by Ryan Cahill
Dann cut him short by thrusting the bag into his arms, a little more forcefully than would usually be considered respectful. Erdhardt did not chastise him. He simply opened the bag and took a long look at its contents. His face twisted into a resigned frown. He passed the bag back to Vars, who had much the same reaction.
“Very well,” Erdhardt finally said, unfolding his arms and nodding as if only to himself. “Join us on the horses and let us return to the square. The councils – and everyone else – will be eager to hear what you have told us.”
As the horses approached the tents in the market square, crowds formed around them, eager to hear whispers of what trouble they had run into that caused them to be so late. Calen noticed a few of the other young men that he had seen near the brazier on the first day. By the look in their eyes, they had already started celebrating the conclusion of The Proving.
Erdhardt led the group on horseback through the forming crowds and directly to the feast tent, where they dismounted.
Ferrin Kolm stood guard at the entrance. The warm smile on his freckled face turned to a look of concern as he spotted Calen and the others. Erdhardt called him over as they approached. “Ferrin, please find Iwan Swett, Tarren Netley, and Jon Hildom for me. Ask that they make an audience with the council in this tent before the hour is out.”
“Yes, Master Hammersmith, I will do now.” Ferrin nodded, taking another worried look at Calen and the other boys.
“Thank you, Ferrin. Also, please ask them to bring their sons.”
Ferrin tilted his head as if to question why, but he thought better of it and simply nodded before heading off into the crowd.
Satisfied, Erdhardt turned back towards the group. “Come, boys. Let’s get you some food and water. Vars, would Freis be able to look at Rist’s leg?”
Vars nodded. He paused to give Calen’s arm a gentle squeeze before disappearing in the same direction as Ferrin.
“I think it best we go and let our families know the boys have returned safely. We do not want rumours reaching them first,” Lasch said.
“Aye, you’re right,” Tharn said. “I believe they are over near the campfires, enjoying a song or two. We’d best head over and return swiftly.” With that, the two of them were gone, leaving only Jorvill and Erdhardt to lead the boys into the feast tent.
The tent was massive, easily a hundred feet long and nearly just as wide. It seemed even larger inside than it was outside. The bone-white canvas of the tent was supported along the walls by massive wooden supports, with thick lengths of rope binding everything together in knots and loops. The bulk of the tent was taken up by rows of long wooden tables and benches. Brilliant white sheets were draped across each table, contrasted by rich emerald-green cloths that marked where people should be seated. Regardless of how tough the year had been, no expense was ever spared for The Proving.
According to Jorvill, the feasting had been postponed when the boys never returned that morning. At present, the only occupants of the tent were the villages’ council members, who all sat at a long, elaborately-dressed table at the other end of the massive tent. The table itself had to be about twenty feet long, large enough to fit the councils of all seven villages. They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn’t notice the tent’s new occupants.
“You boys take a seat. We’ll be back in a minute,” Erdhardt said, gesturing for Jorvill to follow. It only took a few minutes before Erdhardt and Jorvill returned, carrying baskets full of bread, cheese, and meat. Three women followed behind them, carrying large tankards of mead and buckets of water. Erdhardt and Jorvill tossed the baskets onto the table. Dann caught a small roll of bread in mid-flight as it bounced free from the impact.
“Well, eat up. You must be starving,” Erdhardt said. He accepted the tankard of mead one of the women offered him. “My thanks, Meera,” he said with a short bow of his head. She gave him a polite smile and returned his nod, then flitted away to carry out what was most likely a hundred other tasks before the feasting began.
They ate in silence, almost choking on their food as they shovelled it into their mouths like hungry dogs. Calen felt a pain in his stomach as he ate, but he couldn’t stop himself from eating more. Food had been scarce on the return journey. They dared not stop too long in any one place for fear of losing too much time, and when they did, they were often too tired to think about much else, other than lying down.
