The Quiet God (Earth Exiles Book 4)

by Mark Harritt

  Rieci didn’t want to go hunting. He had a lot to do, but he felt like he had no choice. Wathim kept pestering him until Rieci finally gave in. Wathim kept dropping hints about going hunting. Wathim’s friends’ fathers were taking them out to hunt, and he let Rieci know that every chance he got. Rieci felt guilty because he was always out, away from home, training the new soldiers. When he was home, there was always something that had to be done, soldiers to deal with, training he had to take, or training he had to give.

  Wathim hadn’t made it easy on Rieci either. Melodrama was thick in the air every time he announced that another one of his friends had gone on his first hunting trip. The nine-year-old laid it on thick, pointing out that his friend’s father had taken his son out on his first hunting trip. Then his face would morph into such a sad expression; emoting such longing, all of it acting of course, not real in the least. Wathim’s lower lip would extend out dramatically, far enough that Rieci could have taken it between his thumb and forefinger and led him around the room. Wathim went so overboard with the theatrics that Rieci often chuckled or laughed out loud at his son’s antics, which garnered him disparaging looks from Elnai, his wife, and even sadder looks from his son.

  So, this time, when Wathim brought the subject up, Rieci relented. It was something that needed to be done. There were plenty of boys in the canyons that would never go hunting with their fathers, and many men that would never go hunting with their sons. Wathim had been overjoyed, boasting to his friends that Rieci was taking him hunting. During the week leading up to the hunt, the boy positively hummed with energy.

  It was tradition among the Contai that fathers take their sons on their first hunt. After the boys came back from the hunting trip, there was a celebration to welcome the boys into the tribe as hunters and warriors, even though they were too young to do either. The ritual was designed to let the boys know that they were going to have to be providers for their tribe. That first hunt was the beginning of their training, so that the boys learned how to do everything; track the animals, hunt and kill, gut and skin. They learned how to set up a hunting camp, how to make a fire, how to cook for themselves and the other hunters.

  In the morning, Rieci had woken early to make water, and found his son curled up close to him. Wathim had started the night in his own skins, but had tucked in close to Rieci as the night air grew colder. The air was brisk at this elevation, and the nights were still cold as winter started to turn to spring. Evidently, the night was too cold for a nine-year old boy. Rieci had to poke and prod him to get him up out of bed and out of the tent to help Joffi, an older boy who’d been brought out to keep an eye on the camp, and to train Wathim how to set up and take care of the camp.

  Joffi had been training Wathim to get the fire going first thing in the morning, to make hunter’s tea, a bitter brew made to wake the hunters up and get them moving, and to make breakfast for the hunters. Rieci had gotten out of the tent, gone to the tree line, and made water as he heard Joffi directing Wathim in the finer art of placing tinder and larger sticks to get the fire going. Rieci walked back over and knelt down next to the small fire, warming his hands. Wathim gave Rieci a shy smile as he listened and watched Joffi build the fire.

  Rieci looked at Wathim, “I’m going out soon. You know what to do, right?”

  Wathim nodded eagerly, “I’m going to stay here and help Joffi get the food ready.”

  Rieci smiled at his son, “Exactly. You’re going to have some hungry hunters coming back into camp, and they’re going to want some good, hot food to fill their bellies.”

  “And I for one, am going to need a lot of food to fill this belly!”

  Rieci looked around to see Doengar step out of his tent. Rieci eyed him critically, “I agree, that is a very large belly to fill.”

  Joffi laughed and Wathim giggled. Doengar’s eyes grew wide as he stepped toward the fire, “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me!” He leaned down and picked up Wathim and threw him up in the air. The childish giggles changed to laughter as Wathim flew up, and then back down into Doengar’s arms. Once more Rieci watched Wathim go up into the air, skinny legs and arms, all elbows and knees. Doengar caught the boy, and then acted like he was about to drop him, ending with him standing Wathim back on his feet.

