by Glynn James
The others sensed it too and were nervous when the scent drifted in on the wind. The young ones became jittery and stopped following the rest of the pack, even resorting to drifting away into the undergrowth and hiding, where they would need to be flushed out and forced to rejoin the others, lest they be left behind. It was not a behavior The Brother was used to. The young were normally wise enough at least to stay within the pack, at its center. They were safer there.
What manner of new creature smelled that way? He had no idea. It smelled as though a Walking One had lived under the dirt for timeless ages and then risen out into the air, bringing with it the damp and dead mold from deep under the ground. And blood, sharp and pungent, was part of the smell. They were Walking Ones, but of the earth, he thought. Earth Walkers.
One of the young pups edged closer to his feast and The Brother peered at it. The she pup was young, and quite fine in features, and he did not wish to upset her. Normally he would utter a low growl, and any pup nearby would take a hint and scatter, but he looked down at the kill, realized he was full enough, and took a step away as though the kill was no longer of interest to him. This, of course, signaled to the pup that she was fine to proceed, and she hopped forward playfully, still watching him with caution, but soon ignoring him as she ate.
The Brother left his pack feasting and trudged up the grassy bank that overlooked the ancient Walking One ruins. There was movement in the far distance, among the strange rocks, and lines of Walking One firepits sending their dark trails of smoke into the sky. Many of them, far more than usually gathered together.
Something is changing with the Walking Ones. They fight more than they did , now that the newcomers are here. The ones from these valleys do not like the newcomers, and they battle over territory. And what will change when the Earth Walkers, the ones that smell bad, arrive?
The Brother sneezed just thinking of the smell of the ones from the earth, trying to cast away even the memory of the scent.
Why worry? There are more Walking Ones here than ever before, and they fear us. Let the pack feast.
Chapter 9
“Would you like some venison?”
“No, I’ve had enough,” said Loner.
The crickets swelled in the dark forest as Briar’s men sat around campfires talking about the decision he had made a few hours before. Intellectually, Loner understood Briar’s decision. But many things had yet to be decided.
The wind pushed through the low-hanging pines, the scent filling his nose and mixing with that of meat over fire.
“Who is first up on watch tonight?”
Loner looked around the fire at the faces of the men flickering in the orange light. These had been his friends, and he had gone to battle with them, hunted with them, feasted with them. He kicked a stone into the smoldering ash and leaned back to rest his head against the trunk of a tree.
“I’m not sure Briar’s making the right call.”
Loner put his hand on his axe and kept his eyes low and guarded as he turned to face the man who had spoken. He looked around at the other men’s faces. They avoided eye contact with Loner. “Briar is our leader. We follow him as we’ve always done.”
The warrior Loner addressed had a bandage across his left eye. Blood caked the lower portion of his beard and a large bruise spread across his cheek.
“Jonah held a council. The lines will hold. We know little of what the Valk are planning, and Eliz is no longer an option. The Cygoa have burned Rocky Mount to the ground. What other choice do we have?”
The man looked at Loner as he spoke. Briar stood far enough away to know that they were talking about him but not close enough to hear what they were saying. Another warrior leaned in towards the fire, looking up into Loner’s face.
“And you stand behind Briar, no doubts?”
“I always stand behind my leader,” said Loner.
The moon had risen slightly above the tops of the trees, casting a silver glare across the leaf-covered ground. Some of the other hunters had covered their fire and lain down for the night. But Loner knew these men were the most cynical, and they would be the toughest for Briar to convince to form an alliance.
“Have you not wandered off on your own before?”
Loner reached over the fire and grabbed the man by the neck. He slammed his head off the tree and spun him around until the man was flat on his back, Loner sitting astride his chest. He pointed a finger at the man’s face, his snarl twisted in the firelight’s glow. “Shut your goddamn mouth.”
A nervous energy worked its way through the men. Some stood and brushed themselves off before walking over to their bedrolls for the night. One of the men grabbed his axe and looked at Loner. “It is my turn for guard duty.”
Loner looked into the eyes of the man beneath him. He felt the warrior’s chest heaving with nervous breath. Loner stood up, extending an arm to the man and pulling him to his feet. “That’s enough talk for one night.”
He watched as the men retreated to their bedrolls, spread out amongst the tree trunks. Their fire was the last burning, and Loner had not been able to see where Briar had bedded.
Loner grabbed the flask and began walking around the edge of the camp, looking down at the sleeping men as he passed. These were hunters, not warriors. He was not entirely clear why Briar had decided to make an alliance with Jonah. It seemed as though it was not their fight. The Elk clan had moved through all of the lands, gathering clans to rise against their enemies. He failed to see how this was their battle to join.
