by M. M. Perry
The Cartan howled in pain and anger, reached down, and pulled a sharp fragment from his foot. His eyes seared the air around him with their heat. Cass’ demeanor changed instantly. She was no longer passively watching. The concern that she had thus far managed to push back came rushing forward. Nat saw her body go rigid. She was preparing for a fight. Nat didn’t know much about Cartans, but he could tell Cass was aware something crucial had changed about the confrontation. He took his cue from Cass and readied himself, knowing he too needed to be mentally prepared.
“Gunnarr,” Cass said, a warning tone in her voice.
Gunnarr nodded without looking at her, indicating he too had sensed the change in the Cartan. Droog charged, ignoring the pain in his foot, roaring the whole way. Gunnarr braced for the impact, but the Cartan was just too large. Droog slammed into Gunnarr, sending the Braldashad flying backward into a tree. The hit wrenched his shoulder, dislocating it. He cried out in pain as he fell to his knees.
For Nat, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Every sound and movement was intensified. He watched as Droog scooped up a large stone in his right hand and began to raise it as if he intended to use it to smash in Gunnarr’s head. But as his arm began to move upward, the distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed rang out. The sound of the finely crafted metal singing as it cut through the air was oddly deafening, as if it were the only sound in the forest just at that moment. Nat could see that he was not the only one to hear it. Droog’s face turned toward Cass, even as he continued to raise the rock.
For all the furious and fiery heat in Droog’s eyes, as he met Cass’ glacially cold gaze, something happened. It was clear to everyone that Droog’s stone would never reach its target; Cass’ raised sword promised that.
In the next moment, Gunnarr stood, roaring himself as he did so. The rock in Droog’s hand fell and he turned back toward Gunnarr. Gunnarr moved more quickly than Droog could react, but away from the Cartan. He slammed full speed against a large tree, popping his shoulder back into place with a howl of pain. Before Nat could even fully register what had just happened, Gunnarr had turned back to Droog and charged. Droog ran at him, head down low. The meeting of the two bodies did not happen as Droog imagined it would. After a couple paces Gunnarr leapt straight up into the air, grabbing a low hanging tree branch as thick around as both his arms put together. Using his momentum, he let his legs swing forward and delivered a powerful kick to Droog’s chest. The Cartan, the wind knocked out of him, flew backwards, landing once again in a pile of bramble, the tiny sticks scratching him all over. He might have noticed the painful pricks, but he had been knocked out cold when his head slammed down onto the ground.
Cass sheathed her sword while Gunnarr slowly walked toward her, panting from exertion and pain.
“See I told you that you could…” she began but was stopped as Gunnarr wrapped his arms around her, lifted her from her feet, and spun her in the air. When she landed she stumbled out of his embrace, knocked off balance by the spin. Gunnarr raised his fist into the sky and shouted.
“HA!”
Chapter 9
Droog awoke to sounds of quiet talking. He could see nothing and wondered if it was still night before he realized he had a damp, cool cloth covering his eyes. He pulled it off to see that it was not yet day, but it was close. His head ached and his body was covered in annoying, itchy scratches. His muscles felt as if he had spent the day hauling cargo up a mountain. He rubbed his eyes, remembering how he ended up that way.
“You feeling better this morning?” Cass asked, not bothering to avert her gaze from him.
Droog accepted this without comment. He had been bested by the woman’s mate. He had no claim of superiority over these people anymore. Alone, perhaps, but he knew they came as a pack, and the strongest among them could not be beaten.
“I am well enough,” he responded.
He received no apology and expected none. It had been a fair fight, though he did recall being blinded by his rage at one point, but the woman had kept him from acting on it. She had acted as nobly as any Cartan woman would have in that situation, and saved him from great shame. He knew he should thank her for this, as he would any of his kind. It was great dishonor to mortally harm another during a fight for dominance. Cass had protected him from that disgrace. But Droog found himself unable to do so. He still felt the disgrace of her speaking over him to the council.
