Endric focused, listening. The breathing seemed to come from everywhere. It was quiet and steady, but it filled the cavern. The soft clatter of claws on the stone was there to his right.
Endric lunged forward.
This time, he swung up with the club, swinging with all of his might.
When it connected, he felt a jarring sense through his arms. There was a strange whine.
Endric didn't allow himself to think about it and swung the club back down once more. As he did, he heard another soft whine. Then there was nothing. No movement. The breathing stopped. The sound of the claws on the stone stopped as well.
Moving back along the rock, he finally allowed himself to let out a relaxed sigh. He rested there, listening, but no other sounds came. There was nothing.
Finally, he managed to drift off into a semi-restful sleep. The sounds of the cave around him were no longer terrifying. Even if there were anything here for him to worry about, Endric had decided that it couldn't change anything. There would be nothing that he could do.
As he drifted into his slumber, he wondered how many more days he could survive like this. Would he be able to last long enough to even reach the groeliin? And if he did, he doubted that he would be any in any shape to fight them, and doubted that he would be in any shape to survive if he did face them.
Perhaps that was the cruelest thing of all that the Yahinv had done. They had offered him ways to pay penance for his father breaking his oaths and had given him the hint of a hope that he could survive, and that he only had to destroy a brood before he could return, but he might not even reach the brood to face them. Surviving the mountains naked, unarmed, and alone might be more than what he could do.
Those thoughts haunted him as he drifted to sleep.
12
When Endric came awake, a hint of light drifted through the mouth of the cave. The air stunk, and it took him a moment to realize why. The animal that he'd killed the night before still rested near him. Some of the stink might actually be him, from his scraped and opened wounds, or it might come from the filth that he had dragged himself through during the last day. If some of the stench came from a wound that he might have sustained, it was one that might already be infected and already festering. If that were the case, Endric didn't like the odds of surviving for long.
He backed away from the creature, moving closer to the mouth of the cave. He felt better than he did the night before. At least he wasn't as tired. His body ached, throbbing from what he’d been through, but not so much as he thought it should.
He glanced at the fallen creature but couldn't make it out in the faint light streaming in through the opening of the cave. A momentary fear surged through him. What if he’d attacked a merahl?
That wasn’t possible. If he had, Endric wouldn’t be able to return to the Antrilii, even if he managed to survive. If he had attacked and killed one—even unknowingly in the darkness—he doubted they would welcome him back.
Endric paused near the mouth of the cave. He needed to know, didn't he?
Scooting forward, Endric reached for the shadowed shape of the creature, praying that maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he it had been something smaller than what he first thought.
Using the broken off branch that had been his makeshift club, he pushed on the creature but found it too heavy to move.
Endric felt his heart fluttering.
He scooted around the animal, and used the club and shoved.
As he did, there was a soft scraping along the cave floor. It reminded him of when the animal had prowled around him the night before when it had been attempting to attack him. He listened, making certain that the damned creature wasn't still alive.
There was no movement and no other sound.
Endric started pushing again, this time with as much strength as he could muster. The animal flipped over, and he saw a flash of dark fur.
As they neared the mouth of the cave, relief swept through him. It wasn’t a merahl all. It was a laca.
This seemed too far north for them to prowl. And they hunted in packs. This one had been alone—hadn’t it?
He nudged it with the club a few more times, but it didn't move.
His stomach rumbled, and he swallowed. He was thirsty and hungry. Now that he had an animal here, could he bring himself to eat laca? He’d never had laca, but there was no reason he couldn't eat the creature.
Better yet, now that he had the laca, he had an alternative to the woven grass wrap that he had created. All he had to do was bring himself to hack through the creature’s hide, and if he could, he would able to clothe himself. Laca fur was used for warmth, so Endric had little reason to doubt that he would be able to use it to wrap around himself. He might even be able to cut sections free to make coverings for his feet. He wouldn't have thread, so he would have to find some other way to wrap the hide around his body. The options weren't necessarily appealing, but he could use the bone from the laca, sharpen it against the stone ground, and perhaps thread tendons through it, using those to weave coverings for himself.
Doing so would take the better part of the day, but he needed to find a way to protect himself first, then he could continue onward.
With growing certainty, he knew that he couldn't complete what had been asked of him for the penance, but he allowed himself a hint of hope that he might be able to survive long enough to move beyond the mountains and reach the southlands once more so that he could rejoin the Denraen.
By evening, Endric had managed to clean most of the hide. He had cut narrow strips to wrap around his feet and used tendons to weave through them, tying them around his feet. He kept the fur side toward his skin, the soft fur providing welcome relief from the pain of the rock that had scraped him. They weren't much, but it was better than what he had.
Cutting the rest of the hide was more difficult. He hadn't decided the best way to do so, but he didn't want to waste any of the fur. All of it would be necessary to keep him warm. He had been careful, using a sharpened stone, jabbing through the creature’s hide as much as he could. It was slow work, and he did the best that he could.
