by Heath Pfaff
This story takes place in a village near the Rakaash Mountains in the west of our land, a place nearly a year's journey across the ocean from here, and far across the land from even our nearest shores. It is this place from which the Hungering spring, and to my people, the place from which all evil is born.
Our people, the Tett, had always called them the cave fay. They were pale skinned creatures, with glowing blue eyes, who kept mostly to themselves, crawling through their intricate tunnel systems, and living a life separate from our own. We rarely saw them, and never interacted with them. They left us alone, and so we did them the same favor. It had been that way for as long as my people could remember, and it seemed it would remain that way forever. No one feared the cave fay, for their eyes were filled with peace, and their faces were empty and harmless. In fact, some of us believed that seeing one while on a long journey was a good omen.
We lived in a land of lush and fertile life where everything grew, and we wanted for nothing so long as we kept to our lore of the land. The Tett and the cave fay were the only peoples of our land, which we called Tett O Sut, or The Peoples Paradise. Our greatest fears were the summer storms, and our only enemies were those we made for ourselves. We trained in combat, but not because we warred, only because it was a sport to us, and it honed our skills at the hunt. The hunt and those skills involved with it were our most valued cultural traits.
As a rite of passage, our people would send a group of young men and women out into the wilds of the mountain lands to live on their own for the span of one moon's phase, or 45 days. We had done this for years, and no ill had ever befallen the youths. It was their chance to make their own way in the world, and to learn about the secrets of grown men and women. Many a bonding pair came back after that month. Such was the way of our carefree people, and such - we assumed - it would always remain.
The chieftain wished his only daughter a safe journey that year, eager for her to join the ranks of adults, excited at the possibility of having grandchildren to which he might impart his many years of wisdom. It was with a high heart he saw the band of fifty children off into the wilderness. They departed, packs on back, and spears in hand, and the village went back to its daily routine, certain in the safety of their precious offspring. Our world was not one that knew evil at that time.
You must understand; we raised our children to be huntsmen and woodsmen from the moment they were able to walk. By the age of fourteen or fifteen, not one of them was at risk in our lands, and a grouping of them was every bit as safe as if they were a group of adults. There should have been nothing to worry about, but as the month dwindled, and no youths returned- for usually one or two would come back early, with news of a marriage or a grand hunting story - my ancestors' worries began to grow. Still, they waited. For two more weeks they left the children to their own means, certain that they must have simply become distracted and decided to stay out longer, but a week after they were due back, fears were growing.
None of the children returned. The Chieftain made a decision then. He said unto his people, "We shall send our ten best hunters into the woods. They will find what is keeping the children," For they still believed the children to be alive and well, simply unable to return for some reason beyond their reckoning. "And bring them back to us." Our huntsmen left the village.
They were led by a man named Orthisius. Orthisius was the strongest man of the village, an unparalleled hunter and tracker, and a living legend in his time. He had felled a great boar, a monster larger than even your war sows, with naught but a knife and his brawn.
The entire village felt at ease knowing that it would be he who searched for the children, for if anyone could help them return safely, they knew it would be him. Indeed, Orthisius found the trail of the children almost immediately, and began the process of tracking. Even though the trail was old, his keen eyes and trained senses lead him from sign to sign effortlessly.
It took the better part of four days for the hunters from the village to trace the entire trail, but when they did, they came upon a horror they had never anticipated. High upon the mountains, deep within the land of rock and wood - lands sacred to the Tett - they came upon the clearing in which the children had chosen to make their camp. Little remained of the camp that had been built by the children. The rickety structures of branch and leaf were burned or trampled, and the supplies sent with the children were strewn about the clearing. The entire camp site was littered with piles of picked clean bones, not a one with a scrap of flesh remaining. There were stakes buried in the earth around a pit that had held a fire, and there were singed bones hanging from those stakes. The huntsmen, none of whom had children on the rite of passage that year, were still wrought with despair.
It took them a long time, but the huntsmen found fifty skulls, though there was no hope of righting the mess of other bones and debris from the camp. They did what they could, and dug a large, deep grave in which to lay all the children to rest.
As they did, they noticed that the bones showed signs of teeth marks and tool scratches. It was as though the children had been attacked by other Tett, felled and eaten. It was a ghastly thought, and one that did not seem to match the scene they'd found. Orthisius did not believe the children had been attacked by other Tett -- it simply was not any of our people's way.
"Such has never happened before, and these children were all adept fighters. Of the fifty, some would have escaped if they were attacked by some other tribe of Tett. The enemy must have come fast, and they must have been completely overwhelmed." He said to the others, but though his reasoning was sound, our people knew of no creature of the land that would do such a thing. We had lived in peace for generations, and the Tett would never turn on each other.
Defeated in spirit, Orthisius and the band of hunters began their trek back down the mountain to their village, knowing that they would have to deliver a terrible burden of bad news to the chieftain and their people. Not only were the village's children dead, whatever had killed them had escaped and was still wandering the mountains. This fact also made the hunters nervous, for they were far less a number than the fifty children. Even as skilled as they were, they were not so certain they could defeat an enemy that had killed fifty Tett trained warriors.