Vars was the first to return, with Freis, Ella, and Faenir in tow. The wolfpine did not stand on ceremony; it dodged past Erdhardt and bounded towards Calen in one massive leap, knocking him clean off his chair. There was a warm rumble in his throat as he nuzzled his nose into Calen’s chest.
“Faenir, get off—” Calen stopped short of finishing his sentence, instead wrapping his arms around Faenir and pulling him in tightly.
“Ahem.”
Calen looked up to see his mother staring back down at him, unimpressed. He shoved Faenir aside, much to the wolfpine’s disagreement. Calen got to his feet, patting down his shirt with his hands as if he would somehow be able to brush away the dirt and blood stains. Freis looked him up and down, horror etched on her face at the sight of him. She pulled him into a fearsome hug. His ribs complained, but Calen didn’t say a word. He just closed his eyes and welcomed the comforting embrace.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Freis said. She pulled out of the hug and gave him a loving smile. Her eye lingered for a moment, betraying a momentary flash of intense sadness. It was one that Calen knew well; the knowledge of loss, and the fear of its return. Puffing out her cheeks, Freis turned to Rist, to examine her new patient. “Now, I hear you got yourself into all manner of trouble out in that forest. Let me take a look.”
Rist protested as Freis fussed over him, examining him from head to toe. She turned back to Calen, her lip turned up in a half-smile. “You do listen.” She held up the strip of Rist’s shirt that had been wrapped around his leg. It was slightly damp and mottled with the greyish-green poultice that Calen had made. Calen couldn’t help but swell with pride. Of course, I do.
Ella nodded to Calen. “I’m happy you didn’t die,” she said, her tone flat. Calen couldn’t help but cough out a short laugh. Ella gave him a quick hug. “I’m glad you are back.”
“Me too. I didn’t know you cared.”
Ella gave Calen a sly wink before joining Freis in her inspection of Rist’s wound.
Not long passed before Tharn and Lasch returned, with the rest of their families in tow. Elia and Ylinda directed glancing smiles at Calen as they rushed to fuss over their own children. Ferrin was the last to enter the tent, and with him came Iwan Swett, Tarren Netley, and Jon Hildom. Anger burned in Calen when Fritz, Kurtis, and Dennet crept in after them.
Calen didn’t see Dann stand up. “You have some nerve coming in here after what you did. I’ll put you down where you stand if you take one step further. I—”
Erdhardt raised his hand in the air. Even Dann knew that meant for him to shut up. “I will have none of that, young Master Pimm. They have been brought here in the interest of fairness. We cannot simply take your word on what has happened.”
Dann’s face was incredulous. “Our word? Rist has an arrow wound in his leg. Do you think he shot him—”
Erdhardt glared at Dann. “Sit down. Now.”
Dann did as he was told. Erdhardt was a fair man with a warm heart, but even Dann’s stray tongue knew its limits.
Erdhardt turned, opening his arms to the group. “Now, if you will all join me, there is a matter that we must discuss. I have asked the councils of all seven villages to hear this matter. I trust there is no disagreement with this?”
“Aye, I should think not,” came a low but clear response from Tharn Pimm. Mumbles of agreement followed. A few muffled grumbles came from Iwan Swett, but he did not argue. Taking one last sweep across the group with his eyes, Erdhardt nodded and gestured for everyone to follow him. He made his way to the long table at the end of the tent.
As seemed to always be the way, it was Erdhardt who spoke first. “Now that we are all gathered here, Calen, can you please tell aloud what you told us earlier, when we found you at the forest’s edge?”
It took Calen a few seconds to realise that he was expected to speak next. He was suddenly aware that every set of eyes around the table were now fixed keenly on him. He cleared his throat and took a step forward. Well, here goes nothing.
Once more, Calen recited the story of their time in Ölm Forest. Concern and anger flickered across people’s faces. Kurtis and Dennet looked at their feet the whole time, not daring to raise their eyes. Calen thought he saw a grin on Fritz’s face, but it was hard to tell from the corner of his eye.
