Maerek waited, hovering in place with his back against the sun, his mouth still filled with the pyrophoric saliva. The human rider turned to follow the older dragon and was focused completely on his quarry. Boshk continued his turn, banking toward Maerek, with the other two cockatrices not far behind. He was going to bring the human and the cockatrice right to him.
Even as Boshk came closer, the human couldn’t see Maerek, and the cockatrices were not aware of the other dragon. Boshk banked higher, blocking the view of the cockatrices. Maerek prepared for his strike, breathing in deeply and stiffening his stomach muscles. Just as Boshk passed by, Maerek spewed fire. The cockatrices and the human rider had no time to adjust. Each flew right into the fire. Putrid feathers burned and singed. Each cockatrice started to fall, spinning and rolling end over end. Maerek dove down as Boshk tucked in his wings, spiraled, and then turned over to dive down on the cockatrices. Maerek dove and caught the more injured cockatrice, bit into its neck and thrashed the beast around, snapping its neck in multiple places.
The taste of blood and meat, though bitter and putrid in taste, triggered a release, an ease of tension, and with each bite, tear and swallow, the Instinct lessened, and sentience slowly returned. Boshk slowed his descent and hovered next to Maerek. Maerek growled, and the red tint in his eyes slowly lessened.
“Your daughter!” Maerek exclaimed as full memory and speech returned.
“What is done is done. Go to her, save her, and remember your promise.”
“You can come with me,” Maerek said, taking another bite of the somewhat rotted meat.
“The Instinct is almost upon me, and Simmons is not dead. Go, quickly! You will understand!”
Without another word, Boshk dove down into the fire. Maerek watched, took another bite, and remembered his promise. More than that, he remembered the oath, remembered the song of Boshk, and how those memories of Mearto, his daughter, became his. Maerek shook his head, trying to shake away the foggy, dumb feeling that the Instinct often left after feeding.
Maerek looked down at the fire. The smoke and flame obscured any view of the forest floor, but above the cracking and popping of the burning trees, a sharp metal pounding rose. The battle was continuing. Boshk was buying time for him to escape. It was then that Maerek remembered Boshk’s oath to him, that he would give his life to ensure his daughter survived. With the cockatrice in his arms, Maerek flew east, toward the towering Broken Blades.
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There was never a need to cross the Broken Blades. Memories of past generations sang of danger, death, and harm to those kin who traveled there. In order to visit the cousins that lived in other parts of the world, blending with the humans and traveling by barge around Caite was always the only method. The only way through the Blades was a single pass, carved ages ago from natural forces. From what Maerek could recall in the song, the path was narrow and the mountain walls were vertical and angled upwards at the peaks. Because of this, the sun never shined directly in the pass and most of it was in perpetual darkness.
Maerek flew the rest of the day toward the Blades, finishing off the cockatrice carcass limb by limb, bone by bone, until all that was left was a spinal column with a few ribs. Pieces and chunks of blackened meat stuck to bone and vertebrae, but the bird was enough to partially assuage the Instinct. Maerek could feel his intellect and memory returning with each passing moment. It wouldn’t be until the next day that he would be at his full mental prowess.
The sun was beginning to lower in the horizon behind him, and his wings started to ache. He scanned below him, searching for a safe place to rest. To the south was a small river with a wide, sandy bank. Maerek turned and flew toward it, lowering his altitude so that he was just above the treetops. He circled the river twice, judging the size of a sandbank and landed.
He left large impressions when he landed, and smaller ones as he took a couple steps toward the water. Using his tail, he swished the sand back and forth to cover up his trail. Maerek dipped his snout in the water and drank. The river was slow moving, cold and tasted like algae. Maerek then stretched his wings out and lay down on the sand. As he closed his eyes, he thought of Mearto, of Boshk, of his family, of the tainted blood that the hunters drank.
