Rexrider (First World's End Book 1)

by Mark Angel

  Dergon hastily draped Tamik with a guardian’s sash—covering his Secondary Rexrider’s sash in the process—and moved Tamik’s sword from his right hip to his left. A halting applause broke out.

  “It shouldn’t have been done this way,” Dergon admitted, “but you will just have to wait until another Junior is Passed before you get to see the whole ritual. And by the way,” Dergon lowered his voice slightly, “You are no longer bound by the vow of celibacy you took when you became a Junior Guardian, but I strongly caution against promiscuity," then he spoke in a confidential tone right into Tamik's ear. "It is not just frowned upon, but downright overwhelming to have more than one lover at a time. I speak from experience her, my friend.”

  Master Tsi’galivo's voice again filled the hall. “We should offer our newest Senior a sample of the feast prepared partly in his honor—if any remains, so that he might take some with him to break his fast while in the wilderness.”

  A basket filled with baked eggs, spiced bean curd and plenty of fresh greens and fruit was brought and handed to him by an older Master Guardian. Tamik took it gracefully from her. Sighing, he said to no one in particular, “I have anticipated this moment for so long and now it’s over. I don’t know what to say.”

  Tsi’galivo laughed heartily, “‘Good-bye’ would suit. And as for most of us . . . we already enjoyed the celebratory meal before dawn light. We can only suggest that you go with Spirit, and may the hunt bring you and your compatriots much prosperity.”

  The mood in the room, including Tamik’s, began to lighten following the Grandmaster’s lead.

  “Well, what are you waiting for, Brother?” Dergon roared heartily. “Go with Spirit!”

  Tamik waved to the assembly and briskly walked out into the canyon compound. Dergon followed.

  They hurried through the winding paths that led toward the gate. “Why did Grandmaster Tsi’galivo salute me as a peer when he greeted me in the Inner Chamber?” Tamik asked.

  “We are all masters, Brother Tamik. It just takes us awhile to remember the inherent knowledge.” Dergon gripped Tamik firmly on the shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head. You are still only a Senior Guardian.”

  Tamik nodded. In the moments since the revelation, he had been feeling steadily more energized. It seemed to him a quick recovery, given his disorientation moments before in the Inner Chamber. Perhaps it was the Power.

  “Thank you for everything,” Tamik said. Before passing out to the paddock he turned back to his new friend and added, “I hope to see you again.”

  “I will be staying in Stonehaven to train. We have been assigned as partners, so we will undoubtedly see much of one another upon your return.”

  Dergon took Tamik by his shoulders and they pressed noses, exchanging breath in parting.

  Tamik said, “I am truly sorry we won’t have a chance to test our skills against one another in the upcoming tournament.”

  Dergon chuckled. “I’ve already tested your skills, and while I feel quite confident that you would not have lasted long against me had I been seriously trying to best you, please don’t let that stop you from trying me again during the next tournament season.”

  “I’ll relish the chance to prove you wrong,” Tamik said with a set jaw and resolute features. “I’ll be there even if I have to spend all my cubage to buy a whole sloggerbeast just to feed the rexes.” His face then shifted and he winked at Dergon, saluted him as a peer, and exited the gate.

  Tamik pulled his Secondary Rexrider sash out from under his Senior Guardian sash and began to jog toward the pride, which was still milling around the middle of the inner paddock.

  When he had awakened this turn he had felt neither more nor less than a Junior Guardian: perhaps a little older, scarcely more confident, and imperceptibly more skilled and knowledgeable in the guardians’ arts. Now he felt something more, a substantial transformation that surprised him.

  Still, Tamik did not look forward to the hunt.

  A mural is comprised of many modest strokes.

  A carving is comprised of many minute cuts.

  A life is comprised of many discrete decisions.

  --Tsi’galivo

  4. Preparations

  Stonehaven’s inner paddock after dawn, 09/01/1643—

  Tamik jogged through the paddock toward the Stonehaven Pride, where the other rexriders were trying, with limited success, to move their beasts toward the perimeter wall.