  Doengar pointed back at the fire, “You better let Joffi learn you how to cook boy, otherwise . . .” Doengar closed one eye almost completely, and made a baleful face as he he leaned forward, “We may have to spit you over the fire!” He poked Wathim in the boy’s skinny ribs, eliciting more giggles.”

  Rieci smiled, “Oh, I don’t think we want to do that. Wathim doesn’t have enough meat on him to even feed Joffi, and Joffi weighs about half of what you do, Doengar.”

  Joffi took Wathim aside and watched him brew the bitter tea. Doengar stepped up to the fire, and held his hands out to get them warm. He looked over at Rieci, “Do you think we’ll find Geonti out here?”

  Geonti didn’t spend his time home in the canyons. Instead, whenever he came back, he would head out into the hills, wanting to spend time alone. Living in the canyons was hard on Geonti. Whenever he was in the canyons, the women and children reminded him of her, and what their lives could have been together. She had been taken from him right before they were going to get married. Rieci looked over at Wathim. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d do if Elnai or Wathim were taken from him.

  Rieci shrugged, “Some hurts go deep. I think it will be a while before he can put this one behind him. He’s out here. It’s up to him. If he wants to visit, he can smell our fire. He knows where we’re at.”

  Doengar rubbed his hands together, and then smiled as Wathim brought him a cup of warm tea, walking slow, trying not to spill any. Doengar made a face as he drank the tea, eliciting another laugh from Wathim, and a smile from Rieci.

  More of the men came out of their tents, made water, and came over to warm their hands next to the fire, waiting for their food. Joffi took charge, used to the business of cooking, and concentrated on feeding eight grown men. He was constantly sending Wathim off to fetch more wood, make more tea, or do one of a dozen errands that needed to be done before the men went out to find game.

  Rieci went back to the tent and grabbed his rifle and his atlatl. The other men were talking about using their rifles to hunt, but Rieci was a purist, and knew that the sound of the bullet would drive away other game. Still, Rieci wasn’t going to leave the rifle behind. He knew there were still dangerous animals in the mountains.

  It wasn’t as dangerous here as it was further south, but there were still monsters around that would kill him given the opportunity. There were solitary talgit, what the E-mur-E-cuns liked to call a bear. The murder birds had been spotted traveling in packs of twos and threes. There had even been sightings grasnig footprints in the area.

  He walked over to Wathim, and put his hand on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. He could feel the boy’s soft skin, see the freckles that lined it. Wathim stopped what he was doing, and went still as Rieci bent over to talk to him.

  “Wathim, you be good. You do everything that Joffi tells you to do. I’m going to go scout sign so that you can go out with me tomorrow, okay?”

  A big smile broke across Wathim’s face, “I promise, I’ll do everything he needs me to do.”

  Rieci patted his son on the shoulder, “I know you will, son. You’re a good boy.” He leaned forward and kissed Wathim on the top of the head, then swatted him on the butt to send him back into the fray of serving and picking up after the hunters.

  Rieci turned away from the camp and headed toward the mountains. Since he hadn’t been able to hunt the area, he’d asked a few of the other hunters where a good location might be. Doengar had pointed out this general area, and a few others had confirmed that they’d seen huachi here on previous hunting trips. So, while Wathim was busy in base camp for the past three days, Rieci had been out scouting. Wathim had the attention span of a fly flitting around, so Rieci was t
rying to make Wathim’s first hunt easier by scouting and tracking prey before he took the boy out. He wanted to make sure that Wathim brought something back on his first day out.

  Now, his breath misted in the cold air as he climbed in elevation toward the spot they’d told him about. There had been a few flurries in the area and snow had piled up on the sparse vegetation, drifting low against the trunks of the trees, deposited there by the wind. The heavy winter snow was gone, but there were still flurries in the area. The snow had been brutal here, sending hunters further south to find food. It was much further north than he’d ever been. Hells, it was further north than any of his tribe had ever been and much, much colder. And now, the sound of the wind slicing through the trees made it seem even colder than it was. He pulled his jacket tighter around him.

