Thornbear (Book 1)

by Michael G. Manning

  “You don’t have hooks, netting, or a bow.”

  Gram had already thought about that. “I don’t have time to fish or hunt properly anyway.”

  “But you have a plan?” asked Grace. “Right?”

  He bent down and picked up a solid stone. It was half the size of his fist. Placing it in his pouch he kept walking. “I have a pretty good arm, and there are lots of small animals. I’ll have to eat whatever I’m lucky enough to kill or find. Snake, lizard, squirrel, something will turn up.”

  She shuddered, “I don’t have any experience with eating, but none of that sounds very appetizing.”

  Wait till she realizes that since we have no way to make a fire, I’ll have to eat it raw. He tried to ignore the queasiness that that thought invoked. Another day without real food and maybe I won’t care.

  The shallow wash that they were following split. Ahead the water continued on, heading west where it would eventually emerge into Shepherd’s Rest, to the north a dry streambed meandered away in the direction that led to the Northern Wastes. Gram stopped.

  “Did you spot some sign?”

  “No, but this is where they could change course. I’ll have to work my way around the area until I can determine for certain which way they went,” he explained.

  He focused on the northern route first, since he feared they planned to go in that direction, and his suspicion was soon proved correct. It was less than a quarter of an hour before he found the signs of a camp, as well as a few hoof marks. Grace watched him as he turned over several rocks.

  “They were here?”

  “Maybe,” said Gram. “This camp is more than a day old. See the blackening on the rocks? They made a small fire and scattered it afterward. They turned these over to hide the fire marks. At a guess I would say this was where they stopped when they were coming in. Some of them waited here to meet those that went to attack the house after they were done.”

  “You found the camp easily enough,” observed Grace. “Wouldn’t they have been more careful?”

  “It isn’t as easy as it sounds, and they didn’t really have to bother. They didn’t think anyone would be tracking them immediately afterward. It should have been at least two or three days before anyone got here, if not longer. I only found it because of the hoof prints in the sand over there. One or two rains and I doubt I would have seen anything.

  “I can’t be sure how many were here. Definitely they had several pack animals, donkeys maybe. I killed about nine at the house, but there were probably more waiting here with the animals.”

  They began following the dry wash, letting it take them north. Gram kept his eyes open for more signs, as well as for small animals. He hadn’t eaten solid food for almost a full day now and his stomach was beginning to hurt.

  Unfortunately he saw neither, and as the afternoon sun waned he began to feel shaky. A light rain began to fall.

  “Shit.”

  “This is going to destroy the trail, isn’t it?” she said.

  “It will obscure some signs,” he admitted. “But we are less than a day behind them I hope, so we will probably be alright. Rain is a bigger problem for scent tracking, if you’re using dogs. Mostly I’m concerned about getting wet.”

  Grace didn’t like the sound of that. She had been watching Gram all day and he was far from his best. His gait was unsteady and he looked pale. The rain might not be too bad while the sun held out, but once night fell the air would turn cold.

  He kept moving rather than stop. There wasn’t much in the way of potential shelter anyway. Making a lean-to from the meager deadwood in the area would have taken considerable time and provided little relief from the rain. Taking advantage of some of the rocky overhangs would have been better, but he already worried that they were losing ground.

  “Gram,” said Grace quietly. He didn’t answer. “Gram!” she hissed, “There’s something ahead.”

  He paused, looking at her. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s not in view yet. It’s past those rocks,” she pointed, indicating several large boulders a few hundred yards ahead.

  “How can you see past the rocks?”

  “I don’t see the same way you do,” she explained, patting her eye buttons. “These are just buttons. I see the same way wizards do, magesight.”

  “That’s handy to know,” said Gram.

  “My range isn’t nearly as good as theirs, and this is at my limit…” She stopped, a growing feeling of fear sweeping over her. Whatever she was sensing was powerful, and it was coming close. “This isn’t good. I think it sees us. It can probably see farther than I can. We have to run!”

  “That isn’t likely to happen,” observed Gram. “Can we hide?”

  “No, we stand out like torches in the dark. This thing sees aythar, like I do,” she finished with a low groan. “It’s too late.”

  The bear collapsed, falling prone onto the bare ground. “Grace, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Gram was beginning to feel something, as though the air itself was growing heavy. It weighed on him, a pressure on his mind.

  A figure appeared in the distance, a man, perhaps, but then it unfurled golden wings and took to the air. It was flying toward him. Gram’s body began to shake as he fought to stand. It was as if a giant hand rested on his shoulders, pushing him toward the ground.

  The world grew dim as the creature descended on his location. It wasn’t dark, and his eyes still worked but there was an invisible brilliance around him, an unseen light that blinded his mind, making it difficult to think. “What is this?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “What have we here?” said a voice of heartbreaking beauty. It was a male voice, matched by a muscular body of unearthly grace. “A human, traveling with a spell-beast. How unusual.”

  Gram tried to keep his eyes on the man, but his gaze went to the ground instead. He’s too beautiful. It was too painful to look at him. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and a feeling of unbearable sadness threatened to overwhelm him.