  He weaved around several towering stone obelisks, rocky testaments to the elements that had, over time, carved out the valley from the coastal plains above. A tinge of guilt stirred him to step up his pace after leaving Gar-rex unattended for so long. His father had been counting on him to harness the beast before he could cause any trouble, but Gar seemed to be causing plenty of trouble right now. Again he was taunting Rayak-rex, facing off with him, and snapping his jaws at the pride’s Prime Bull. As Tamik neared the rexes, he witnessed his father’s mount whip his tail in an attempt to strike the older beast. His behavior was provocative but not an all out challenge. Not yet.

  As the air thickened with the dust being kicked up around them, Almar, Rayak’s rider called to Tamik. “Get that brute under control!” he said, scalding the younger rexrider with a harsh glare. Almar appeared especially ungainly as he waved and stomped around in his efforts to get his own beast to move toward the perimeter wall where the rexes’ stalls were located. Gar’s challenges thwarted that intention as he confronted Rayak, his thundering bellows echoing among the cliff walls. With the Prime Bull so occupied, the entire pride was stalled.

  Tamik whistled through his fingers—a low-pitched arpeggio followed with a longer tone that was Gar’s unique call. The predator turned his huge head to look down at the young rexrider, but paid him no further mind, returning his attention to the Prime Bull, advancing threateningly toward him.

  The pate of each beast was just beginning to purple, indicating their increasing states of arousal, crown quills quivering but not yet elevated. Gar continued to snap at the older bull. Escalation seemed imminent. There were thunderous roars; more dry earth kicked up.

  Tamik moved hesitantly toward the two bulls, trying to ignore the dust that hung in the air. He continued to call loudly for Gar, wincing at the churning in his stomach. In addition to the ruckus, the beasts exchanged deep growls. Tamik was not sure how much of his gastric discomfort was due to the beasts’ low frequency vibrations and how much was due to the apprehension coursing through him.

  Melok came into view on another trail carrying saddle bags full of supplies. He quickly caught up to his son and exchanged the saddle bags for the hackamore and girth straps. Almar was having no more success harnessing Rayak than Tamik was with Gar, and neither was willing to get between the two agitated bulls. Melok, however, emboldened by having once been Rayak’s saddler, marched right between the two, shouting curses at each and whipping his gear at their flaring nostrils. These definitive actions, he hoped, would keep the incident from becoming a full challenge for Primacy.

  Taken off-guard by the rexrider’s brazen interruption, the bulls backed away from each other. Melok jumped up to grab Gar’s massive lower jaw with gloved hands, pulling his rex’s chin down to shoulder level, placing his face right in front of the beast’s eyes. He shouted more commands. Finally, Gar began to focus on him.

  “Easy boy,” he then said, looking into Gar’s big, yellow eyes. “I’ve got you now.”

  Rayak sniffed aggressively at Melok’s back. Gar began to growl protectively.

  While maintaining his firm grip on the lower teeth protruding from Gar’s drooling jaw, Melok side-kicked the Prime Bull soundly on the snout, an impact that would have knocked him off balance if he were not still holding onto Gar’s fangs. Rayak snorted, and then turned back toward Almar, who immediately took hold of his own mount’s lower jaw and applied his hackamore and reins.

  With Rayak now in Almar’s hands, Melok could manage his own bull more effectively. “Belly down,
Gar!” he commanded. The animal reluctantly obeyed, lowering his body until his stomach was flat on the ground, his relatively small front claws touching the dirt and his tail snaking out behind him, twitching. Melok pushed Gar’s head down until his chin almost touched the dirt and scolded the rex whenever his attention strayed. At first, Gar strained against the handling, but finally surrendered to his rider.

  Melok slipped Gar’s headgear over his giant maw filled with serrated teeth and large enough to engulf half a man. While smoothing his rex’s crown feathers, he secured the throat latch and tossed the reins back over Gar’s neck.

  Rayak-rex was still near enough to occasionally distract the younger bull, but Melok kept his mount fully under control.

  “Stay down!” he commanded, keeping one hand firmly on the animal as he moved alongside. Then he tossed the girth strap over Gar’s haunches.

  “Back you go. Easy now . . .” Melok had returned to Gar’s head and now lifted him by his nostrils until he began to sit up. The rider then slapped Gar repeatedly on the chest, until the rex assumed the tripod position, sitting back on his muscular tail and hind legs.