A few unintelligible murmurs passed between some of the council members, which Calen tried to ignore. Anger was replaced by shock at the mention of the Uraks. Even the council members who had shown little interest until that point now sat to attention with perked ears. He once again left out how the larger Urak died, crediting its kill to Dann’s arrow, to which Dann raised an amused eyebrow. Calen was short of breath when he finished. Relief flowed through him as he spoke the last words. Almost as if he were no longer there, the group broke out in a commotion, none of it aimed at Calen.
“Uraks, this close to the villages?”
“That can’t be. We would have heard something by now,” said a rat-faced man from Talin.
“One of the other groups would have seen them. This is ridiculous—”
“There will be order!” Erdhardt’s voice filled the empty tent as he slammed his hand down on the wooden table. The squabbling council members were quick to quiet their tongues. He continued, “There are two things we must establish here. The first is the truth of the altercation between these two groups of young men. The second is to decide what our course of action is regarding this Urak sighting.”
A thin man with greyish-white hair was the first to speak. Judging by his clothes, he was from the village of Pirn. The thick brown and cream cloth from which his shirt and trousers were cut was common there. “How, may I ask, are we even to be sure as to the truth of this sighting? It could simply be children making up stories. There hasn’t been an Urak sighting in these parts for over two years.”
Dann scowled. “Children?”
Erdhardt glared at Dann. His eyes were like steel. Dann turned his face to the floor like a chastised dog. Erdhardt pushed his chair back, got to his feet, and lifted his other hand in the air. In it was Dann’s drawstring bag, stained dark with dried blood. He turned the bag upside-down and dumped its contents onto the table, then sat, arms folded.
The group erupted in a frenzy of shouts and roars, mixed with yelps of shock as the Urak’s head rolled along the table. It came to a stop in front of Kara Thain, the village elder from Erith. Calen remembered her speaking before The Proving. Her eyes were a piercing ice blue, stark against her dark brown hair, which was slightly greying and tied up in a ponytail. Her beauty was not lost behind her stern expression.
She was one of the few not contributing to the chaos. She was observing. Her eyes flitted between the council members and the Urak’s head, unblinking. But it was clear to Calen that behind those icy eyes, she was deep in thought.
“Well… are you lot done?” Erdhardt asked after the shouting had persisted for a touch too long.
“What is the meaning of this, Erdhardt?” demanded a slightly plump lady with oily skin and thinning blonde hair. A deep scowl was set on her face.
“The honesty of these young men was questioned,” Erdhardt said. He did not attempt to hide the glare he directed at the thin man from Pirn. “Here is your proof that there were Uraks in Ölm Forest.”
It was Jorvill who spoke next. “What are we to do, then? How are we to know how many more, if there are any—”
“There are more.” Kara’s voice was soft, but there was a firm undertone. The council members paused to listen, as they did when Erdhardt spoke. She exchanged glances with the two other members of the Erith Council, as if seeking their blessing before continuing. “Until now, we were not sure if the reports were true. They mostly came in from the likes of hunters and trappers, or the occasional peddler. However, over the past few weeks, the reports have increased in number, and now this.” Kara wrapped her fingers around the rotting skull, holding it up in the air. “This is the first shred of solid proof we’ve seen.” The council members exchanged a few murmurs. Kara raised her voice a little, enough to quieten the chatter. “It could be nothing. There were only two, Calen?”
Calen nodded.
“Well,” Kara continued, “we know there are Urak clans that call Wolfpine Ridge their home, this is not news to us. We haven’t spotted any since the attacks a few years ago, but that could simply be luck. We always knew that they would raid again, eventually.”
“But you said the sightings have been increasing in number,” said a man with a chest as thick as oak barrels. His arms were the width of Calen’s head. His head was bald from front to back, and he had a number of brass rings in his ears and his nose, as was common among the seafaring folk of Salme.
