The priestess hesitated.
“What is it?” demanded the Matriarch.
The priestess shot Aradma a nervous glance. “I’m embarrassed to say,” she said. “He is skilled at avoiding our notice. It is only happenstance we saw him. I’m not sure we’ll be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”
The Matriarch laughed again. “He is an untamed man. The goddess will lead you to him, and he will learn our ways. Send out hunting parties and bring him home. Send women to lead them. He must come to us unharmed, but come he must.”
Aradma threw back the blankets and leaped to her feet. She grabbed her clothes, fastening the buckles and ties around her chest and waist, and then rushed from the Matriarch’s bed to leap off the balcony into the expanse. Feathers sprouted from her skin and her outstretched hands shifted into wings to catch the air. The white falcon flew out of the top of the cloister into the morning sky.
17 - The Lord of the Hunt
The seelie man crouched naked amid the treetops, keeping perfectly still so light would pass through him and render him invisible to the troll hunting party that ran and jumped through the branches around him. They were not yet aware of his presence in their jungle, and he wished to keep it that way. Better to let them pass.
He stood seven feet tall, with smooth, copper-colored skin. His beard fell to his chest, matching shoulder-length hair to form a blond mane that framed his otherwise bare face. His eyes held a faint luminescence, deep blue irises with flecks of glowing gold, and his ears swept back high from his head like two soft blades. He crouched, poised for action, muscles drawing a taut, defined coil of strength from his shoulders, through his trunk, and to his ankles.
Ten days prior, his falling light from the Otherworld had descended upon a hilltop within the heart of the jungle, becoming a pool of water. It absorbed the sun’s rays, and when he had emerged from the water, the color of his skin reflected the captured light. Emerald green markings—spirals and thorny vine-like curves—had also covered his body.
After rising from the pool, he had wrestled in vision quests with the dead Fae ghosts of hunters and artisans, all seeking to possess his mind. When they had failed to persuade him to surrender, they then sought to usurp his personality. In the depths of his mind, he had tracked them through memories of the forests of the Otherworld, eventually capturing, slaying, and devouring the hearts of each of them, absorbing their knowledge and essence while putting to rest the threat of their personalities. After ten days battling for his sanity, he’d awoken to emerge victorious. He understood these had not been physical occurrences in the real world, no matter how vivid they’d seemed, but he could still taste the citrus tinge of their thick blood in his mouth.
Then there had been the Dragon. With each heart devoured, he had gained more knowledge and understanding, until he knew enough to track her. The Green Dragon tried to reason with him, then seduce him, but he would allow no other claim on his mind or soul. He had fought with her and won, and then pulled her heart out of her body and feasted upon it until the clarity of her past brought the clarity of his name: Tiberan. He Who Masters.
When he had come away from his vision quest, his body markings had vanished, leaving only the copper skin behind. He knew he was only ten days old. He knew this was not normal, and that he had the body and rational mind of an adult of his kind. He also knew that his kind was new to the world. He understood much about the Otherworld, but that land was gone. The Archdragon’s memories were only fragments, and he did not know where he was in Ahmbren. His first priority was to survive. Then he would see about finding other seelie.
In the ensuing weeks, he had observed other troll hunting parties like the one he watched today, strange humanoid hunters with the tusks of boars and large penetrating eyes, and had decided to leave them be. He did not know whether they were friendly. He’d watched them hunt other creatures in the jungle, and knew them to be formidable in groups.
He waited until he was alone again before he moved. He dropped gracefully to the jungle floor and walked in the opposite direction of the troll hunters.
Tiberan came to a clearing and stopped. There slept a tyrannosaur, curled in a half-dug hole and hidden by great leafy fronds that were both tall and wide. The tyrannosaur’s skin was slate gray, with golden stripes running the length of its back. Its head listed to the side and it snorted, a tiny front arm twitching in its sleep.
The elf strode purposely across the clearing and stopped beside its head.
“Good morning!” he addressed the creature. “I apologize for waking you, but I have need of your assistance.”