  Tamik shadowed his father. “He wouldn’t listen to me,” the Secondary Rexrider said.

  “You have to make him listen to you,” Melok replied with little compassion. “He’ll never respect you unless you put him in his place.”

  Easy for you to say, Tamik thought, but thought better than to utter the words aloud.

  Melok stepped under Gar-rex to secure the girth strap. The stubborn mount expanded his chest to keep his rider from fastening the strap too tightly, so Melok heaved his shoulder into the beast’s gut, right below the breastbone, causing him to exhale forcefully with what might have been interpreted as a whimper of submission. Melok then secured the strap properly.

  “Gar. Belly down again!” Melok ordered. Gar obeyed this time without protest. Finally, the domestic rex was ready to accept a rider, his body flat against the ground and chin in the dirt.

  “Tamik! Mount up!” Melok signaled his son with a combination of hand gestures and words.

  Tamik faced the rex's tail, and hooked his left foot into a loop in the girthstrap on Gar's left, and then he swung his right leg over the broad back to face forward. Finally, he hooked his right foot into the opposite loop. Once positioned properly, Melok passed his son the reins and two full saddle bags, and then smacked Gar on the neck affectionately.

  “I expected you to have Gar in his stall and saddled by now,” he chastised. “What took you so long to get out here?”

  Smiling smugly, Tamik pulled his red Secondary Rexrider’s sash aside to reveal his Senior Guardian’s sash. “I was held up by Grandmaster Tsi’galivo.”

  From the look of pride on his father’s face, Tamik knew that the man could not object further to his delay. Melok even smiled somewhat grimly, but it was a smile just the same. Given the crisis just averted, the reaction was sufficiently appreciative to lift Tamik’s spirits.

  “I’ll get the rest of the supplies for the trek and hail a calash out to the perimeter,” Melok said, pointing toward the great wall in the distance. “Get Gar into his stall. Saddle him and finish packing for the hunt.”

  Tamik nodded and kicked the rex into motion.

  The perimeter wall was a massive structure consisting of two parallel stone walls filled with rammed earth and capped with a paved promenade. It was large enough to keep even the most imposing thunderrex out. And raging flash floods could roar down the Kemek River Gorge and splash against the structure, pooling in the outer paddock and safely draining through the spillway that ran under the tall, slightly convex colossus.

  Individual stalls were constructed along its inside face, each large enough to house a prairie rex or a domehead or any other large domestic beast that needed to be sheltered. The stalls were arranged according to animal type. The rexes were sheltered closest to the main gates on the northern end of the wall; domeheads, sloggerbeasts and other domestic livestock were accommodated south of the gate.

  As Tamik rode with the rest of the pride toward the perimeter wall, Gar remained obstinate, resisting directions and still interested in pestering Rayak. He snapped at the old bulls haunches along the way, and sustained at least one solid thwack on the nose and a backward glancing blow from his hind claw. When they arrived at the wall, Tamik had to pull back hard on the reins using all the pain the hackamore could inflict to get his father’s mount into his own stall. Gar reared back on his tail and howled in protest clawing at the air with his two-pronged foreclaws.

  “Get in, Gar!” Tamik demanded, hanging on to the beast’s headgear, his feet firmly in the girth strap loops, heel-spurs driven into the loins of the rex. Finally, he managed to wrestle the animal into the chamber, slide off his back, and drop the stall’s iron-barred portcullis into place just in time to prevent Gar from turning around and leaving.

  Though recently cleaned, the cubicle still exuded the somewhat rancid smell of a predator’s lair. Its bare stone walls and arched ceiling formed a compartment barely large enough for a fully-grown rex to stand in and shuffle a bit.

  Tamik leaned back against an inside wall to catch his breath as Gar roared defiantly through the bars that separated him from Rayak and the rest of the pride.

  “Shut up, Gar! And come down here!” Tamik called back, fervently beckoning for the beast to lower his head. Gar stopped roaring, but still twitched and flinched, unsettled.

