A Traveler's Fate (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 3)

by BC Powell

  “Does anyone here keep track of the ratio between Darknesses and morrows?” I ask.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I just want to know how long a Krymzyn pregnancy lasts in Earth time,” I answer.

  “On average, Darkness falls once every morrow and a half,” she says.

  “Thanks.”

  It takes me a few seconds to work out that a pregnancy in Krymzyn lasts about three and a half months. Maybe the pure energy of sap has something to do with the shorter length, or maybe it’s due to the biological differences between people in Krymzyn and on Earth. After our daughter is born, she’ll spend another three and a half months with us before going to the Keepers.

  Sash rolls on her side with her back to me, reaches a hand behind her, and clenches one of my hands in hers. After pulling my arm over her body, she presses my hand to her stomach.

  “All you should care about is what’s truly best for her,” she says. “Not what you think is best.”

  “I will,” I mutter. “Peace.”

  From my single word, the light from the Swirls dims until dark surrounds us. As minutes turn into hours, I know from Sash’s breathing that, like me, she’s still awake. But neither of us says anything. I finally close my eyes, finding a little comfort in the fact that I have seven months to figure something out.

  Chapter 5

  “You have sap!” the Murkovin hisses. “More than you need.”

  “Where did you hear that?” the woman asks, scrutinizing the creature standing forty feet in front of her.

  “Word travels the Barrens,” he answers.

  The threat in the creature’s stance is obvious to the woman. The muscles in his bulky arms are taut and his knees slightly bent. At least four inches taller than the woman, he must weigh twice as much. His stringy hair is tied behind his head, and his weapon is gripped in both hands. Like many of the spears wielded by their kind, his was carved from a sturdy tree branch and sharpened with a coarse stone. He’s primed for a fight, the woman knows, ravenous desires gnawing at his mind.

  “If you join us, you’ll never thirst again,” the woman tells him.

  “Give us what you have!” he demands. “I’ll spare your life and that of the child inside you.”

  He said, “us,” the woman thinks to herself. There’s more than one.

  After removing a metal flask from a rope tied around her waist, the woman tosses it to the creature’s feet. “Have some sap,” she says evenly. “You won’t be so shortsighted after your thirst has been satisfied.”

  “You should control your tongue!” the beast growls. “This is your final warning.”

  The woman hears almost silent footsteps creeping down the hill behind her. She doesn’t need to look to know exactly where the creature is. But the woman bows to no one in the Barrens, even those too consumed by craving for rational thought.

  Her eyes hastily scour the terrain in front of her while her ears stay tuned to her rear. She’ll have to flee if there’s more than two, she decides. Even though she’s certain she could kill three or four, the risk to her unborn child would be too great. As the faint footsteps behind her grow closer, she concludes there’s only two.

  “You’ll be safe, little one,” she whispers.

  Digging her feet in the gravelly dirt, the woman storms forward. After only three steps, she jolts to a stop. The Murkovin in front of her springs in her direction, but he’s slow and clumsy as he charges across the rocky ground. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, the woman slips both of her hands to the end of her spear.

  From behind her, the crunch of feet on gravel is only a few feet away. Swinging her spear low to the ground, the woman twists to her rear. The steel smashes into the ankles of the beast, sweeping the creature’s feet out from underneath it. A loud female grunt gasps from the body when the Murkovin’s back pounds to the ground.

  With the end of her spear still in the grasp of both hands, the woman catapults her arms over her head. The female Murkovin on the ground frantically tries to roll out of the way. The shaft slams to the creature’s forehead, leaving her stunned on the ground.

  As the first Murkovin nears the woman, she snaps her face to him. The brute lunges the tip of his weapon at the woman’s head. Throwing one hand up in front of her, she catches the shaft in her grip. The woman yanks the beast’s spear by her side and pulls the Murkovin towards her. As he pitches forward, she jams her spear straight into his gut.

