Tokus Numas

by D. W. Rigsby

  “Here, let me help you,” Petro said.

  Sha gave him a dirty look, “I don’t need your help.”

  Petro pondered what to say. “You’re acting like a Sus scrofa,” he said with a smile, hoping the jab would put Sha at ease, as guys do at times. Petro heard Kad laugh from over by the tent, hauling their things into it.

  Sha scoffed. “Why don’t you take your pathetic self away from me and go help someone who needs it?”

  He saw in Sha’s eyes contempt, how they locked on him like he was about to attack. Petro burned inside. Sha had nearly been the reason they didn’t pass their test; they wouldn’t be here if Petro hadn’t gone into Sha’s pack and taken the mike.

  Sha shifted slightly at an angle and held a spoon in his hand. His knuckles were white where he gripped it hard.

  Petro was done trying tonight; he stooped down on his haunches and put his hands up next to the flames, taking in their warmth. “You should watch what you say, Sha.”

  Sha threw the spoon at Petro’s head, and it hit him square on the bridge of his nose. “Ouch!” Petro exclaimed and rubbed his nose. He jumped at Sha and tackled him. Petro was on top of Sha. He caught him on the chin, and then suddenly he was yanked into the air and thrown over the fire pit. Petro could see the tripod, the steaming water, and the flickering flames as he soared through the air. He hit the ground with a thud, rolled to a stop, and got to his feet with some effort. He could see the back of Vetus Sepher.

  “You two need to steer clear of each other,” Vetus Sepher snarled. “Guard duty, double shift. Understand?”

  Petro nodded, and Sha did the same. Jon, Nalum, Kad, and Bran were wide-eyed as they went back to their duties. Vetus Sepher swept the area with an imposing glare. Tonight the brothers would need to try to remember their dreams and to be ready for the coming hunt in the morning.

  Live life full of promise and hope, and you will never be without disappointment.

  —From Book of Fools, by Foolish Thinkers of Spearca

  All the supplies from the wagon were locked up, and the food had been hoisted up into trees to keep it out of reach of bears, wolves, or wild piglets. Petro had made his rounds in the middle of the night, which consisted of walking the perimeter, checking the food stores, looking over the horses, and ensuring that no one had tampered with the armory chest. He had pulled first watch, which lasted for two hours instead of one, due to having had the fight with Sha. When he had finished his watch, he woke Jon for his turn.

  Petro was groggy and ready for some sleep, and as Jon was getting ready, Petro went to lie down. A sound came from the wagon, but he figured the creaking was from a passing breeze. When sleep did finally come, he woke, but he was not in his tent or bed—he was in a dream. He was out in the woods, deep where he’d never been, sitting on the cool forest floor. Petro had gotten up and walked around barefoot. He felt the soft, cool ground, the tiny prickling of broken branches, old bark, and roots. The soft silken touch of pine needles caressed the bottom of his soles and arches.

  Something drew him out into the forest. He searched for what it might be but could not find it. A crow cawed overhead; he looked up but it was nowhere to be seen. A rustle in the bushes came from behind him, and he turned to see a white stag; it was majestic, strong, and proud-looking. He gasped at the sight and felt excitement run through him. In one hand was a white bow, and in the other was a blue arrow. Bewildered and unsure, he took the arrow, notched it, and pulled the string back. His heart quickened, and his hands shook as he raised the bow and pointed the arrow at the white stag. He knew this was not entirely real, but it felt real, and the stag in front of him—what did it mean? His eyes widened when the stag raised its head and looked directly at him. Now there was a second heartbeat in his chest, strong and steady. It was the stag’s heart, and it was beating more slowly than his, as if it were not afraid of him or anything. Petro lowered the bow, still unsure of what he was supposed to do. Shoot it? He didn’t want to shoot it; he wanted to know what all this meant. The stag turned, and Petro watched as the powerful animal walked into the forest, disappearing from sight.

  The ground began to shake, and the trees started to sway back and forth. Petro looked around, and the forest vanished—it went dark, utterly black with no light, and then there was a faint light. His eyelids cracked opened to see Kad smiling. He felt his cot shake, and he turned over, pulling his sleeping bag up around his shoulders.

  “Time to get up,” Kad said, shaking his cot again.