  “Now belly-down!” he said firmly. When Gar complied, Tamik rubbed affectionately behind the rex’s ear. The rider’s palms felt slippery inside his leather gloves. There was no doubt in the young man's mind that this animal, nearly ten times his size, could easily kill or maim him in these close quarters even if only accidentally, but preparing his father’s mount for the hunt took precedence over all. Tamik simply did not have the time to fear for his own safety. It helped that the rex was finally responding to him.

  Still, Tamik remained uncomfortable. The fact that he had spent so little time with the beast over the past sar made him feel ill at ease. He could not deny however, that he felt a slight sense of anticipation creeping into him. Maybe his father had been right in thinking he had been focusing too much time and energy on his guardian duties.

  No matter. There was work to be done here. Tamik looked at the two custom-made saddles hanging from the ceiling on suspensor-pulleys. One was designed for a single rider—well used by Melok both before Tamik was named a rexrider, and more recently during Tamik’s hiatus. The second saddle was larger and dustier. It had not been used in over a sar. This saddle was designed to carry two rexriders and their gear with room to spare. Tamik lowered the second saddle. Attached to its cantle was a hood made from the skull bone of a horn-face. This would protect the riders from the elements and the jaws of wild rexes, should they attack.

  Gar’s huge hind legs hunched up beside his hips, and his much smaller front appendages, each about the size of a man’s leg, rested beneath his chest on the fresh ferns in the stall indicating he was ready to receive his saddle. Tamik lowered the bulky contraption onto Gar’s back. Then he attached the saddle to the girth strap already in place, fitting it securely over the beast’s haunches on his sturdy back.

  Tamik ordered Gar to sit up so he could fasten both the saddle straps and the arm harness, and then had him belly-down again to tighten each strap with the tether crank. Gar groaned with discomfort, but then shook the saddle gently until it settled into its best resting position. Once he was lying back down, for the last time in this process, Tamik adjusted the fit of the gear and positioned the choke collar.

  Gar continued to open and shut his slobbering mouth repeatedly, making rhythmic snapping noises. He clenched and relaxed his hind claws continuously, digging through the carpet of ferns and scratching the flat paving stones beneath.

  It did not take a rexrider to see that the beast was still anxious.

  “Easy, boy,” Tamik reassured him. “I know your saddle is tight, but
if it’s not secure you’ll regret the sores later.”

  Tamik was pleasantly surprised to see his words had an almost instant calming effect. The beast’s restless movement ceased and he began to breathe regularly. The saddler and his crew had cleaned and repaired the rigging after the last hunt, and they would finish arming the rex before they exited the wall, but it was up to the rexriders to do most of the more intimate work, especially when the beast was hungry. And this recent defiance made him all the more dangerous to others.

  Tamik lost himself in his work and a sense of peace fell over him as well, underscored by the cadence of the rex’s breathing. The young man’s tranquil frame of mind made it all the more shocking when—after he had moved around Gar to check the saddle bags on the other side—he saw the hunched figure of the Seer in the shadows. The old man stood with one hand on his cane, the other on the snout of the beast. Beneath his bushy white brows, his black eyes pierced Tamik, palpable even in the dim light of the stall.

  “What in the dunghill are you doing!?” Tamik shouted, outraged by the Seer’s apparent foolishness. “Get away from there!” He rushed between beast and man, pushing the intruder away from the jaws of the rex. The Seer stumbled backward a step or two. Gar shuffled and growled at the sudden disturbance.

  Tamik reached up to pat Gar reassuringly on the lower jaw. “Easy boy,” he soothed, grasping the traces and pulling the beast’s head back down. Gar reluctantly lowered his head and settled, though not without snorting loudly, blowing dust and rushes toward the Seer.

  “You shouldn’t be in here!” Tamik scolded, treating the Seer like any old derelict seeking a handout. “How dare you come into this stall! He might’ve killed you!”

  “I have no fear for mine own life,” the man said calmly. “I come only to wish you a good hunt and tell you of what I have seen.”

  “I thank you for your intentions,” Tamik said impatiently, “but you should fear for your life around a rex, even a domestic one. Now get out of here! I have nothing to offer you for telling my fortune. Return after the hunt and I’ll see to it that you get a prime cut of fresh flesh.”