  The man releases his weapon and tries to smack his fists against the sides of the woman’s head. She ducks the blow, feeling the gust from his hands on the back of her neck. Careful to never put her stomach at risk, she hammers her forearm to the Murkovin’s chest. Churning her legs, the woman drives him backwards.

  Blood pours from the wound in the Murkovin’s stomach, but his strength doesn’t wane. He finally batters one fist to the woman’s face. Ignoring the sting on her cheek, she spins away and yanks her spear out of his belly.

  The Murkovin dives after her. As he tries to clench his arms around her thighs, she twirls out of his grasp. Flailing forward, the brute falls flat on his chest. The woman rivets her weapon into the back of his head.

  Ripping her spear out of the man’s skull, the woman leaps to where the female Murkovin still lies dazed on her back. The moment the woman’s feet touch the ground, she plunges her weapon down at the creature. Glaring straight at the female Murkovin’s eyes, the woman suddenly halts her downward jab. The tip barely pierces her forehead before coming to a stop.

  Her eyes didn’t look at me as I brought death upon her. Filled with worry, they looked up the hill at our side.

  “I beg of you,” the female Murkovin on the ground pleads. “For the sake of my child.”

  Keeping the point of her spear pressed to the Murkovin’s head, the woman glances up the hill. Near the top stands a small girl, barely as tall as the woman’s waist. Her frail body is draped in worn, shabby clothes, and unkempt hair hangs around her face. As the woman returns her eyes to the creature at her feet, her thoughts slip to the past.

  The woman’s Mür, the name a Murkovin child calls the man who provides the seed for birth, had been killed only morrows before the woman was born. But the female who gave birth to her, her Ovì, had done everything she could to protect her child. She’d not only provided sap for her, but had also taught her the skills to take it from trees. Her Ovì had shown her how to sharpen her teeth with rocks so they’d better rip through the bark of a limb. And her Ovì had trained her to fight with a spear, made certain she knew how to protect herself, how to commit everything inside her to the defense of her own life.

  But while still young, having grown only as high as her Ovì’s chest, she had to watch as the woman who gave birth to her was slaughtered by two of their kind. Two treacherous creatures. Two cowards. Vile men who lacked the courage to take sap from a tree themselves. It was easier to stand idly by while others exhausted themselves in a battle with the limbs and then kill them for the sap in their blood.

  On that hateful morrow, Darkness fell. Violent clouds roiled over their heads while rainfall spattered on the dirt around them. Her Ovì fought through savage branches to rip a small limb from a trunk. When she returned to where the girl waited safely out of the tree’s reach, the two knelt over the branch. Her Ovì’s lips didn’t touch the bark until she was sure that her child had her fill.

  Two men were in hiding nearby, watching as the two females drank. Once the precious liquid flowed through their veins, the beasts attacked.

  Her Ovì was still kneeling over the limb when, out of nowhere, a spear split open the back of her neck. When the girl spun to the sound, her eyes widened with terror. A hand slammed to her face, knocking her to the wet dirt. As she tried to scurry away, a muscular brute grabbed her by the hair. He lifted her off the ground and held her face in front of his.

  “We’ll deal with you later!” he snarled.

  He smacked his fist against her jaw and dropped her to the gro
und. As she struggled to maintain consciousness, the two creatures knelt over her Ovì with their backs to the girl. They had no clue of the flourishing power inside her slender limbs, or the intense will of her mind.

  Dizziness from the blow caused the dark clouds overhead to spin in her eyes, but the girl managed to lift her head from the ground. Through blurry vision, she watched the two hideous creatures tear open the veins of her Ovì’s neck. Their repulsive mouths leeched to her Ovì’s skin. Fighting the pain, she forced herself to stand. Tears for her Ovì rolled over the fresh bruise on her cheek.

  The brutal winds of Darkness continued to shriek through the hills. In the mud in front of the girl, pellets of rain splashed on steel. Her Ovì’s spear, a weapon stolen long ago during a raid on Travelers, was still on the ground behind the two men. As soon as her hands clenched the shaft, the strength of vengeance shot through her limbs.

