she let him remove her boot and sock, revealing a multitude of blisters.
“Holy hell, hon!” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Beth cringed. “You seemed okay, and I didn’t want to slow us down. It’s not like either of us are hikers, so I assumed your feet were just as bad as mine.”
“No, they’re…” Something Peter had read in his Tome tickled at his memory. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, but now he was reconsidering that position.
Summoning his Tome, Peter opened it to the SKILLS section.
HIKING
The practice of getting from Point A to Point B by using your feet. If you can walk and don’t have this Skill, you need to seriously reconsider your life choices.
Current Skill Level: 19 (Tier-I: Hobbyist)
Tier-0 Bonus: None. It’s walking.
Tier-I Bonus: Increased foot durability when hiking. (MAX)
Tier-II Bonus: Reduced chance of injury from poor footing. (9/10)
Tier-III Bonus: Unknown
Tier-IV Bonus: Unknown
Tier-V: Grandmaster spot occupied. We think. She walked off into the woods one day and nobody has seen her since.
“What level is your Hiking Skill?” Peter asked.
Beth consulted her Tome. “It’s up a bit. Level 9. Why?”
“That explains it. The Tier-I bonus is increased foot durability. I’ve been Tier-I since we arrived, so my feet haven’t been too bad.”
“Unnngh… I feel like such an idiot!” Beth groaned. “At least I’m not far from that bonus.” She bent down and gently squeezed her feet, wincing at the slight pressure. “What I wouldn’t give for some moleskin right now.”
Peter grinned. “Careful what you wish for. For all we know, people around here might literally skin moles for that purpose.”
“Ew,” Beth said, cringing. “Enough of THAT conversation. Help me over to that log so we can take a rest.”
Peter picked up Beth’s boot and helped her hop over to a log that lay near a gap in the trees where it overlooked the valley. They had been following a game trail through the woods, but a half-hour ago it had veered up the edge of a steep slope, resulting in some tough hiking. On the bright side, the path had rewarded them with several gorgeous views of the emerald forest sprawling before them.
Beth took Peter’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “It’s funny. Most of the time this place seems so strange. Then you get a view like this, and it could almost be home.”
As if on cue, winged lizard, maybe 2-metres long from nose to tail, flew out of the trees and blew lightning at a bird high overhead. The bird spasmed and dropped from of the sky, only to be snatched out of mid-air by the lizard before it descended back into the trees with its meal.
“And just like that, we’re back to being strange,” Beth said, gripping Peter’s hand tightly.
“Good Lord,” he said, staring at the place where the lizard had disappeared. “Um… why don’t we talk about something else?” His eyes darted around until they locked on a distant fog bank they’d seen a few times on their journey. “What do you think about that fog? I’ve noticed it a few times—it doesn’t seem to move a whole lot. Do you think it’s coming in off the ocean?”
Beth followed his gaze and nodded. “It seems likely, doesn’t it? I can’t think of any other reason why it would sit still like that. Should we head towards it? We probably have a better chance of finding a settlement on the coast than in the middle of a forest.”
“Makes sense, and I certainly don’t have a better idea,” Peter said. “Let’s rest a bit longer and then head that way.”
A snort of laughter burst from behind them, causing Peter and Beth to spin around and discover a woman in mottled brown leathers sitting on a rock only a few metres behind them. She sat in a relaxed posture, feet stretched out and crossed in front of her. She had the sun-weathered and fit appearance of someone who spent a lot of time working outdoors, and it made her age a bit tough to place. Given her long, gray ponytail though, Peter placed her age somewhere in her late 50’s, if not older. Harmless, if one ignored the quiver on her left hip and short sword on her right, with an unstrung bow upright in her left hand that was probably a bit taller than she was when standing. The wiry strength of the weapon seemed a perfect match for the narrow-faced woman to whom it was attached, while the scar that ran from her left ear down halfway across her throat added to the general sensation that this woman’s weapons weren’t for show.
The woman shook her head and chuckled. “Heading towards the fog would be your worst decision yet, and you’ve been making some terrible ones, so that’s saying something.”
Peter glanced around to see if more people were about to emerge from the woods, but from the looks of things, the woman was alone.
“Who the hell are you? And what’s wrong with heading to the ocean?”
The woman winked. “Nothing at all. Except that,” she pointed at the fog, “is not the ocean.”
“Of course not. It’s fog, and I don’t see why we wouldn’t head that way,” Peter sniped. He knew that he was being difficult, but he was annoyed that they had been so easily snuck up upon.
The woman shrugged. “Fine, have it your way.” She stood up and walked towards the forest.
“Wait!” Beth called. “We really could use your help.” Beth glared at Peter and lowered her voice. “Do you think this trip is going well? We’re almost out of food and neither of us has a clue what we’re doing. Even if we caught an animal, we couldn’t cook it until one of us works out how to use that flint and steel. As it is, we’re spending every night flirting with hypothermia.”
Peter grimaced, but he couldn’t ignore the truth of his wife’s words. Neither of them was an outdoors person. Beth had been a social worker and later a teacher, and while Peter ran an orchard, that was a far cry from being a camping enthusiast. They couldn’t afford to turn down help.
“I apologize,” he said to the woman. “It’s been a lot of hiking and bad nights, and it’s left me pretty cranky. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t leave.”
The woman grinned and returned to her rock. “I wasn’t gonna leave you. I just figured I’d wait here until you came back.” She plunked down and gestured at the log they were sitting on. “This is the third time you’ve enjoyed that view.”
“What?” Peter said.
“You’ve been walking in circles, kid.”
Peter looked out over the view again. Come to think of it, it did seem familiar, but he could have sworn…
“Trust me,” she said. “I spotted you two days ago, scaring off all the game, and figured I’d see what you were up to. It was pretty clear you had no idea what you were doing, and now that I’m speaking to you, I can see why. How the hell did two singl’ds end up way out here in the woods?”
Arrival: Legends of Arenia Book 1 (A LitRPG Story) Page 13