On the second day of their forced march back to camp, one of their scouts spotted something moving through the woods, and the entire party called a halt. Everyone sat tensely gripping their spears, fearing that at any moment whatever had devoured the children might find and devour them as well. Those moments waiting for the scout to make clear sight of what was moving through the woods were terrible, but finally he called back.
"It is only a cave fay. The way forward is clear." The relief was evident in his voice. The hunters moved on, now more confident in themselves, and feeling foolish after letting the cave fay frighten them so. They all knew those creatures were harmless. Indeed, the men boasted that their return journey was now blessed, though the news they brought was not.
Night descended, and the huntsmen made an uneasy camp, for they could not walk day and night, though all of them would have liked to. Walking at night could make a dangerous place of their normally friendly forest. A branch hidden in the darkness could turn an ankle, or gouge out an eye. Guards were posted and the camp rested uneasily.
Orthisius was awoken by someone shaking his arm in the night, and he jumped to his feet in an instant, reaching for his spear. When he saw it was only one of the men on watch, and not some monster from the dark, he breathed a sigh of relief. His relief, though, was short lived.
"There is something out there, in the dark. Lots of them. They have red eyes, and they're watching me." The man said in a hushed whisper. Orthisius's first impulse was to tell the man he had imagined it, but he remembered only too well the fate of the children in the mountains.
"Quietly rouse the others." He told the man on guard duty, and he brought himself up, swinging on his pack and preparing his spear. He walked to the edge of the c
amp and gazed out. The darkness gazed back at him, red eyes sparkling in the night. He had not wanted to believe the other hunter, but there they were. All around the camp red eyes burned, watching, hungry. Orthisius felt real fear for the first time in his life.
The creatures with the red eyes charged then, though the night watchman had not yet roused all of the people in the camp.
"They're cave fay!" One man yelled, but his voice turned into a terrible gurgle as his life was slashed out of him by vicious claws. They came in a horde - a tide of red, fiery eyes, charging at the small group of huntsmen. Those huntsmen, however, were the villages best and strongest, and they fought back, wielding their spears with trained proficiency. They would not be felled so easily as the children.
The cave fay, those peaceful underground dwelling creatures, had changed. Their eyes burned red and empty, and their demeanor had become terrible and violent. No one who saw them, eyes blazing red, would ever be able to think of them as peaceful, docile creatures again. Their teeth gnashed and tore at any bit of flesh within their range, and they came on and on, a deadly tide of blood lust.
The party of huntsmen was almost entirely destroyed, but Orthisius and one other man, Reamis, managed to escape. They ran into the night, heading for their home village, knowing that if they did not spread the warning, everyone would be killed. Word had to get out at any cost. The red eyes did not chase them through the woods, at least not that either of the men could detect, but they both ran as though death was pushing through the wilderness just behind them. Some would later call them cowards, but their actions would save many.
Orthisius was the faster runner, and, after nearly a full day of running, came upon his village just as dusk was deepening into night. He ran immediately for the chieftain's house, though all who saw him soon followed after, eagerly pressing for news of what had befallen the children. The chieftain, hearing all the commotion, was at his door before the tired hunter even arrived.
"Chieftain," Said Orthisius, "the cave fay have turned against us. They devoured our children, and then attacked our hunting party!"
The Chieftain couldn't believe what he'd heard. "You're lying!" He accused Orthisius. "The cave fay are peaceful creatures, and a terrible fate such as that could never befall our precious children." So terrible was Orthisius's news that the chieftain refused to accept it as reality. In his mind, he replayed himself sending his treasured daughter off into the woods with a smile on his face.
"You have been a good provider for us all these years, Orthisius, but I will not tolerate such falsities from you any further. Do not use your tongue to spread such terrible lies ever again or I will have it cut out." The chieftain warned, his indignation and fear convincing him of the truth of his own words.
"Sir, I have indeed been a good provider, but on my life I am telling the truth. I have seen this with my own eyes. When Reamis arrives, he will confirm what I have said." Orthisius insisted.
The chieftain was furious. "Orthisius is to be strung to a poll at the entrance to the village. We will wait until the others return from the hunt. If they do not confirm his story, he will be publicly punished for his hateful lies."
Orthisius stood aghast, his chest heaving as he struggled to bring in air after running for so long. His entire body ached, and he could do nothing to resist as the men of the village grabbed him forcefully by the arms, and dragged him off to be strung up outside of the village. He fought, and he screamed the truth, but it won him only angry beatings, and an eventual gag. The chieftain's word was law, and if he said that Orthisius was lying, the others believed it. They were angry with Orthisius for saying such terrible things about their children, and eager for the hunters to return and tell them some form of truth they could better come to terms with.