A few hours had passed when Loner realized how long he had been thinking about his leader’s decision. It was now his shift to keep watch over the camp. He walked back to where his belongings had been packed in the satchel, his bow resting against the trunk of a tree. He looked around, hearing nothing but the chirp of a few crickets along with the maddening snores of the men lying by the fire.
Someday, he would hold Briar accountable for this decision. He would make sure the man understood the foolishness of aligning with unknown, foreign clans. Loner had a vision for his clan. The land to the west was rumored to be tainted but he wondered if all of those old stories were true. They could hunt the vast lands as far west as anyone had ever traveled since the old world ended, and they’d never have to worry about the petty political wars of the clans migrating down from the north. But Briar saw none of that. He stood behind Jonah with both the Cygoa and the Valk getting closer. What future would there be if they were always beholden to one foreign leader or another?
A rustle came from deep within the forest and Loner looked in that direction. He bent down low, peering through the branches and into the space where the moonlight reached the forest floor. He waited, like a skilled hunter. After a few moments, he saw a man walk back to his bedroll after emptying his bladder.
Loner threw his satchel over his back and grabbed his bow and quiver. He looked through the camp to where he knew Briar must be sleeping. He took two steps forward, bent down, and picked up a large rock. He walked through the camp, stepping around and over fallen branches and other items that would give him away. He approached Briar’s bedroll and raised the rock above his head. A man coughed, and Loner spun around to see one of the hunters standing before him.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I heard something,” said Loner. “I was prepared to smash the animal with this rock.”
The man looked from Loner’s satchel to his bow and then down to Briar sleeping in his bedroll. He then nodded and walked away, leaving Loner standing before their leader. Loner dropped the rock and walked after the man.
“You are next up on guard duty, are you not?”
“Yes, Loner,” the man said. “My shift comes after yours.”
“I cannot sleep. I’m spooked by the noises of the forest. I am concerned that one of our new allies may try and attack us. I would like to keep watch.”
The man rubbed his eyes and shrugged. “Then take my shift.”
Loner
placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Very well then, my friend. Go get some rest, and we’ll talk to Briar about this in the morning.”
The man nodded and walked back towards his bedroll. Loner waited for him to disappear into the darkness, turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, except he didn’t stop at the spot where he should be keeping watch. No, not this time. He may have said to the others that he would stand by Briar, but that had been just to judge their reaction, and it had not been a reaction that he had wanted or expected.
They didn’t have the same vision. They were all just like Briar—so afraid of what new thing may be out there in the forest that they had no vision of what could be. Far to the west, the open, uncharted lands were calling. Beyond the forests of the Wytheville clans—far, far beyond that. He would go alone, if needed. He would find his place in the world, far from the bothering of others.
Loner glanced back once and considered the other option. He could end Briar. He nearly had. If he did, then maybe the others would feel free to have their say, and maybe some would want to go with him.
You’re an idiot, he thought. You must go, and you must go alone. With that he turned back to the trail ahead and started walking.
Chapter 10
Seren watched as the scout party moved quietly through the bushes at the bottom of the ravine. There were four—the usual number she had come to expect of a Cygoa scouting party. The first was tall and lanky, and almost unbearably thin, but she doubted it was through lack of food. The other three were shorter and more muscular, stout warriors bundled in fur and leather. It had been the furs that Sorcha had detected from nearly half a mile away.
To a human, the scent of wet fur was something only detected at short range, maybe a few feet at most, but to the wolf, the scent carried through the trees and along the valley. An hour before, Sorcha had begun her shuffle; it was a peculiar behavior, Seren thought, and she wondered if Sorcha had always done it or if it was something she had instinctively developed for Seren’s benefit.
She would snuffle, her nose twitching and sniffing while producing a comical grunting noise. Like a wild pig, Seren thought. A strange noise for a wolf to be making, but then, what experience had she of wolves? Only Sorcha. As the scent was identified, and the distance decreased, Sorcha scratched at the ground, usually close to Seren, running over to stand right next to her before the scratching began and darting back off into the trees. I’ve found something, was what Seren liked to think the scratching said. The wolf would crouch low in the bushes and fret if Seren didn’t join her.
For the last two days, the unlikely trio had trudged through the forest, heading north-east. They had covered much more ground than Seren had expected, considering the rain was now almost relentless in its assault. Seren was dry under the layers of deer skins, but Declan, already struggling along using the makeshift crutch Seren had fashioned for him, was suffering. She had given him some of her deer skins, to replace the armor and extra clothing that he had lost, but it didn’t seem to help him much. But the boy was determined, and Seren couldn’t help but admire him for that. Two days through the forest, over hilly ground littered with rocks, and he was still pushing onward, barely slowing to rest until darkness came.
Except now.