Perhaps, when this is over, I’ll have the strength to be gracious, he thought.
He sat up and moved a little closer to the fire. Gunnarr handed him a piece of dried meat. He took it and nodded his thanks to the big man. All was well between them.
“No elves yet. I’m weirdly disappointed,” Nat joked.
“I can’t imagine any elves wanted to get close last night. Though we’d been pretty quiet up to the fight. I’m sure they…” as if on cue, Cass was interrupted by a nasally voice.
“Heeeyyyy, beautiful. Why don’t you head back to my place with me, and leave these lunkheads behind. I can show you a reeeeal good time.”
Though he was sure it hadn’t been there just a moment before, Nat saw a small creature, about a third the size of a normal man, sitting on the log beside Cass. The elf could have been mistaken for a child from behind. But looking at its face it was fairly obvious that it was not. He had a greasy brown scruff of curly hairs on his face that might generously be called a beard, like that of a young man trying to grow what little he could far before he should. The hair on his head was also brown and equally greasy, but unlike his curly facial hair, it was lank with a touch of stringiness added to make it that much less appealing. His skin had a slightly greenish pallor to it, as if all the color had been drained to make it pale white, then a dash of green leaf was added for a minty hue. His eyes were probably the only attractive feature, a bright jade color that twinkled in the firelight. His clothes were dirty and heavily worn through, made of some kind of rough cloth that was barely held together with thick, uneven stiches. His feet were dirty and bare.
Nat watched the elf, entranced by what the elf was doing with his hand. He periodically dipped it into a small leather pouch at his side, then jerked it out with a rapid flick of the wrist. The elf would then snap his fingertips together rapidly, creating a fine mist of something slightly pink looking.
“It’s how they do it,” Cass said, right before elbowing the small elf in the face. He fell off the log with an audible thud. “It’s how they knock out women to take advantage of them. Though he’s being particularly daring trying to do it while you are all present. They usually wait until they have a girl alone.”
“You know, you’re very pretty, despite your nose,” another squeaky voice said. Nat saw another elf, only slightly distinguishable from the first, leaning on a tree nearby, obviously trying to look nonchalant. He was also dipping his fingers into the pouch and creating the mist.
Cass picked up a rock and expertly lobbed it at the elf, smashing his face and knocking him backward.
“It’s because we are far from any villages or cities. The elves out here will do things the city elves wouldn’t dare. You’ve seen the teeth marks on the trees. City elves don’t bother eating the trees. They steal from us. But out here, it is all they have,” Droog said scowling at the elves as they continued to approach.
“Why don’t you ditch these zeroes and get with a hero,” another elf walked bold as can be through the camp, adopting a strut in his step that was certainly not meant to look as ludicrous as it did, sauntering past Cass. As he did, he dipped his hand into his pouch. Before he could try to mist her, Cass kicked the elf in its rear, sending it flying.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” it said as it flew out of sight.
“Wow,” Nat said. “They really are detestable.”
“And persistent. Or perhaps really stupid. They always keep trying to use their magic on me, even after its obvious it doesn’t work.”
“Is there no way to deter them?” Nat asked. “I mean, you�
�ve spoken of entering their pubs and asking them questions. How is that possible when they act like this all the time?”
“Well,” Cass said kicking another one before it could speak, “it kind of becomes background. You don’t really think about. And, of course, you can’t break up a tale to describe it every time it happened. Ruin the flow of the story. Unless of course, you add it in for a burst of lighthearted folly.”
An elf sidled up to Cass and slid its small hand up her thigh.
“Are you an orphanage, baby? Because I want to fill you up with kids.”
Cass grabbed his hand and crushed it in her own. The elf ran off, squealing in pain.
“This is going to be fun,” Cass said sarcastically.
Gunnarr stood up, drawing his sword as a trio of elves began to make their way into the circle of firelight. When they saw Gunnarr’s huge sword, they all turned around as naturally as they could muster, making it look as if walking away was their intention all along.