He’s not dead, Maerek thought. The “he” was Simmons. Unless he was completely eviscerated, past the point of regeneration, Simmons would be coming back, and be coming closer. Whatever time was purchased with Bosh’s life was slipping by with every moment of rest. The pass would be, at least, another day and a half’s worth journey of straight flying and resting near the entrance to the pass was not the best of ideas. Maerek decided that resting where he was for a short while would be better suited for him than pushing hard. He needed to save his strength for the hardships ahead.
It was with that thought, that decision to rest, that the pains of confinement, of the loss of his family, of Boshk’s sacrifice overcame him again. He was too weak shed tears, and those memories slowly, and softly, transformed into a restful, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 6
“Aye, the river is up ahead!” Maerek awoke, startled but laid still. There were humans approaching. “Best be holdin’ up for the night. Not much longer till sundown.” Maerek’s ears perked up at the voice. They were coming closer. Maerek blew smoke out of his nose and shifted into his human form. It was in the evening, not much later than when he lay down. He felt sluggish as dried sand fell from his side.
“Hey Japeth, wasn’t there a sand bar none too far from ‘ere?” another voice asked.
“Aye there was. Ah! Right here.” They were closer now, and Maerek was laying naked on the beach. Slowly, he got up and gingerly crept into the woods. Maerek ducked behind a fallen tree and watched the river, being ready to run, or attack if he needed to. He felt around for a large rock and grabbed it, just in case things became tenuous.
The group of men approached the beach. A suon pulling a wagon stopped just at the tree line, chirping and stomping its feet in agitation.
“Just as I remember it…” one of the traders said. Just then, the Conduit from the cave came out from the woods and walked toward one of the traders. Maerek charged out of the tree line, holding his rock above his head.
“Not another step,” Maerek said in their accent. “I got dead aim.”
“Easy there, sir, easy. We mean ya no harm,” the leader said. “Tell me, why are you naked on the beach in the middle of nowhere?” The leader took a step toward the dragon and Maerek held his arm back, ready to throw.
“I mean it! Not another step. Who are you? What are you doing? Why is she with you?”
“I’m Japeth,” the leader said. He gestured toward his group and stared at the girl for a moment. “We’re tradesmen between Ruiska and Tessír.” Maerek lowered his rock slightly.
“Maerek, it’s alright,” the girl said softly.
“You’re not hunters?” Maerek asked. They were dressed in fur coats and leather pants, with calf high leather boots. Each also carried a leather bag that was strapped around their shoulder.
“We are of a sort,” Japeth said.
“You’re not one of them, are you?”
“Maerek, listen to me. I said it’s alright,” the girl said a little more firmly.
“You know him?” One of the traders asked the Conduit. Maerek wasn’t sure who spoke and shuffled forward, ready to throw his rock. The hunters took a step back. Maerek looked at the girl searching for any sign of harm. She held her head up and looked confident, comfortable even, among the men. Each was, different in size and appearance from each other. Not related, Maerek thought.
The leader, Japeth, was short, slightly rotund, but not without some physique. Under his fur coat, he wore a leather jerkin over a green tunic. He had a short, gray beard and was slightly bald. Maerek thought that he and Japeth looked similar save for height and the shape of face. The other traders, save for one, surrounded the girl, holding onto tools that could be used as makeshift weapons. One held onto a h
atchet, another gripped a rope weighted with a rock, two traders flipped long wooden rods in their hands. The last of the traders held a curved bow, an arrow knocked but not drawn.
“We hunt bear, deer and elk,” Japeth said calmly, starting to approach Maerek. “We trap too. We sell the furs, meat and bone on the edge of the desert on the other side of the Blades. The girl we found three days ago, wandering around in the woods, terrified as a…” Japeth paused. “Wait, what d’ya mean one of them?”
“The hunters, they call themselves, killed my family,” Maerek stepped back. “Took everything I had and took me as prisoner, held her prisoner. We,” he gestured to the girl, “escaped, we were… um… separated and have been on the run.”
“No,” the girl spoke up. “You’ve been on the run.”