The dinosaur’s eye opened. It focused on the tiny, naked man, darting left and right for a brief moment. It then widened into surprise at the morsel standing so readily in front of him as the reptile wakened.
Tiberan did not give the creature time to rise to its feet. He reached out his hand, and green coils of energy, visible only in his mind’s eye, flowed from his breast and fell upon the tyrannosaur. The energy seeped through its skin into its thoughts. The tyrannosaur twitched for a moment, and then looked at the elf with new eyes.
Through the green link, the soul of the elf and dinosaur met, and in that meeting place a new being emerged. Tiberan felt the spirit of the creature within him, its great power and hunger, and its joy of hunting. And he could feel that the dinosaur felt and experienced him, his rational mind, and it knew intelligent awareness for the first time.
We are brothers, you and I, Tiberan formed the words and feelings in his mind.
You have a great spirit within you, the tyrannosaur responded. Not like the other soft snacks. The tyrannosaur’s instinct, understanding, and feelings were granted the power of language by the bond shared with the elf.
I need to be away from here. Far from the other… snacks.
My lands are far and wide. Climb on my back, and I will take you to a place of solitude with only those who live by hoof, tooth, and claw. A place where others fear to go.
Tiberan climbed on to the beast’s back, and the great dinosaur pushed itself to its feet. It dashed off south into the rainforest, all other denizens of the jungle giving them a wide berth.
The tyrannosaur brought Tiberan to the steps of the ruins of an ancient city. It left the elf there and disappeared back into the jungle.
Tiberan surveyed the ruins. He suspected the city had once contained many tall structures, but these were now crumbled into a series of concentric tower circles, as if massive wind chimes had been gathered and bound, and then shattered and crushed. Now, greenery grew over the rocks. Strange, however, that the jungle had not grown up even more than it had. He wondered what people lived here once. Carvings on the stone reminded him of his Fae memories. A touch of the Otherworld, perhaps, once, long ago.
No humanoid tracks touched the ground here. The tyrannosaur was right. Mortals feared this place. He felt no such fear and walked into the ruins. Some of the towers were still intact, two and three stories high, and there were chambers and tunnels beneath the buildings. Strange that so many artifacts survived. He rummaged through piles of junk to learn what he could about this place.
He lay that night in an old courtyard under the open moon. Before he closed his eyes to sleep, he saw a shadow move under an old doorway. He stood and waited expectantly for the being to come forward.
A pale image of an elven man slowly floated into the courtyard, as if made of mist and smoke. Tiberan could see through him.
“Begone, shade,” he said. “Do not trouble me with your sorrow. I bear you no ill will.”
The shade regarded him before hissing in an echoing whisper, “You are not like the others. You are almost as we were once.”
“You are sidhe,” Tiberan stated.
“We were. Now we are made bansidhe by the darkling princes of Artalon who razed this city in the Second Age, a city that had stood for an age before that. They bound us to these towers until the last stone washes away.”
&nbs
p; Hundreds of pale shades joined him, filling the courtyard. He saw the sad memories of men and women in their haunted features.
“We drive away all those who seek to plunder our memories,” he said. “But they… they were different. Humans, gnomes, and trolls, all seeking treasure. You share our spirit. You are not sidhe, but Fae blood runs in your veins, elf lord.”
Tiberan stood humbled before the throng of his people and the long memories of their suffering. “My heart grieves for you,” he said. “Your curse is terrible to endure. I will leave your memories undisturbed.”
“Yes, yes! Terrible to face the endless ages and not move on. Only able to watch our city slowly crumble, unable to leave this place.”
“Kill him!” one of the bansidhe women hissed. “Let us drink of his torment.”
“No. We will not kill our own kind.” The shade stepped close to the seelie. Tiberan could see that his face had been beautiful in life but was now terrible to behold. “I am Khalg’hast. You may take from this place. It is a small comfort to give aid to one of our blood. Maybe some day you may take our vengeance upon the line of those who destroyed our cities.”