  Petro didn’t move. He closed his eyes but then felt the cot shaking more vigorously. Then it tipped over, throwing him out onto the soft ground. He stirred, stretched, and felt how his muscles ached. His nose still hurt from last night, and he was still exhausted. While he lay there, he tried to remember his dreams. Vetus Sepher had said to pay attention to dreams this night. He did, and everything seemed out of place, like the world had shifted, and he was no longer in the world he knew but in a world that resembled the world he had been.

  “Time to get up.” Vetus Sepher’s voice entered the tent. Petro raised his head up and over the cot to see him exit.

  “Why are you dumping me out of my own cot?” Petro asked, scratching his head and then his chin and working his way around to rubbing his eyes.

  “Don’t look at me,” Kad said. His lips formed a thin line that turned up at the corners. He pointed toward the exit. “I was gonna push you over, but Vetus Sepher beat me to it.” He winked.

  Petro pushed himself up off the ground, righted his cot, and then threw his pillow at Kad’s face. It hit, and Kad turned away suddenly. “Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to,” Petro said as he reached for Kad’s arm and pulled him around.

  Kad turned around, and his face with covered with the matted fur of some animal. “Ahh!” Petro jumped back. Everyone in the tent laughed. “Scared the crap out of me, you don-go head,” Petro said, shaking his head. “Where’d you find that ol’ thing?”

  Kad’s voice was muffled, and it was hard to understand a word he was saying through the mask. He pulled it off and took a deep breath. “That’s better. I found it a few weeks ago, just a dead raccoon on the road. I skinned it, took my knife, and made three holes in it—see?” Kad put his two fingers and thumb through the openings for the eyes and mouth.

  Petro raised an eyebrow. “When the girls, you know, find out about your skills and this beautiful mask you’ve made, I mean…”

  “Ah, shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” Kad said, throwing the matted mask at Petro.

  Petro picked it up, using the tip of his finger, acting like it was somehow contaminated. He sniffed it. “Whew!” He held it far away from his body. “Did you find it rotting?” Almost everyone laughed except for Sha, who was off in his own world in the corner of the tent, hidden in the shadows. Kad snatched the mask from Petro’s hand and stuffed it into a bag. “You sure you want that in there? You know, with all your clothes?” Petro said with a huge grin.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get moving. Wouldn’t want to keep Vetus Sepher waiting, would we?” Kad said.

  Petro chuckled.

  “If we don’t get moving, Vetus Sepher just might come back in here and throw us all out the of tent,” Jon said. The tent erupted into laughter. Even Sha cracked a smile.

  “Yeah, like he did to Petro last night,” he said.

  Everyone went quiet and glared at Sha. “What?” he stammered and then looked at Petro. “Serves you right,” Sha said. The group looked at him with disbelief.

  Petro kept quiet. He didn’t want to make more trouble. He had been trying to amend things with Sha after the mountain, but it went awry, though fights did bring brothers together—like when Jon and Nalum went at each other over a piece of bread. Oh, there was plenty more sitting on the table right in front of the two. But Jon had to have that one piece after Nalum had put his hands on it, and when Jon wouldn’t let go, and Nalum bent forward and licked the bread, it was on. Fists were flying, food was flying, and bodies were flying.
The two were better friends now, even closer. Petro wished Sha could be like that and just let it go, seeing this as a settled matter between them.

  The group went back to the business of getting dressed, leaving Sha to say whatever he wanted to say.

  Kad pulled on his boots, stood, tucked in his shirt, and zipped his pants up.

  Vetus Sepher’s voice carried into the tent. “Stop mucking around.”

  The brothers straightened up, but not Sha. His face was red, but before he could open his mouth, Jon stepped over to him and placed his hand on Sha’s shoulder. “Come on, brother. We’ve got to go. We need to get outside. Remember, we are handing out the weapons.” Jon was subtle and could easily disarm any one of them, even Sha. Jon went out of the tent, and Sha followed him.