The fog that was so pervasive in his mind when he was held captive finally lifted, and he took in the situation with the full prowess of his intellect. The girl was among friends and protectors. She was safe, calm, if not a little angry with Maerek’s behavior. One of the traders held a long wooden rod and stood closest to the girl. His knuckles were white from his grip on the wood. These humans didn’t pose much of a threat, but from their perspective, it was five-to-one against a middle-aged, naked man who held nothing more than a rock. If only they knew, Maerek thought. He mentally laughed to himself and set the rock down. The rest of the hunters relaxed, sheathed daggers and axes, returned arrow to quiver, and held the long rods as a walking stick.
“Those hunters,” Japeth started and then spat at the ground. “Those hunters give us a bad name. Last I heard, they were seeking dragon blood. Horrid bunch they are.” He turned back to his group. “Do we have a spare set o’ clothes for him?” The trader with the bow went back to the wagon and flipped over the canvas tarp. Japeth took off his cloak and wrapped it around Maerek’s shoulders. The archer returned with a large shirt, leather pants, and a pair of lace-up boots.
“I’m not sure if these will fit,” the archer said as he looked Maerek in the eyes. The archer paused, frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything. The slight hesitation, the frown, the quick, but deep look was enough to signal to Maerek that the archer knew there was more in front of him than a recently escaped captive.
“Thank you,” Maerek said in a whisper.
“I’ll take him to the camp site and get a fire going,” the archer called out. “Give him some time to change and get comfortable.” With that, the archer put his arm around Maerek’s shoulders and led him back into the forest.
The archer led Maerek to the camp and went back into the forest for wood while Maerek changed. The archer came back shortly and started to work on the fire, scrapping a flint and steel against dried pine needles and moss.
The shirt Maerek was given was tight around the chest, and the leather pants only went down to his shins. Maerek left the shirt unbuttoned and kept the cloak wrapped around him. The orange glow of dusk faded into the light purple of early evening. The campsite was an open area where three large trees had fallen, creating almost a diamond shape clearing. Small bushes, saplings, and thistles vegetation had been cleared by the suon and the traders earlier in the day. Maerek sat on his heels and leaned against one of the fallen trees. Long strands of cedar bark lay decomposing on the ground near the tree, leaving splintered portions of the tree behind. Maerek pulled at another loose portion of bark and set it next to him, releasing a fresh wave of sweet, cleansing cedar that reminded him of one of his cousins. The smell combined with the smoke and old pine needles creating a calming atmosphere.
The traders’ suon was making its way back to camp, chomping loudly on trees and bushes, stomping and scratching at the ground as it walked. The crickets and frogs began their simple songs against the constant humming of the river and crackling of the fire.
“I take it your group comes this same way every year?”
“As long as I’ve been with ‘em,” the archer said flatly. He continued to breathe slowly on the fire, carefully adding larger sticks and twigs, watching intently as the flames lapped up new fuel.
“My name is Maerek,” Maerek said, trying to continue to the conversation.
“Keane,” the archer said. “You’ll meet the rest of our band this evening.”
“And the girl, she is a relative?”
“She is Aelex’s sister. She mentioned that she had help escaping. Was that you?”
“Yes and no,” Maerek replied somberly. “There was one other, but he didn’t make it.”
“So I heard,” the archer still spoke in a flat, cool tone, not even looking up at the dragon.
“You believe her then?” there was a tone, slightly antagonistic in Keane’s voice that hinted of mistrust.
“I trust that she believes that she saw what she saw, that she believes she was rescued by two other captives, that through the sacrifice of one, you and she could escape.”
“You imply that my intent was to hold her as a captive…” Maerek was going to say more, but held his tongue, seeing what other information he could glean.
“That is everyone’s intent with her.” Keane paused from building the fire. Satisfied with its growing strength, he leaned up against a log opposite Maerek. He then picked up a long, straight stick and stuck the end of it into the fire, watching the grey lichen burn on the end of the stick, and then blacken in the young flame. “She is unique, and I am sure you know why. She has been sought after her entire life, at least since she came into what she is. First it was the Tessíran military who took her via conscription and sent her north into the Seeps. Then she was commissioned as a private medic for the council members, then with the trade routes, next, she was traded as a secret companion to the emissary of Caite, lastly being sent by barge to Ruiska to be transferred to where you ended up.