Tiberan considered for a moment. “I will honor your memories,” he said.
“An evasive answer, but you are wise to give such. Fair enough, elf lord. We will leave you now.”
Tiberan bowed, and the shades retreated into the stone walls.
The next morning, Tiberan explored the dead city. There were vaults where elven artistry, imbued with magic, stood preserved and untouched by time’s withering. In one of the chambers below ground he saw a fresco of exquisite detail. He did not know how old it was, but the pigments used had been magically preserved. It depicted the inhabitants of this island, the tusked trolls. It showed men brandishing whips and herding the women like cattle. The next panel showed two goddesses, one clad in leaves and the other in stars, descending from the heavens to elevate them above the men. The final panel was ruined, the wall having crumbled long ago.
In what presumably had been a guardroom, he found a pair of shiny steel daggers, thin, sharp, and durable, still in sheathes attached to a leather belt. He strapped them to his waist. He openly grinned, however, when he saw an ebony bow adorned with decorative thorns mounted on the wall. A quiver of black-shafted arrows accompanied it, completing the set. He took a selection of other supplies, and then left the sidhe ruins behind. Despite the promised protection, he didn’t see any use in tempting the dead.
He settled to the north, building a small shelter up high in a tree overlooking a crystal blue lake. It was a little closer to troll territory, but far enough to be out of the way of their usual hunting routes. He quickly befriended the animals there and negotiated a spy network with birds and squirrels to alarm him of danger in exchange for convincing a family of pythons to move downriver a ways. He ate the fruits of the trees, but he also hunted for meat. He did not use any of his influence on animals when hunting, relying instead on patience and skill with his bow and setting snares and traps.
The sun rose high in the sky on a particularly hot, cloudless day. Tiberan ran across the treetops, jumping from limb to limb, exulting in the freedom of the open air between them. He had hunted for weeks along this trail, and he knew every turn and knuckle of every tree branch, gaining insight from each creature he befriended. Were it not for such keen attention to detail, the raptors would have taken him in his moment of carelessness.
He dropped to the ground by a calm elbow in the river and stripped his weapons from his body. Wading into the water to bathe, he delighted in the cool relief from the sun’s heat. He submerged himself beneath the surface and then came up for air slowly. He stopped with his nose just above the water, droplets falling from his wet golden hair past his eyes. There, on the leafy riverbank, a single branch bent against the natural flow.
His eyes narrowed, and his keen sight pierced the foliage, discerning two baleful yellow eyes gleaming back at him. The creature they belonged to froze too when it realized they made eye contact. It pulled back its scaled, clawed fingers from the bush and the out-of-place branch slowly returned to harmony with the surrounding life.
The birds had grown silent, but he sensed their presence nearby. He reached out and felt four others like the owner of the yellow eyes, all focused on him.
It emerged slowly from the brush, revealing the toothy face of a raptor, and uttered a low, chuckling growl made eerie and deep by an echoing in its nasal cavity.
Tiberan locked his eyes on the raptor and reached out with his soul. We are brothers, you and I, he said. The prey you seek is elsewhere. Good hunting.
The raptor grinned. Tiberan felt a hissing laughter, cold and cruel, reverberate through their soul-link. He froze for a moment in surprise, realizing the full implication of the violent rejection the creature had hurled at him.
I am not in control.
The hunter had become the prey.
He couldn’t fight them, not on their own terms. His soft skin and fingers were no match for their long claws, but the sidhe blades were, if he could get to them. He was acutely aware of them laying on the shore, and how foolish he had been to leave his weapons behind. He knew he was not equipped like the jungle’s creatures. He had forgotten himself, been careless, and now nature would remind him of his place.
He wasn’t completely unarmed, however. He had his reason, the most powerful tool of a sapient mind. And he had the touch of the Green Dragon at his disposal. He concentrated once more, seeing a quick flash of animal life around him. He dipped into the water and reached out to the crocodile swimming lazily by.
I have need of your assistance, he mentally sent. He was relieved to feel the usual response of pleasure he got from creatures exulting in the increased intelligence they enjoyed through the link. I am hunted by raptors and am unarmed.