Now that he was done, he set the animal hide outside in the sun to dry. He anticipated spending another night in the cave. It was safe here. Protected. More than that, he had taken some time to examine the location and was comfortable that there was no other way into it. The only way in and out was the way he had come in, and the way he suspected the laca had entered as well.
Now that he had the animal skin, he had to think about what he would do with his hunger. The idea of eating raw—and possibly already rotting—laca flesh didn't appeal to him. He considered starting a fire, but would there be an easy way to do that?
He didn't have much that he could burn. There was the grass that he had plucked and then woven. There was the club. Other than that, even were he to have a fire, there wasn’t much else he could use for fuel. Endric didn't want to venture out of the cave and didn't want to risk getting stuck trying to squeeze back in, and possibly risk another animal making its way in here. That left either going hungry or eating raw flesh.
Endric decided to go hungry.
Even more than his hunger, he would need to find something to drink. Experience had shown him that dozens of small streams work through the mountains, steadily dripping down from snow melt high above. All he had to do was find one and he would have something from which he could drink. Even if he weren't able to find a stream, he had the hope that could he climb high enough, he could reach some of the snow and could melt and drink that were it necessary.
He was tired already from the day spent working at the laca. Removing the creature’s hide had been incredibly wearing. Could he rest already? Doing so felt as if he were giving up but he didn't think he had the strength to venture out of the cave and risk himself once more.
Endric sank to the cave floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. He still wore the grass skirt wrap. It had provided more warmth than he had expected and he
was thankful that he had taken the time to do so.
As he sat there, it felt as if time slowly crept by.
Endric stared outside, watching the sun, feeling the wind as it whistled into the open cave mouth. He remained silent, the sound of the wind his only company. After a while, even that began to change, shifting so that it no longer gusted so loudly into the cave.
Endric awoke to even louder whistling. He sat there, his mind struggling to adjust. In the darkness, he heard something smacking, a steady, rhythmic sound that seemed to come from outside the cave. It took Endric a moment to realize what it was that he heard.
The hide that he had spent most of the day cutting and trimming now flapped violently against the mouth of the cave. If he did nothing, he suspected it would blow away, and all of the work that he had done, all of the time that he had invested in trimming it away, would be wasted.
Endric crawled toward the mouth of the cave and reached up, into the darkness, and grabbed the hide. He dragged it back into the mouth of the cave and tossed it off to the side. It still needed time to dry, but it was better than it had been before.
He heard a soft growl, and Endric tensed.
What was that?
It was close. Much closer than he was comfortable with.
Was it within the cave or did the sound come from outside?
Endric clutched the club, ready to strike. He'd felt the nervous anxiety of fear when he thought that he might have attacked one of the merahl and it made him pause as he listened for the growl. When the sound came again, Endric crawled toward the back of the cave, waiting.
Shadows drifted across the cave.
This time, Endric wasn't about to wait and wasn't about to risk getting attacked. When the clattering of claws came upon the rock again, Endric lunged forward, swinging his club with the same ferocity as he had the night before. He connected on his first blow. There was a satisfying— if sickening—thunk as the club struck.
He heard a soft whimper, and he struck again.
Was that another whimper?
If it was another laca, he could use the fur. Maybe even the meat.
Out of necessity, Endric struck again and again, until he was certain the creature was not moving.
He sat back, leaning against the wall of the cave. He didn't know how long he was there when he heard another soft growl.
This time, he recognized the sound. There was no mistaking that it was a laca. They were pack animals. The one he had killed the night before had been the first of the pack, perhaps coming to investigate either their home or a new place to use as a den, and now the others were coming. How many more would attempt entry into the cave?
He wasn't sure that it mattered. He had to prevent them from reaching him.
As the creature snuck through the cavern, Endric clubbed it, much like he had clubbed the others. He was met with a satisfying whimper of pain. When this one stopped moving, he sat back, the wooden club resting on his knees, waiting.
More howls came from outside of the mouth of the cave. Endric began to wonder how large of a pack waited outside. At least this time, unlike the other time he’d encountered a pack of laca when he’d been near death, lying on the plains outside Vasha, he had some way of fighting back. This time, he was not caught completely unprepared. Only, he didn't know how many he would need to fight off.
There would be no rest tonight.
Endric would remain awake as long as needed. In the morning—if he survived—he might have enough fur to completely cover himself.
Maybe the gods hadn’t completely abandoned him here.
13
Endric now had enough furs to keep him completely covered. He'd cut all of the laca fur free, separating a total of five hides from the creatures. He had even used the bones to form needles and had effectively created a pair of tight-fitting shoes as well as a cloak and pants. It was enough that he might be able to survive out in the cold. The hides carried with them the stench of the creatures, but the fur was soft, and the leather was supple.