“I, as well Aelex and the rest of the traders, have only heard what I have told you over the last three days. She won’t talk of her last six years. You, and all of your intellect, can deduce why. She has been from one shackle to the next, so forgive me if I don’t place much faith in even one such as you.”
A slight breeze sidled through the camp. Maerek sniffed the air and then rubbed his nose, as if to rub out the growing chill of the air. The other traders and the suon were making their way back to the campsite with what smelled like a small catch of fish, trout most likely. If the food was able to be shared, it would be a well-received snack and a reprieve to the still lingering taste of carrion. Thinking more on the moment, time with Keane was growing short. The way Keane spoke shortly, disengaging in conversation except to state what the group already knew, and that last phrase, even in one such as you, said that Keane knew more about Maerek than what Maerek was comfortable with.
“What do you mean one such as you?” Maerek asked in a mildly defensive tone. “And if it was my intent to maintain her as a captive, why would I let her run away after our escape?”
“A series of vertebra from a cockatrice spread over a five-mile stretch of back country a couple days’ trek back, mangled with predatory and feeding patterns consistent with that of a large carnivore,” Keane smiled slightly, twisted the stick in the fire, and the pushed it a little further in. “If I was you, I wouldn’t stand too close to the fire light.”
Maerek tensed and stared into the burning embers. Maerek knew that Keane knew what he was. No more needed to be said or asked concerning that point, but the slightly antagonistic attitude of Keane was off-putting. Logically, Keane would not be a remotely attributed to the hunters and their agenda given the rapport within the group, the missing sister, and the kindness shown. But humans couldn’t be trusted. Maerek sniffed the air again. The rest of the traders and the Suon were very close now.
“I take it, then, that you are going to hand me over to the hunters at the soonest chance?” Maerek asked aggressively, trying to goad out more information.
“Have no fear of me,” Keane replied as he twisted the burning stick and pushed it a little further into the fire. The other trad
ers were just on the outside of camp, just out of earshot. “That’s a history best saved for later.”
Both of them sat silently around the fire, staring into the golden yellow and red flames. The sun had set and the deep blue of twilight covered their surroundings. Fireflies began to dance and buzz around the wood, their amber glow speckling the ragged bark of the tall trees. Clouds slowly crept in from the south, slowly riding across the darkening sky. Colors of violet, red, and indigo reflected of their gray canvases as the last of day’s light disappeared.
“Naeru, you practically sang those fish out the river!” Japeth exclaimed as he walked into the campsite. The crew agreed with either an ‘Aye,’ or ‘Mhm’ and entered, followed lastly by the suon pulling the wagon. The man who led the suon with one hand, lifted a string of freshly cleaned trout with his other hand and shrugged.
“Not everyone is so blessed from the Faye to be given such great gifts,” Naeru said, smiling. He was a short, lean man with a dark-tan complexion and almond shaped eyes. His head was shaved, and in the dimming light, Maerek could make out a circular tattoo on his scalp. “But not all credit should be given to hunters, of stream, of field, or of forest. Thomas has proven, yet again, to be a great gatherer among the blind.”
Thomas, a tall and slender man with curly brown hair and a two-week old growth of facial hair, walked while holding the bottom of his dark-green tunic in front of him, carrying a decent pile of mushrooms, tubers, and salmon berries.
While the Japeth, Keane and the other traders set up camp, Thomas and Naeru started working on dinner. Naeru held the fish upside-down, exposing the meaty muscles that were splice open, and Thomas set and even mix of berries, mushrooms, and tubers, into the fish. Naeru sewed up the fish using the fishing line and hook, tying off each end with a tight knot. The process was repeated for each of the twelve fish. Next, Thomas set up a make-shift spit rotisserie with some rope and strong branches from around camp. Lastly, the fish were skewered in the middle of the back, just below the spine with a fresh, green and bendable branch, and then lashed to a larger stick before being placed over the fire to cook.
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