  While the beasts slurped her Ovì’s blood, she crept towards the creatures and cocked the spear over her shoulder. With all the power her young body could muster, she spiked the weapon straight into one of the Murkovin’s skulls. When she drove his head to the ground, the other brute jerked his face to her.

  Before he could make another move, she kicked a bare foot to his throat. Gurgling sounds spewed from his mouth as he clutched his neck. She tore the spear out of the dead body at her feet and screamed her wrath. Powering forward, she rammed the point straight into one of the second beast’s eyes.

  After his head hit the ground, over and over, she pummeled his face with the tip of the spear. The crackling of bone ricocheted from the ground each time the weapon found its mark. Only when his entire skull had been shattered, an unrecognizable muddle of flesh, bone, and blood, did the girl’s rage subside.

  She dropped the spear, turned to the corpse of her Ovì, and fell on top of her body. The girl’s chest heaved with sorrow while the pain of a loss that could never be replaced twisted her insides. Mixed with the falling rain, her tears dripped to her Ovì’s face.

  Can I now inflict that same fate on another child? the woman silently asks herself.

  She examines the female Murkovin’s eyes. The creature’s plea was not for her own life. It was for that of her child. The woman decides that these two lives may be worth sparing.

  “If I let you live,” the woman says, “you and your child owe your lives to me. You can stay with me and have all the sap you need.”

  “Our loyalty will be to you,” the female Murkovin whimpers.

  “Make no mistake. If you ever betray me, I’ll kill your child in front of your eyes and then end your life as well. But if you prove that I can trust you, no harm will ever come to either of you.”

  The female Murkovin looks at her child and then returns her eyes to the woman. “We’re at your service. We’ll earn your trust.”

  “You bear no grudge that I killed that man?”

  “He was . . .” The female Murkovin pauses. “He was not the kind of man whose death you mourn.”

  The female Murkovin’s words confirm what the woman had already guessed from the actions of the man. Like many of the men in the Barrens, he was despicable. He probably drank his fill of sap before allowing a single drop to go down the throats of his woman and child. When physical desires overcame him, he took what he wanted from the woman. If she ever voiced her displeasure or tried to leave, he beat her until her tongue was silenced, and then beat the child to further destroy their will.

  The only reason the creature at her feet would stay with the man was out off fear. Fear that survival would be more difficult without him than it was with him. Fear that an already dreadful existence could become even worse. And fear that he might find her if she left him and end her pitiful life.

  There were good men in the Barrens, loyal men who cared for the women they spent their lives with and the children they created together. Her Mür had been one of those, so her Ovì had told her.

  And many Murkovin women needed no man, creatures with the strength and will of mind to survive on their own. Like her Ovì before her, the woman was of that ilk. There was no doubt that her life had become easier after she’d met the former Watcher of the Delta, but she’d never needed him.

  “I’ll teach you and your child to defend yourselves,” the woman says. “You’ll meet others you can trust.”

  “Is it true that our kind our gathering?” the female Murkovin asks.

  “It’s true,” the woman answers.

  “And there’s an endless supply of sap?”

  “Nothing is endless,” the woman says. “But with me, you’ll have more than you need.”

  After pulling her spear away from the creature’s head, the woman reaches a hand down. She pulls the female Murkovin to her feet and then turns to the hill. The girl still stands in the same spot as before with her eyes focused on the dirt at her feet, her hands folded in front of her, and her bottom lip clenched between her teeth.

  “Come down here, child,” the woman calls to her.

  As the girl timidly walks down the slope, she stumbles on the loose stones. The female Murkovin dashes up the hill to her child’s side. With the girl’s arm in the gentle grasp of one hand, she helps her child make her way down the hill to the woman.

  I made the right decision to spare their lives, the woman thinks. She’s protective of her child. She’s loyal—exactly what I need.

  When the two stop in front of her, the woman kneels in front of the girl.

  “You’re safe now, child,” the woman says. “As long as you’re with me, no harm will come to you.”

  The girl doesn’t reply, but the woman sees trust in her eyes. The woman rises from the ground.