It had been three days in the cave, three days since he had been released by the Antrilii to wander. In that time, he hadn't eaten anything. He still hadn't drunk anything. He was growing dehydrated. Endric had to move to find a source of water, or he wouldn't survive any longer.
The sky was overcast, a change from the bright sunshine that he had experienced the last few days. There was a hint of rain in the air as well. With that, Endric considered remaining in the cave to stay covered, but doing so would only delay what he needed to do. It was time for him to return to the south and abandon his attempt to learn more from the Antrilii.
The air was cool, but Endric didn't feel it as the same cold as when he first ventured out. The furs were warm enough to keep him comfortable, at least for now. How much longer would that last?
Endric started up the mountainside. His mind was tired and almost heavy from his restless nights. He felt the growing discomfort from his rumbling stomach—he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eat raw laca—and his mouth was dry, his lips already starting to crack. Findings a source of water had to be the first thing he did. Once he did that, then he could focus on filling his stomach.
He carried with him the woven grass wrap, as well as the wooden club that had saved him and allowed him to kill the lacas. The grass could be used for kindling if he could start a fire. The club would have to do as a weapon until he found something better.
Endric climbed, moving slowly. His feet no longer scraped along the stone. With the laca fur, he didn't have the same grip that he had otherwise, but it was worth the sacrifice. He made his way steadily, careful not to move too quickly, not wanting to exhaust himself before he found another safe place to stop for the night.
It was midday when he came upon a stream. Endric fell upon it and thirstily scooped water to his mouth. The water was cold, almost painfully so, and he drank it until he no longer felt his stomach grumbling. Endric paused, letting the water settle, wishing he had a waterskin to carry more with him. He had to hope that he could come across another stream, and if he couldn't, he would simply have to keep going until he reached snow he could melt.
Endric continued onward, strength gradually returning, his mind clearing somewhat. As he went, he started to question. All he had was time, and with that, all his mind did was race, rolling through curious thoughts. Had his father known what he would encounter? Had his father sent him, intentionally planning for him to be cast aside?
Endric shook that thought away. Dendril had welcomed him back into the Denraen. There had been no plan for him to disappear like this. At this point, his father needed him, especially now that he had lost Andril and Listain.
No, his father didn't know, and that meant that he hadn't expected this much resistance. Perhaps his father didn't know that the Antrilii were divided.
Maybe that should trouble him. Shouldn't his father, as leader of the Denraen, have known what was taking place with the Antrilii? The Denraen didn't patrol this far north. They didn't have any sort of influence, which was reason enough to question why his father wouldn’t have known.
Endric understood that his father avoided the north, but maybe that had been a mistake. They needed to understand what had unsettled the Antrilii and why they no longer worked together as they once had.
He found a small cave late in the day. He considered continuing on, but doing so would leave him potentially exposed for the night. Near the mouth of the cave, he saw a few small shrub bushes, and he gathered a few branches, enough that he could get a fire going if he could manage. He’d made the mistake of not cutting off hunks of laca meat, which left him with nothing to eat. He was given a reprieve as he entered the cave and found a nest of mice. Endric clubbed them, knowing they wouldn't taste very good, but there was something more palatable about eating the mice than the laca.
It took many tries, and many swears under his breath, but he managed to get a fire going. He roasted the five mice that he’d killed and
had a quiet meal. At that moment, he thought he might be able to survive his way through the mountains.
Endric awoke to the sound of howling.
It came outside his cave. This one had a larger opening than the previous one, and he didn't like the odds of being able to defend it well if creatures managed to crawl inside. With the other cave, the laca had to come one by one. They were small creatures, but the entrance to the cave was small, limiting how many would have been able to make it inside.
This time, Endric had been able to come in on his hands and knees, enough that two or three animals could enter at once. If three laca came at him, Endric didn't like his odds in his weakened state. If something larger — such as one of the wolves that he suspected prowled these mountains — he doubted very much that he would be able to survive.
As he startled awake, he listened. The howling sounded distant, not near the mouth of the cave as he had first feared.
There was a note to it that was familiar, one that…
Could it be a merahl’s howl?
Endric scrambled forward, reaching the cave entrance. He stood there, listening into the night. The moon was a half sliver and didn't provide much light. What light it did provide came through the thick bank of clouds overhead.
The howl came again, bouncing off the rocks, and this time, Endric could tell that it seemed to come from up the mountainside.
Yes. It was definitely off the mountain rather than back the way he had come.
If he found merahl, did that mean he would find Antrilii?
If he came across hunters, what would they think about him? Would they recognize that he had been sent to serve a penance? He doubted they would recognize him as Antrilii, but what would Nahrsin think of him appearing dressed in makeshift laca fur, his body filthy, the stink of the dead laca hanging on him?
Soldier Sworn (The Teralin Sword Book 3) Page 9