It was another twelve hours before Reamis finally came running from the woods, panting heavily, his face flushed with exertion. As he came within sight of the town, his eyes immediately caught the figure of Orthisius slumped in unconsciousness, hanging strung up by his arms from the poll generally reserved for festive flags on occasions of celebration. He slowed his run and approached cautiously. The villagers gathered around him as he came nearer, and finally he found himself face to face with the village chieftain. The chieftain's eyes were wild and frightening.
"Reamis, Orthisius has come to this village spouting lies, telling us that the hunting party and our children were murdered and eaten by the cave fay. Tell us that this is not so." The chieftain demanded.
Reamis was not a stupid man. He had run with the hunters for a long time, and could read the situation before him as well as he could read any forest sign. His eyes gazed at the strung up form of Orthisius only once before he looked back at the chieftain, meeting the man's crazed eyes. His mind churned, and finally he opened his mouth to speak.
"The children found a well spring with water that bubbles, chilled and fresh, and tastes of sweet fruit. They did not wish to leave it behind, and when we found them the hunters chose to stay there as well." He said, knowing that his betrayal doomed Orthisius to death, but knowing just as well that telling the truth would change naught, but add his own head to the pile.
The chieftain laughed heartily, a great smile spreading across his face, along with a look of purest relief. That he would believe such an outlandish story, thought Reamis, was proof enough of his madness. Such springs did, in fact, exist, but a party of fifty would never find such a spring and not send word. They generally bubbled only for a short time before trickling out entirely.
"You see my people," The chieftain called out to the other villagers. "Orthisius lied to us all. He wished to keep the spring to himself. He is sick and his mind is twisted by his greed. Let this stand as a lesson to you all."
By this time, Orthisius had awakened, and he watched the proceedings before him with a great sense of betrayal. His eyes meat those or Reamis, but Reamis would not hold his gaze. Orthisius was a brave hunter, and a great man, but he did not understand Reamis' position. He saw only his friend's betrayal. Orthisius hung his head, shamed and doomed.
"Tonight, at the hour of deepest night, we shall have a cleansing fire, and send this sick man back into the sky where he might be purified by the rain!" The chieftain screamed in exultation, and those of the village cheered and rejoiced. Reamis did not join in their cheer. Instead, he bode his time and waited for night fall.
Darkness fell over Tett O Sut, and the people of Orthisius's village began to gather for the celebration to be held later in the night. They carried dried wood from all about the village and prepared for a massive bonfire. The peaceful village of the mountain valley, in its fear, had become blood thirsty and terrible. Reamis, though, did not take part in the festivities. When they came to him, wishing him to join in the celebration, he told them that his travels had exhausted him, and that he would need to sleep to recover. The villagers were not happy to hear this, but they let Reamis go, too caught up in the excitement of the coming evening spectacle.
Reamis was sickened by it all, and still haunted by the glow of red eyes that had come for the hunting party in the night. He was indeed tired, but he knew there would be no sleep for him. He gathered his meager possessions, two of his finest spears, and a pack with some travel supplies inside of it, and he made his way out of his hut and into the village. The night was deep black, full of shadows, teaming with darkness. For Reamis, a skilled huntsmen, moving without being seen was not difficult. He made his way through the village until he came to the pole upon which Orthisius still hung.
The villagers had left him unguarded and alone, hanging painfully from his arms. It had never occurred to them that someone might free the man they were sacrificing to their fear. Reamis drew his hunting knife, tossed the blade at the poll, so that it sunk in, point first, at about the height which Orthisius's hands were bound above his head. The vibrating blade alerted Orthisius.
"Who is there? Heed my warning! They come with eyes of fire!" He called out, and Reamis cursed bene
ath his breath. He should have anticipated the bound man's reaction.
"Quiet, Orthisius, it is Reamis. I've come to free you, but if you keep making so much noise, the village will be down upon us before I can cut the ropes that bind you." Reamis called quietly up the pole, even as he began his ascent of the tall wooden beam.
"Reamis?" Orthisius's voice called back down at the other man. He was surprised. Orthisius had believed himself betrayed.
"Yes, now prepare yourself to drop. When I cut these ropes, there will be nothing holding you up." Reamis answered. There were four ropes to cut. Orthisius was tied at each wrist separately, and then banded twice around his arms so that they could not move at all away from the center pole. The rope was tied so tightly that Reamis could tell it had broken Orthisius's skin in multiple places. Reamis began working at the ropes.
"My friend, I thank you, but what is the point? We can save no one. They will not listen. It is better that I die here, amongst my people." Orthisius lamented quietly.
"Our village did not listen, but others will, Orthisius. You are a legend in these parts, and those not in fear of grief will hear your words, and they will take up arms. You who have always striven to be a great man; to do great things for the Tett. This is your time." Reamis freed the last of Orthisius bonds and the huntsmen of legend slipped free and collapsed to the ground. His feet gave way at the impact and his arms held no better, having been constricted. They were numb from long hours of being bound. He came slowly back to his feet.