  “I have a large cavern,” the woman says to the girl’s Ovì. “You can both stay with me.”

  “Thank you for your mercy,” the female Murkovin replies.

  “We’ll soon be moving to a different part of the Barrens,” the woman tells her. “My unborn child’s Mür will be here in a few morrows to help us move. You’ll have comforts you’ve never known.”

  “How can I repay your kindness?”

  “After I give birth, you’ll help me care for my child. I have much work ahead of me to gather our kind.”

  “A fair arrangement,” the female Murkovin says, bowing to the woman. “I serve you now.”

  Yes, you do, the woman says in her mind. In more ways than you know.

  Chapter 6

  As soon as we wake up the next morrow, Sash schedules a meeting with a man named Falk, the tallest Hunter in Krymzyn. Since I have the early part of the morrow off, I ask her if I can tag along. Although she doesn’t stop me from joining her, she seems mildly irritated by my request.

  We could easily travel to Falk’s hunting region in a matter of seconds, but Sash tells me she wants to walk the five miles. As we stroll across the meadows and rolling hills, she doesn’t seem interested in conversation. I decide to break the silence when we’re about halfway there.

  “Can we finish our talk from before we went to sleep?” I ask.

  “There’s nothing left to talk about,” she answers without looking at me.

  “So that’s it? I don’t get a say in how my daughter is raised?”

  “You’re in Krymzyn, Chase,” she says evenly. “It is the way it is.”

  “But everything about me being here represents change in some way,” I argue.

  “As I’ve said several times,” she replies, finally turning her face to me, “the only thing that matters is what’s best for her. You need to accept that.”

  Returning her attention to the landscape in front of us, Sash increases her pace. In her mind, this discussion appears to be over. Encased in uncomfortable silence, we walk the remainder of the way to Falk’s hunting region.

  Falk must be one of the tallest people in Krymzyn, which also means one of the oldest. At about six foot nine, he dwarfs both Sash and me. If I had to estimate his age, I’d say he’s in his late seventies or early eighties based
solely on his height. But his athletic build, smoothly rounded facial features, and wavy hair all give him the appearance of a man in his mid-fifties at the oldest.

  Falk is utterly dumbfounded when Sash informs him that she was called for the Ritual of Balance. Based on what Sash told me in the past, it must be the first time a Hunter has ever been chosen. As far as I know, Ovin was the only Hunter to ever parent a child, but that wasn’t from partaking in the Ritual. Her child, who resulted in the birth of the Murkovin, was referred to as “unsanctioned” in the story of The Beginning.

  During the conversation between Sash and Falk, I notice that Sash never mentions who the man called to the Ritual of Balance with her was, and Falk doesn’t ask. Since gossip doesn’t exist in Krymzyn, my conclusion is that no one would ever ask or tell. As I think more about it, if the woman enters the Cavern of Grace first and never turns around, neither the man nor the woman would have any idea who the other person is. It seems to be another part of the anonymity of parenthood in this world.

  Their brief discussion concludes with Falk telling Sash that he’ll have the other Hunters fill a few extra stakes with sap each Darkness. They both agree that it should be enough to make up for Sash not being able to contribute while she’s pregnant. Sash and I say our goodbyes to Falk, exchange momentary glances, and then leave in different directions.

  Over the next couple of morrows, the silence that began between Sash and me on the walk to see Falk is always present. Knowing that Sash doesn’t want to discuss how our daughter should be raised, I consider going to see Eval. She’s been able to provide me with guidance in the past, but I ultimately decide against talking with her. My conclusion is that she’ll just put a philosophical spin on the situation that’s probably not much different than what Sash said to me after the Ritual.

  More than ever, I miss my family on Earth. They’re the ones I could always turn to for advice in a difficult situation like this one. With Sash and Eval ruled out, I don’t have anyone else to talk to about my daughter. Tela is probably the person I’ve grown closest to on a friendly level in this world, but the subject is way out of her range of experience. And since the topic is closed with Sash, I have no choice but to internalize my feelings.