We will help you, was the response. Bring them into the water.
The raptor’s three companions slithered out of the reeds, and the four of them waded into the water, hunkering down to nose level with the surface and closing in on Tiberan’s position.
The water’s surface exploded as crocodiles grabbed the raptors with their great jaws and turned over and over, pulling the dinosaurs underneath in a frothy roiling of blood. Tiberan leaped forward, legs pumping and water churning around his knees in a roaring crash. He rushed to the riverbank and dove towards his blades. He grabbed them, rolled, and sprang to his feet.
One raptor remained on the shore. He stood twenty feet from the elf on the bank, safely out of the crocodiles’ reach. He turned and aimed his head at Tiberan, and then uttered a guttural chirping growl as he launched himself forward.
Tiberan had just enough time to duck out of the way and swing his blade. His knife struck true, slicing into the raptor’s flank. The creature turned swiftly and pounced on the elf, hind claws digging into Tiberan’s thighs. Tiberan reflexively threw his left arm forward, planting his elbow in the raptor’s neck and holding its jaws at bay, inches from his face. The raptor’s arms raked their claws down Tiberan’s side, opening six parallel wounds.
Fiery pain shot down the elf’s body. The raptor’s hind claws dug deeper into his thighs, searching for arteries. He wanted to cry out and surrender to the pain, but he knew if he did, he was dead. He grunted and brought his right arm up and slashed with the dagger. The raptor’s throat offered no resistance to the seelie blade, parting readily to the flow of red from its jugular. Hot blood bathed Tiberan’s face, and he roared triumphantly as the raptor’s life faded and it lay limp on top of him.
Opening up the raptor’s chest, he cut out its heart and consumed it, reveling in the vital organ’s life force moving into him and filling his belly with heat—just as the blood flowed down his lips and warmed his chin.
He stood, filled with the strength of the battle, and turned to see he was alone on the shore. The crocodiles had dragged their prey away, and only silence greeted him. The battle rage faded and he stumbled, passing out on the
sand.
He awoke the next morning after sunrise to a wet, velvety softness nudging his face. He opened his eyes to see the nose of a great tiger curiously prodding at him. The beast’s black stripes contrasted deeply with a rich orange coat, and his yellow eyes stared straight into his.
Tiberan grunted and touched the great cat’s mind. The tiger’s eyes widened as the influx of intelligence raised his own awareness. Their minds met, and their souls resonated together in a harmony Tiberan had not felt with the other beasts of the jungle. The green light went forward into the tiger, and some of it remained there. An orange light, a piece of the tiger’s soul, traded places and came into Tiberan, infusing itself in Tiberan’s spirit.
You have survived the raptors’ hunt, the lord of cats acknowledged. Few do. You devoured his heart, and now his territory is yours.
And yet, Tiberan answered, I will follow him into death. He knew he was too weak to move, and it was only a matter of time until his life faded away. As for his brothers, I received aid from the crocodiles of the river.
The tiger snorted. A strange creature who can get crocodiles to meddle beyond their own affairs. The cat reflected upon his own newfound intelligence. But I suppose it is not hard to believe after all.
The tiger clamped his jaws firmly but gently on Tiberan’s neck and shoulders. He pulled and moved the elf through the sand, causing Tiberan to hiss in pain. You will not die today, the tiger said. Climb on my back or I will drag you.
Tiberan forced himself to sit up. The tiger lay down beside him, and Tiberan managed to pull himself onto the cat’s back. His long legs dragged on the ground, but he held onto the tiger’s body as the great cat pulled him through the underbrush away from the hot sun. He took the elf to the mouth of a cool cave with a fresh pool of water just inside. Tiberan rolled off the tiger and lay on the ground, grateful to be out of the sun’s piercing heat.
The tiger proceeded to lick Tiberan’s wounds clean of sand and dirt. When the cat was satisfied, he took a step back from the light elf. I will hunt now.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 17