  He found the trail that Doengar told him about and followed it higher into the mountains. He found what he thought might be a good hide, and moved into it to watch for the huachi. These huachi weren’t like the ones down south. The other hunters said they were bigger, meaner. The huachi in the south would run a long way to avoid a confrontation. The males here would hunt you as you hunted them. They didn’t seem to have fear of humans. Rieci pulled out some pemmican, started chewing, and settled in hoping to see if any of them would come by.

  The hours slipped by. The long shadows of the morning retreated, and the sun rose steadily overhead. Rieci had been sitting in one place for a long time, too long, and he was getting cold. The huachi here weren’t cooperating, and Rieci was thinking about getting up to get his blood flowing. Since he hadn’t seen any of the huachi here, he contemplated moving higher up the trail. He might have a better chance further up in the mountains. Then he mentally chided himself for his lack of patience. Still, the thought was there, and he came close to moving to another hunting sight. He looked around one last time, moving his head slowly, hoping to catch sight of the elusive huachi.

  But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made his blood run cold. Had he decided to move a few minutes earlier when he first thought about it, there was a good chance that he would be dead now. He saw the distinct outline of the rifle before he saw the soldier. Then the soldier stood up, moved out of the shadow of the tree, and waved for others to follow him.

  Rieci leaned back against the hill, slouching lower, and looked down, tracking them obliquely from the side of his eye. He didn’t want to stare directly at them. He recognized them immediately, having seen the corpse of one on the deck of the shuttle. They were wearing a different type of camouflage, one that was designed for the vegetation and background colors in this area.

  Their direction of travel concerned Rieci. They were traveling from the direction of the hunting camp. It was a few kilometers away, but if they’d passed close to it, they would have smelled the remains of breakfast. Rieci felt his gut contort as the fear and worry hit him. He feared for Wathim’s safety. It took every ounce of concentration for Rieci to stay in place and not move. He hadn’t heard any shooting, which gave him some hope that his boy was still alive. Rieci wanted nothing more than to kill the soldiers below him, but he didn’t know how many others were out there. He didn’t want to react without thinking things through. It wouldn’t do him or Wathim any good if Rieci got himself killed. He had to make it back to Wathim, and get the boy to safety. He also needed to find and tell the others that there were enemy soldiers in the area.

  So, he sat there, seething with conflicting emotions, praying for the safety of his boy. While he did so, he watched the way they moved, their technique, something he’d begun to understand more now that he’d been trained by Mike and the others. He looked at their fields of fire, how they held their weapons, how attentive they were to their surroundings. He watched them with an appraising eye, like he did the recruits from Althus’ village. What he saw didn’t give him any comfort. These soldiers weren’t like the Turinzoni. Their professionalism stood out, indicated by the lack of sound and the care they took as they moved, watching the woods around them, studying the terrain, then slowly moving to their next location.

  The enemy soldiers walked slowly, quietly, slipping from the shadow of one tree to another with an economy of motion that made it hard for anybody to notice them. As he watched, he counted five enemy soldiers. He waited patiently as the team moved past and disappeared into the vegetation. Still, he waited, knowing that there was a danger in every decision he made. The team he watched seemed to be a scouting party. What he didn’t know was if they were operating on their own, or if they were the advanced scouts for a larger group of soldiers. He didn’t move, waiting to see if more soldiers would appear. It wouldn’t pay to be caught between two forces of enemy soldiers.

  As it was, Rieci was a very lucky man. Even as cold as he was, Rieci had been staring at the animal trail, trying to discern the movement that would indicate the prey he’d been hunting. Now Rieci understood why he hadn’t seen any animals over the past few days, and why the other hunters were complaining about a lack of sign. The soldiers had probably been in the area for a while, and had spooked them.

  With the soldiers gone, and danger no longer imminent, Rieci’s thoughts wandered back to his son, and the hunting party. He closed his eyes, and rage started to build as he thought about Wathim, possibly alone, afraid, and at the mercy of the enemy. A growl rose up in his chest. He shook as he thought about his little boy.