  Outside, lit torches staved off the darkness. It felt to Petro like they were somehow alone in this aura of light, and what lurked out there in the night was held at bay. He filed in behind Kad, waiting to receive his weapon. With Sha’s help, Jon brought out the weapons cache, opened the chest, and handed out shotguns, blue-steel ironshots, and bows. The ironshots were a sight, even the blue-steel ones, but when the year of choosing came, they would receive a nickel-plated ironshot with their chosen name engraved into it. Kad took his bow and a quiver of arrows, which was an honor as the bow was considered the chosen weapon of God. The arrows were razor tipped and meant only for flesh-and-blood targets, not fake ones like the keeldreer at the Numa induction ceremony. Jon also received a bow. Kad and Jon had been excellent hunters with the bow in their villages. Jon had started shooting small game at the age of ten, but when he turned twelve, he took his first deerling. It was from twenty-five meters, a terrific shot in an open cornfield. Kad started when he was twelve but learned the bow quickly. He was shooting targets in their backyard from well over thirty meters, and on his first hunt, he took down a deerling and several rabbits. The two boys had only hunted with bows since then, which was a choice weapon, both quiet and deadly. Jon and Kad would be paired up with one of the others who carried a shotgun, but they would be given the honor to shoot first.

  Vetus Sepher sat on a log, holding up his nickel-plated ironshot. It was a powerful pistol, a weapon designed centuries ago. It held six shots and was a double-action revolver. “You see this? This is not for hunting. What you hold in your hands now is. The ironshot is for protection, a means of last resort. It will do the job and kill a boar, a bear, a wolf, or lion, that is certain; but I stress that it should only be used in an emergency. The reason is that what you hold in your hands has greater range; you should know that. And this here,” he said, holding the ironshot up high, “is for close range. If a predator happens to run up on you, shoot it as many times as you can with this gun. All six shots.” He took a torch and held it out in front of him. “These boars you’re after are mean, aggressive, and are known to travel in packs, but the big boars, the males, almost always travel by themselves; and if they see you, they will charge. So be sure to get off the first shot right away. If that fails, like I said, fire your ironshot until it’s empty.”

  Petro imagined what it would be like to have a large wild boar barreling down on him and having to take his ironshot and put six rounds into it. Would it be enough? “Have you ever killed a boar with that gun?” he asked.

  Vetus Sepher looked at his nickel-plated weapon and sheathed it. “No, but I’ve killed many other things with it.”

  Each of them checked himself over: knife, weapon, compass, water, ammo, and map. Next they paired up: Jon and Bran, Nalum and Sha, Petro and Kad.

  “Remember to be back here before dusk. I don’t want any of you getting lost. If you do, just stay put until morning. We are here for three days. The first kill we will roast and have a feast,” Vetus Sepher said.

  The brothers cheered, hooted, and jumped up and down with excitement, though there was a twinge of nervousness in them. Adrenaline filled their blood, quickened their hearts, and set them into a near frenzy. Each of them knew that out there was a Sus scrofa with a large snout, curling tusks, and a thick, short, bristly coat with a prominent ridge of hair along its spine. Danger was afoot, but they welcomed it, hungered for it, and were even willing to provoke it. They were no longer the boys they had been when they had come to Tokus Numas. They were men—young—but men nonetheless. This was their rite of passage, to show they had what it took, to show each other they were meant for a purpose, and to show they were warriors.

  Petro gathered up a torch, lit it, and held it high in the air. They all looked at each other, eyes wide and energy high, and said the saying, “Be well, brother, be well, and don’t let this be our last farewell. We will come back together and will be with each other until the end of our days and our nights and until the final fight. Be well, my brother, be well.” They chanted and then headed out into the woods.

  Never underestimate an enemy if he is smaller, taller, shorter, fatter, bulkier, quicker, thicker, smarter, tougher, or weaker, but especially if he’s a thinker.

  —From Collections of Oddities, by anonymous contributors

  Petro and Kad headed east through a clearing of pines. Petro held the torch up in front of them as they went, seeing only a short distance. They took it slowly, being careful not to disturb the ground or the bushes around them. Each footstep was purposeful, landing softly so as not to be heard. Petro’s nerves were on edge, the adrenaline coming down. He took in long, deep breaths to keep calm and remain in control. He noticed Kad was doing something similar. Along the path, they saw nothing except large, prickly bushes, which they navigated around, and soft pine needles covering the ground. Kad stopped and motioned for Petro to come closer. “Do you see the trail?” he said in a whisper.