“Watch your packs,” Droog said. “Remember, they are thieves as well as lechers.”
Everyone repositioned their packs before them to keep a closer eye on them.
Nat could hear elves approaching from every direction. He felt something move behind him and turned to see an elf trying to sneak into his pocket. As he reached out to knock it away, something buzzed by his head and pierced the elf right between the eyes, pinning it to a tree behind it like a tiny, tragic doll dangling from a shelf. Nat heard what he could only imagine was a flurry of arrows passing by all around them, followed by elves screaming and running in all directions.
“I think we have company,” Cass said, standing.
They all remained attentive as they listened to the continuing sounds of elves fleeing, long after the arrows ceased to be fired. After the sound of the last screaming elf faded, a strong female voice called out from the woods.
“We are not enemies.”
Droog turned toward the sound of the voice and replied.
“We are friends.”
Cass recognized the call and response as a Cartan greeting. This particular one was used when meeting outside of cites.
A Cartan appeared from behind a tree. She was dressed very differently from Droog, who wore heavy, thick clothing fit for combat. Her clothes were made of a thinner fabric that draped loosely over her limbs, dyed the colors of the forest. She slung a long bow onto her back next to a quiver that was larger than any Nat had ever seen. The arrows it held looked unusual to Nat, with extremely slender and delicate looking shafts. The top of the quiver bristled with so many arrowheads, thanks to the arrow slim design, that Nat couldn’t even guess at the number. If not for the Cartan’s voice, which was quite a bit higher pitched than Droog’s, Nat would have never guessed this Cartan was female. As far as their physiques were concerned, Nat found them indistinguishable. She was, perhaps, less muscular, but from Nat’s observations back in Tendo, many of the Cartan were less muscular than Droog, whose bulk Nat attributed to his being a warrior.
She moved with grace and speed, slipping over the undergrowth as if it weren’t there, most unlike how Droog had moved through the forest, crashing through everything in his path. As she got closer, Nat saw that someone else was following her. This was not a Cartan, but human, and Nat recognized him right away once he came into the light.
“Korick!” Nat shouted.
“Hey, Nat! Gunnarr! It’s so great to see you guys again. I got your letter, obviously,” Korick said, grinning as he approached.
Korick and Nat embraced. When they parted Korick greeted Gunnarr with a more formal grasping of his hand. Cass looked the young man over, appraising him briefly before nodding a hello to him. Korick had short, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. His skin was darker, like a man who had been at sea for a long time, though Cass suspected the sun had nothing to do with its color. He looked to her like he came from the western region of Centria, where the people typically had darker skin and hair. It was close to where Suman had lived before the Golden City. She briefly wondered if he too was from Urgana before dismissing the notion as silly. Western Centria was a huge expanse with many villages and cities. It was unlikely Korick would come from the same village as Suman.
“I had to rush out to meet you, of course. As soon as I read who you were looking for, I knew I had to come. I’m so glad I caught you before you got to the seer,” he said, taking a seat near the fire.
“How’d you get here so fast?” Nat asked, taking a seat across from his friend.
“Lasha,” Korick said, gesturing to the female Cartan. “My friend. She’s a Guardian of the Lands, so she has more discretion as far as choosing her path. We were able to travel a straighter line than you. Then we found your trail. That was easy. You had a mess of elves tracking you that trailed at least two leagues behind you. We’ve been mopping them up as we got closer. And you,” Korick said looking at Cass, “I can only hope you are Cass?”
“I am.”
“You found her! I’m so glad for you, Gunnarr. And you too, Nat. Your quest was on my mind nearly as often as my rumbling belly. I have thought of you often, my friends. And Viola, is she well?”
“Yes, she is. She’s here, well not right here, for obvious reasons. Not that she didn’t want to come here. We had to talk her out of it. But she’s back on our ship, anchored off the coast of Tendo,” Nat said.