“Yes, I did, Baren. And that is something we should keep an eye on. For now, in Erith, we will put the village guard on alert and perhaps look to erect a long-overdue palisade wall. To all those here who counsel villages along the base of Wolfpine Ridge, I would recommend you do the same.”
“Aye, I believe this to be a sound course of action.” Erdhardt folded his arms across his chest and nodded.
“Aye,” the council elders of Milltown and Talin said.
“Although we lay not along the edge of Wolfpine Ridge, the villages are one. Our unity is our strength, and should you need it, the village of Ölm will come to your aid.”
“As will Salme,” said the barrel-chested sailor, Baren.
“And Pirn,” said a small raven-haired woman with streaks of grey.
“Many thanks to you, friends. Your words warm my heart,” Erdhardt said. “Now that is settled, we have the matter of the altercation between these two groups of young men.”
“With all due respect, Hammersmith, both of these groups are of your village. It is an issue for The Glade, not an issue for this council,” said the thin man from Pirn.
Erdhardt cocked an amused eyebrow. “Not an issue for this council? This happened in The Proving, a rite of passage for all in the villages.” There was a rumble of agreement throughout the group. The thin man from Pirn folded his arms across his chest with an irritated grunt, but he did not argue. Erdhardt nodded. “Okay. Kurtis, Fritz, Dennet. Tell us what happened.”
“It was an accident,” Fritz said, not waiting for the other two to speak. “I was aiming for the kat, but it was so dark.”
Dann barely attempted to suppress a snort.
Ignoring Dann, Erdhardt raised a questioning eyebrow. “And can you explain why, instead of correcting your mistake and tending to the injury you caused, you instead pushed them farther into the forest? And stole the bear pelt?”
“They scared away the kat. That was our kill. We only took what was due to us! And we couldn’t trust them to not try and take it back, sir. I did what I thought was smart.” The silence that followed Fritz’s words was only broken by the sound of Erdhardt’s fingers drumming on the table.
“This is The Proving,” Erdhardt said, lifting his gaze from the table. “It is meant to throw young boys into the harshest of environments on their own and show them what the world can be like, to forge them into men. To test their
skill and their character. Sometimes, the honourable path is not easy, and the easy path is not honourable. This is a lesson that must be learned – and I think it has been. From the point of view of this council, I do not feel any further action needs to be taken. If you will all agree, I believe this to be settled.”
There was a quick haze of chatter before a chorus of “Aye” was heard from all members of the council. Calen felt a flare of anger when he saw the smirk spreading across Fritz’s face.
“We are settled, then,” said the barrel-chested man from Salme, as he rose from his seat.
“No,” Erdhardt said. “In the view of this council, the matter is settled, but from the view of The Glade—” Erdhardt looked between Jorvill and Verna, who both nodded. “This is not over. For tonight, we will celebrate The Proving.” Erdhardt’s eyes locked on Fritz, Kurtis, and Dennet. “Tomorrow, we will revisit this.”
Kurtis and Dennet nodded, only lifting their eyes from the ground momentarily. Fritz, however, protested. “That is not fair! You said it yourself. This is The Proving—”
“Shut your mouth, boy,” Tarren Netly, Fritz’s father, said while giving him a firm slap across the back of the head. “You’ll be lucky not to get a lashing.”
Tarren was a tall man with a grizzled beard and a stern jaw. He was not known for his soft touch. Calen couldn’t help but feel sorry for Fritz. Tarren had seemed to become even colder when Fritz’s two brothers died. They died with Haem, pushing the Uraks back through Ölm and into Wolfpine ridge. In a different world, it might have brought Fritz and Calen together. But that world was not this one.
Erdhardt eyed Tarren and Fritz with a grim look as he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “I will send word that the feasting is to begin shortly and that the victors of The Hunt are to be announced. All of you who took part in The Proving, we will give you an hour to clean yourselves up and prepare for the feast.”