The Cygoa had stopped in the ravine below and were listening. To what, Seren couldn’t tell. She couldn’t hear anything out of place, and Sorcha had stopped fretting and lay silent and motionless next to her.
So they waited, and after a few minutes the Cygoa nodded to each other and began to move on once more, slowly navigating the rocky bottom of the ravine. Seren watched them disappear over a ridge, estimating that they were out of earshot, and was about to speak, to question Declan if he had heard something, when a quiet, low howl rose in the distance.
Sorcha was up on her feet instantly, scratching at the ground again.
It was a wolf’s howl, Seren knew. The noise was unmistakable, but it was a very long way off to the north.
“We should get moving again,” Declan said. “We shouldn’t be too far from Raleigh now, and the lake. Maybe we can find somewhere to shelter up there.”
“You mean in one of the old buildings?” Seren asked.
Declan nodded.
“I always thought Raleigh was a dangerous place, best left alone. That’s what Logan said.”
“Yeah, I heard that too, but we may need to find somewhere off the ground to avoid those wolves if they are heading this way.”
“Let’s hope they’re not,” said Seren.
Once they had left the ravine far behind them, Sorcha seemed to relax a little, trotting ahead of them and sniffing at the ground. The land sloped into a vast valley, and Declan struggled with the downward incline, though he always shrugged off Seren’s offers of help. Thick forest gave way to sparse woodland that was boggy and more difficult to navigate, but eventually Seren spotted a blur of blue green in the distance and pointed at it.
“Is that the lake?”
Declan nodded. “Looks like it.”
Seren stopped and for the second time that day took out a short tube, black in color, and held it up to look through it. Declan had ignored her the first time she had used the looking glass, but now she sensed his curiosity as though it were a tangible thing.
“It’s called a telescope,” she said, holding it out for him to see.
Declan took it and held it up to look at, peering through it as she did, and nearly dropped it with surprise. “What is it?”
“It’s a looking glass,” Seren said. “It’s not witch’s magic. It’s just a curved glass in the end. It makes things look bigger than they are so you can see far away.”
The boy frowned at her, and she shook her head. “Another thing you found along the way?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said quietly, thinking of the other items that Abernathy had given her. She would have to tell her story soon, she knew. But for now, the base had to remain a secret, as did many of the things she had been given when she left. People wouldn’t understand. And people could be greedy. Maybe not Declan, but others would cause trouble to get their hands on ancient technology, and there was no way she was willingly going to hand any of it over. Abernathy had given it to her.
The land heading into Raleigh was rough, and they had been traveling off road for most of it, to avoid any contact with the Cygoa, who mostly seemed to stick to the roads. Even the scout groups didn’t venture far from them, as though they had a problem traveling through the forests. Seren thought about that, wondering if the far north, where the Cygoa had come from, was mostly open land with little forest.
Even the few scout groups that they had found seemed to take only short jaunts out into the forest before heading back to a road, and the one that had just passed them was no different. The ravine they had climbed out of was barely five hundred yards from an old blacktop road, and that was the direction the scouts were heading in.
“That road should lead into Raleigh and the ruins,” Declan said quietly. “If we follow them but keep our distance, we should be able to keep out of sight and still follow them right past the ruins.”
Seren nodded and hoped that there were no other scout groups in the area.
Chapter 11
Rav slid down each rock, every footstep sending a slice of pain up through his leg and into his collarbone. He tucked his arm against his side, but every time his foot slid, his arms flew out to maintain balance, bringing with it another wave of pain.
He had waited. Watching. The Valk moved across the breach using the makeshift platform extending from one end of the ravine to the other. The rumble had created a vast gap between the rough stone walls, with the floor of the chasm lying twenty or more feet below. It would be too dangerous to climb the sheer vertical face to reach either of them without being seen or heard. Too much of the wall was loose earth and rubble which could collapse at any moment. The Valk who had been sniffing through the dead bodies disappeared back in
to the darkness, and that thought made Rav shiver. He looked upward, toward the thin slit of light that was the sky above, and thought of the climb. It was out of the question. His injury meant he had little strength to haul himself up, and the wall was treacherous. Unlike a rocky cliff that had been exposed to the elements for hundreds or thousands of years, he couldn’t depend on a single rock to hold him, to stop him from plummeting down the ravine once more, and he didn’t much fancy his chances of surviving that a second time.
A pile of Cygoa bodies sat against the near wall of the chasm. As he moved closer, Rav reached out, thrusting his hands into the satchels and pockets of the dead men. Soldiers rarely went into battle without a sword and flask, and these men were no different. Rav smiled as he pulled a metal flask from a man’s belt. The exterior of the flask had been decorated with finely-twisted steel which made Rav wonder how they might be able to create a fire hot enough to work the metal. The side of the flask had been dented, but the cap remained tight.