  His life was meaningless. He could see that now, faced with the celestial being before him, his own humanity seemed dirty and squalid. Gram’s knees buckled and he fell before what could only be one of the gods.

  A light burned through his mind, examining every inch of his soul while he cringed inwardly. He knew he was unworthy.

  “Gram Thornbear,” mused the deity, letting the words roll gently from his lips. “How fascinating. Such a pathetic creature you are, nothing like your father at all.”

  Gram’s thoughts crystallized then, at the mention of his father. He was filled with questions. The light sorted through his thoughts.

  “Dorian is dead. Such a shame, I would have loved to kill him. Your father was a far more substantial being than you, manling. I should weep for your family to see how far the Thornbears have devolved. Dorian was one of the few men that could stand before me without quivering in fear.”

  Celior. He remembered now. Celior was the only one of the shining gods to escape, the only one that hadn’t been destroyed. Gram wanted to cry to think of the destruction of such a transcendent being.

  “You love me, don’t you boy? Just like your mother. She felt my touch once, and shivered in ecstasy. Your father hated me for that, but despite his best efforts, she never forgot me. I gave her more pleasure with a single kiss than he could give her in his entire life.”

  The god’s words struck a chord within him, but he couldn’t give voice to it. Despite the blinding light in his mind he still felt the scorn. How could anyone deny him?

  “Such a lovely sister you have,” commented Celior. “When this is over perhaps I will make her one of my acolytes. I will show her the love her father could never give her.”

  A spark lit in Gram’s mind then, a rage that would not be ignored, despite the gut wrenching fear that controlled him. “No.”

  “How interesting. The pup shows his teeth. Is it the thought of your sister that instills such defiance in you?�
� Celior leaned down, stroking Gram’s chin with one finger. The contact sent waves of pleasure through him, threatening to blot every thought from his mind.

  “I wouldn’t hurt her, manling. She would welcome me.”

  Gram’s rage burned through the empty pleasure. “No.”

  “It is your sister. The thought of my hand on her inspires—jealousy? What a sad incestuous creature you are. You should be happy for her. What of your mother? We could be a happy family together. Mother, son, daughter, and of course I would be your father. Imagine the joy.”

  With the words, Celior sent images into Gram’s mind, of his mother and sister, naked. Obscene visions that made him want to vomit in horror. The god touched his chin again, obliterating the revulsion with overwhelming passion.

  “I could even share them with you, manling. Is that what you’d like? Or perhaps you’d prefer to experience a father’s love more directly?” The visions changed.

  “You—are—not—my—father,” Gram managed, choking out the words.

  “Such a disobedient child you are,” said Celior. “Very well, I will give you a gift out of respect for the dead lump of flesh you call your father. Those you seek are yet ahead of you, but weak and feeble as you are, you have no hope of catching them. If you do reach them they will kill you.”

  Is he going to release us? Gram didn’t dare to hope.

  “I am not here to stop you,” answered the god. “I am here to kill the wizard when he comes, rushing to save his lost child. To you I will grant freedom, and with it, the finest of torments—hope.”

  A sense of shame washed over Gram, though some part of him knew it came from the outside. I am not even worth killing.

  “Pray that your enemies slay you, child,” said the shining god, bestowing a serene smile on him. Its glow flowed over him like the sun. “For if you survive, I will make the visions I have shown you come to pass. I will have you cry to me in gratitude as you lick your family’s heart-blood from my heels.”

  Something warm and wet splashed onto his head and back, filling him with vitality and a sense of well-being. The stench of urine filled his nose.

  “Take this blessing and go, child,” laughed the shining god.

  The impulse to run rose within him, an overpowering urge. Leaping to his feet Gram snatched up the cowering bear and ran, following the dry gorge and bounding over whatever rocks or other obstacles barred his path. He ran with the grace of a deer and his heart pounded in his chest, ringing with energy.

  Inside he cried for shame.

  Chapter 33

  They traveled perhaps a mile before the desire to run faded, though neither of them spoke when he slowed.

  Gram’s face burned with humiliation. Nothing in his short life could have prepared him for such an encounter and he flinched inwardly whenever his mind showed him flashes of what Celior had described. He felt his gorge rise, but his body was too healthy to vomit.

  An hour passed before Grace finally spoke, “It wasn’t really urine.”

  The rain had stopped and his clothes seemed clean, but he remembered the smell. “I don’t think there’s any doubt about what it was.” The wound in his side was gone, and his muscles no longer ached and trembled, but his pride was wounded beyond repair.

  “That thing, it can’t pee any more than I can eat. It healed you, that’s all. He wanted you to feel humiliated.”

  “What makes you such an expert?”

  Grace’s voice was rich with anguish, “Because we’re the same. He called me a spell-beast, but in reality that’s all Celior is as well. We don’t eat, and neither do we—excrete.”

  The simulated urination was the least of Gram’s problems, though. The god’s intrusion into his mind had left him feeling dirty, soiled. The illusions he had been forced to witness hadn’t been his own, but they had felt real. Celior had violated him more thoroughly than any rapist could hope to accomplish.

  And he did the same to my mother. Anger threatened to rob him of what little sanity he had left. No wonder she never spoke of it.