  He fought against the madness, knowing that it wouldn’t serve Wathim, or him, to fall into that pit. He took his concern for his son, folded it up and put it away. Wathim’s safety wasn’t the only concern he had. His boy wasn’t the only one in danger. Rieci didn’t know where these soldiers had come from, but he knew that they were looking for the rest of the Contai. He had to warn everybody.

  Resolute in his course of action, he waited until he was sure it was safe to move, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, then he got up, and headed back in the direction of camp. He had to find Wathim and get him to the safety of the canyons. Slowly, Rieci moved away from the tree he’d sat next to, and stood up. He listened, to see if anything had changed. There was nothing to indicate that the enemy soldiers were still around, so Rieci started walking back to camp. His movements were identical to the ones the soldiers had made earlier, with one exception. If the roles had been reversed, and they had been in a hide site, they never would have seen him move past.

  He moved as quickly as he could, torn between hurrying, and traveling slow enough that he wouldn’t give himself away to the enemy. He had to keep reminding himself that getting himself killed wouldn’t help Wathim. He cut across the enemy tracks a few times, just so that he’d get used to the signature of their boots, their boot prints, and the way they walked, the pattern of each individual’s steps, the gait that each of the soldiers used. Once Rieci had their unique patterns down, he knew that he’d always be able to find them.

  He knew something was wrong as he approached the camp. The birds were calling each other, which meant that there was no movement to disturb them. They didn’t quiet until Rieci got closer. Rieci circled the camp several times, just to make sure there wasn’t a surprise waiting for him. He found the footprints where the enemy soldiers moved toward the camp, then the location where they waited before they moved into the camp. Besides those of the Contai, the tracks of the five soldiers were the only tracks he found. There were no other soldiers around, at least this close to the camp.

  He walked into camp, the silence deafening to him. He wished, that, just one more time, he could hear his son’s laughter. He knew, before he found the bodies, that wasn’t going to happen, ever again. He found the two boys together. Joffi had tried to protect Wathim, his body lying over the smaller boy. Conflicting emotions ran through Rieci; anger, horror, despair. He could only imagine Wathim’s last moments, wondering if his father was going to come back to save him.

  Rieci slowly moved Joffi off of Wathim, and laid the boy’s body straight, his hands crossed over his stomach. The
smell made Rieci want to retch. The wounds on the two boys were horrific. Burned flesh had exploded from their chests. Gore weeped from their bodies into the ground.

  Rieci straightened Joffi’s hair, and closed the boy’s eyes, wiping the dirt off of his face, “Thank you, little warrior, for defending my son. I will sing your soul to the heavens, praising your bravery for standing against the alien soldiers.”

  He reached down, and picked up the body of his son, and walked to the shade of the trees. Rieci sat next to a large, old tree, and he arranged Wathim on his lap. The breeze slowly stirred the stray hairs that dangled across Wathim’s face. Rieci ran his hands slowly through his son’s hair, feeling the soft, fine, silky hair for the last time. Rieci looked at the perfect features of his son’s face, the perfect nose, the kind mouth that smiled the crooked smile. Wathim’s skin was soft, and perfect. He leaned forward and kissed Wathim on the forehead, his tear falling from his eye to land on the boy’s cheek. That was how Doengar found him, crying over the loss of his little boy.

  Doengar limped close to Rieci. Rieci looked up at him, “What about the others?”

  Doengar shook his head, “I couldn’t find any alive. Doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, but I’ve got three corpses that indicate otherwise.”

  Rieci nodded, “You’ve got to get back to camp, and warn them that the soldiers are here.”

  Doengar paused, and looked down at Wathim in Rieci’s arms, “What are you going to do? Aren’t you coming back with me?”

  Rieci looked up at Doengar. Doengar flinched from the madness in Rieci’s eyes. Rieci shook his head, “No, I’m not going back. I’m going to kill them all.”

  Doengar eased back, looked over at Joffi, and then back at Wathim, “What, the men that did this?”

  The madness in Rieci’s eyes punctuated his next words, “That’s a start.”

  ----------------------------------------------------