“Oh, well I should stop and say hello in person then, if we get the chance.”
“She’d like that,” Nat said. “She’d be even more annoyed she didn’t get to come if she learned we saw you and she didn’t get to even give you a hug.”
Korick laughed. It was a carefree sound and something Cass would not have expected from a young man who was on Ledina to avenge his sister’s fate. In her experience, seeking personal vengeance often soured a warrior, sometimes forever. Gunnarr was also surprised by Korick’s demeanor. He wondered what could have happened since he and Nat had parted ways with Korick that might have changed him so profoundly. Cass glanced at the Cartan Korick had named Lasha. Lasha was watching Korick intently. Cass thought Lasha might be looking at Korick with something more than admiration, but she couldn’t be sure. She found reading Cartan faces very difficult.
“Well I’ll be sure to make the time then!”
“I’m sorry to break in here,” Cass interrupted the reunion, “but you said you needed to find us once you knew where we were heading. Why the rush? Is there something we’re unaware of?”
Cass would have liked to let the men catch up, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that every moment slipping by was one less they had to stop the doom that was approaching.
Korick’s face suddenly drained of all mirth.
“Indeed,” he nodded. “No one has been able to get close to Foundation for many days now. All who’ve tried have been overwhelmed by the elves. Torn to pieces from what I’ve heard, though I’ve not seen it myself. But the news has spread very fast.”
Droog snarled at Korick’s words.
“How is it you know the name of the lands, human?”
Droog eyed Lasha suspiciously. He knew only too well that to become a guardian you had to be above reproach, a Cartan through and through. Wearing the garb of the guardians was a great honor he had been denied years ago, despite his skill, because he had been found to be too casual with outsiders. He could not understand how any guardian could be called a friend by a human, even a warrior human.
Lasha looked at Korick. Droog’s lip curled in an unconscious snarl as he caught the scent that wafted off Lasha as she looked at the human. It was more than friendship she sought, that was clear to Droog.
“I, uh…” Korick stammered.
“It’s okay, Korick,” Lasha said, then turned to face Droog, “I have taught him the words in his tongue so he may better navigate the woods. You must have been gone from Ledina for some time, or you would know of Korick. Even before now he has helped the Cartan with various troubles. Then this seer came. It was rumo
red the seer was once of the Clear Men. We needed someone who could go to Sanctum and investigate this rumor. I suggested that Korick could do this, and vouched for his abilities,” Lasha said. “He has been given status among us.”
Droog could not tell if Lasha was bluffing. It was considered a great wickedness to speak the names of their lands among outsiders. Even mentioning them when alone with Cartans was discouraged, so most Cartan only spoke of the lands by name when it was absolutely necessary. Droog sniffed in her direction, his nostrils flaring, seeking the scent of deception. He smelled something was strange, but couldn’t be certain it was deceit. Lasha was a warrior and was highly trained to remain calm even in dangerous situations, so she might be masking it. Droog decided he did not have the grounds for challenging her. As he gave up his challenge he slumped visibly, making himself shorter than Lasha, and looked away from her.
The groups attention turned back to Korick.
“Yes, well, it’s much more dangerous there than you might have been led to believe. The Cartan aren’t really great at explaining things to outsiders. Did they even warn you about what you were heading in to? I’m betting not, since anything that has to do with the glowing bodies, well, that’s particularly hard for them to talk about.”
“Glowing bodies?” Cass asked. “That’s new to me.”
“Yeah well, Lasha said it isn’t really a perfect translation. That’s the closest you can get to what they call their lands in their own language. Foundation is the one that’s been taken over by the seer and his rogue pack of elves. It’s the one furthest south.”
“And is he? One of the Clear Men I mean?” Cass asked.
“Best I can tell, yes. The Clear Men don’t really keep stringent records of who comes and goes from Sanctum. It’s supposed to be a place of respite from… ahem,” Korick cleared his throat a little embarrassed, “I mean, these are their words, not mine. A respite from the world of women.”