  Petro looked and shook his head.

  “Deerling, I think. Goes right through that brush over there.” Kad took the torch for a moment and used it to see the path. “You can make out the trail if you let your eyes see the distortion in the patterns of nature.”

  Petro narrowed his eyes, working to see the trail. He looked into the brush. It was hard to make out as there was little light, and his eyes only saw the wild overgrowth, winding vines, and bushes springing up in all directions. “I don’t see it.”

  Kad reached out to Petro’s arm and took hold of it. “Here, come next to me and look again. This time follow the line in front of me to the brush and then tell me what you see,” Kad said in a low voice.

  Petro stared at the ground, looked at the line, and followed Kad’s finger to where it pointed. Suddenly the trail materialized, like that of a secret passage that became visible after casting a magical spell. It was not easy to spot unless you were looking for it and were in the right position to see it, and Petro could. “OK. Yes, I see it.”

  Along the trail, they walked at a steady pace, pushing branches out of their way, melding into the forest like creatures of old. They were at one with the sleeping woods and the night air, and their focus was only on the hunt. Attuned to their surroundings like wolves, they stopped to smell the air for hints of any strong, musky odor. They listened for the snort, squeal, or grumbling of a boar and inspected the ground for signs of their recent presence. They were like ghosts, moving through the woods with only the light of the torch to show their way. Dawn filtered through the trees, giving off a faint gray light. Kad knocked the flames out, rolled the torch on the soft, wet ground, and smothered it with dirt until it was completely out. It smoldered, giving off light wisps of smoke that rolled out and were caught by a breeze, headed west. He tucked the torch into the side of his belt, careful not to burn himself.

  “You see anything?” Petro wondered if they were headed in the right direction. There were no signs yet that he could see, and it bothered him. He didn’t want to come back empty-handed on the first day out. Petro took in a deep breath and let it out.

  Kad had not responded. He was studying something on the ground, moving his head around slowly, looking out into the woods and then down to the ground.

&nb
sp; “What is it?” Petro said. His heart sped up.

  “Fresh tracks,” Kad said. He stooped down.

  Petro could see the markings now, a print in the ground, a very large print.

  “See here? These have sharp edges to them. Could be a few hours or only minutes old. This is what we’re looking for. By the signs of the trail, it looks like a male, I think, and he’s big,” Kad said. His voice was low, and he never looked up but kept his eyes on the tracks.

  Petro moved in closer and touched the edges of the print. “The edges are sharp. They must be fresh, newly formed, as you said. It takes time for tracks to fade, but the older the tracks, the duller the edges. Wind and rain can cause them to look old, but there hasn’t been any strong wind or rain this morning or last night. You can tell by how deep the impression is and how fresh it looks; even if it erodes some, you can get a sense of its age. We need to pick up the pace; we might be close, or the boar might be several kilometers away. But he’s taking his time, looking for food, so I don’t think he’s too far.”

  Kad moved out sharply, picking his legs up high, stepping over thick, low-lying brush, and making sure he made as little noise as possible.

  The boar was near; Petro could feel it. Sweat formed on his brows, his breathing was short, and his belly grumbled. No food this morning—better to hunt on an empty stomach.

  Mosquitos hovered around their faces. They shooed them away, but the little pests came back. Petro spotted dog fennel and patted Kad on the shoulder. He pointed to the green bush, handed his shotgun to Kad, reached over, and slowly tore off a twig. It smelled pungent, and the scent grew stronger when Petro ground the leaves between his hands and rubbed the wet leaves over his face, his hands, and the back of his neck. Kad handed the shotgun back to Petro and did the same. It helped; the mosquitos were still nearby but were not biting. The forest grew thick. There was little room to move, and the bushes and shrubs were slowing their progress. It stretched on for hundreds of meters, and Petro thought they might have lost the boar’s tracks. He scratched his chin, looked down, and couldn’t see any signs, but he followed Kad anyway. Kad seemed to know where he was going, and if he didn’t, there was no noticeable doubt. The forest began to open back up, and they came to a clearing. Petro moved to the left to get a better view. Not far from them, large clumps of dirt and mud were turned up. Small shrubs had been rooted out and their bottoms eaten. The damage covered much of the forest floor.