  His father hadn’t bowed, though. He knew that much. Dorian Thornbear hadn’t fallen to his knees in fearful obeisance. Dorian was one of the few men that could stand before me without quivering in fear.

  “I’m a coward,” muttered Gram.

  “Don’t give him what he wants,” said Grace. “That thing we met is just a twisted bully. He’s been around so long that the only thing left that gives him any pleasure is messing around in people’s heads.”

  “My father was able to face him.”

  “Dorian was a stoic! Celior couldn’t get inside his head, Gram. Just because you’re not like him in that regard, doesn’t make you any less brave. What you did back at the house took courage. You have two parents, and both of them faced that monster. Your mother wasn’t a stoic, but she didn’t let it stop her. She went through something similar, but afterward she picked herself up and kept going.”

  “I’m not as smart as Mother.”

  “Being a genius isn’t everything, Gram, and it certainly isn’t what got her through it. You owe a lot of who you are to her, things that perhaps you don’t see, but you aren’t her, and you aren’t Dorian. You…” she poked him with one paw, “… are Gram Thornbear. Your story starts here. That thing may have knocked you down, but getting up is your choice. A Thornbear gets back up.”

  He thought of his mother, sitting in her chair and sipping at her morning tea. Her quiet presence had been a constant in his life. She watched the world with eyes that saw things that even magesight couldn’t reveal. Despite her calm demeanor, her keen perception and powerful confidence had always intimidated him. What would she have done if she had been with them a few minutes ago? What had she done after her encounter with the filth and depravity that was Celior?

  He knew the answer.

  Gram picked Grace back up, squeezing her gently. “Thanks Grace.”

  “Don’t thank me. You’re the one that decided we had to go after Irene,” said the bear. “And I still think you’re a terrible failure at certain things.”

  He looked at her curiously, “What things?”

  “You’re the worst comedic sidekick I’ve ever had.”

  That brought a smile to his lips, “You aren’t doing so good as the tragic hero either.”

  “Don’t let my small size fool you. In the end, I will get the girl,” she answered.

  ***

  They traveled on, and the going was much easier now. Celior’s ‘blessing’, while disgusting, had been real. Gram’s body felt strong and sure. The aching of his muscles was gone, and also the shakiness he had felt. He was still hungry, but it wasn’t the same painful emptiness now, it felt more as if he had merely skipped breakfast.

  The cut in his side was gone, along with every other bruise or abrasion he had gotten. We have a chance now, he thought to himself. While they’re traveling with pack animals and a prisoner, I’m alone and unencumbered. He could catch up to them, so long as he didn’t lose the trail.

  Food was still a concern, though. Gram walked quickly, using his newfound energy to keep up a brisk pace, but while his eyes caught the occasional sign of their enemy’s passage, he saw no animals. The stone he held in his hand went unused.

  Darkness fell, but he didn’t stop.

  “Aren’t you going to rest?” asked Grace.

  “Not until I get tired,” he told her. “Even if we make camp, we have no fire or blankets. Walking keeps me warm.”

  “You won’t be able to see in the dark.”

  The world had already become a monochrome scene of shadows and grey. The moon was up but it was hidden behind one of the mountains. His eyes had adjusted, but with only starlight he could barely see more than the ground immediately before him. “I can see enough to walk and your vision will keep us going in the right direction.”

  “How far does your special sight reach?” he asked her.

  “About two hundred yards,” she answered, “but I don’t kn
ow how to track.”

  “That won’t be a problem until we reach the rise I saw before the sun went down. Until then they don’t have any options, and if they’ve stopped to camp in the trees along the west side of this gully you will be able to see them, fire or no fire,” said Gram. The eastern side of the wash was steep and craggy, so there was no chance of anyone camping there. “We’ll keep going until it splits and then stop for the night.”

  They continued their trek, moving slowly as he picked his way in and around massive boulders that had long ago fallen from the rocky eastern side of the gully. The mountain that would eventually interrupt their path at the northern end had seemed only a few hours distant in the light of day, but in the dark it never seemed to get any closer.

  Sometime near midnight Grace poked his cheek, “There are two men ahead, at the limits of my sight,” she whispered.

  That was far enough away that being seen wasn’t a concern, but sounds traveled a long way in the rocky valley. His eyes strained against the darkness, but he could see nothing ahead of them but dim grey stone and dark shadows. It was probably a cold camp; if the men had built a fire it would have been easily visible. “Describe their position.”

  “They are tucked into a low place above a big overhang on the right hand side. I don’t think you would be able to see them even if the sun was up.”

  It sounded like a perfect position for an ambush. “What are they doing?”

  “Lying down, with their backs on the rock. They have their bedrolls beneath them. They might even be asleep. They aren’t moving but they have bows next to them.”

  “Let’s wait a while,” said Gram. “I want to make sure they’re asleep before we move.”

  “It’s a sorry ambush if they’re sleeping,” commented Grace.

  “People don’t travel at night. If you weren’t here I would have stopped a while back,” Gram told her. “The bows are useless in the dark too. They were probably left behind to kill or delay anyone following the others. The rock you described would be a good place to pick people off with a bow.”