by Mark Angel
“Have I expressed a want?” the Seer inquired gently, but firmly.
“What kind of game are you playing, old man? Be off with you! My father’s mount is hungry. If you’re not careful, he’ll make a snack out of you. Now go! I’ve got to be on my way.”
The crooked figure said, “A smuggler has fallen in the wilderness.”
“It happens,” Tamik answered reflexively, continuing to reassure Gar.
“She was surrounded by many wilds, more than usually gather together. This is the sort of information of which a leading rexrider needs to be aware.”
Tamik frowned. “Then you should inform Almar or my father. Last I checked, I was am still secondary to Rex-Melok and should be for some time to come! Now go!”
In the scattered light of the stall, it appeared to Tamik that the man’s hair and face might be glowing. Still, Tamik stubbornly turned his back on the Seer and checked the adjustment of Gar’s headgear one more time.
He looked back impatiently to see the man still there. “What am I supposed to do about some lost smuggler?” Tamik said with exasperation in his voice. “I’ve got more important things to worry about. The rexes are hungry and we need to get out into the wilderness to hunt!”
“While it is true you can do nothing about this lost smuggler, you may indeed find, however, that what I am telling you is among the more important things you must worry about.”
Tamik shook his head, truly at a loss.
“She met her fate in the northern parts of the Western Clan’s territory near the Red River.”
“Thanks, old man. I’ll keep that in mind. Now will you go? I need to finish my work.”
The Seer appeared to bow although he was so crooked it was hard for Tamik to tell. He shuffled out the side door and disappeared from Tamik’s view.
Tamik sighed and went on to check over every strap a third time. He saw to it that the temple buttons were properly positioned on Gar’s head, assuring optimal control. He aligned the throat catch, choke handle, and headstall assembly. Then he checked the tugs to ensure they were fit for a long ride. After gathering the rest of the hunting and traveling gear, he quickly loaded the saddle.
“That’s right, Gar, old boy,” he cooed in smooth, low tones, “I’m coming along to look over father’s shoulder again.” He slapped Gar firmly upon his left haunch. The rex swung his head back and blinked at him fondly.
Tamik casually rubbed Gar’s nose. Satisfied that the rigging was properly secure, he disengaged the tether crank from the saddle shaft and stowed it in its place on the saddle before beginning his final walk-around.
“Tamik!” someone shouted to him. It was Tyna, a spry young rexrider, calling from atop her mount Sama-rex as they passed Gar’s stall. Sama was one of Gar’s younger female siblings. She wore a single saddle, as Tyna had no secondary rider.
Though he had long since cast aside his feelings for her, in his youth Tamik had considered Tyna the standard against which all other young women should be measured. He spent many adolescent nights fantasizing about her, and though only a few sars his senior, she still seemed infinitely out of reach. Right now she was squinting at him with her big brown eyes from beyond the portcullis as she moved past the dark stall. She wore a green blouse under her red rexrider’s tunic which obscured—unfortunately, Tamik thought—the curves of her rather fetching torso. On her chin was a soft, purple discoloration of her skin that he fancied to think was shaped like a flutterbird. It was a trait, he recalled, that she had been self-conscious of as a girl. A trait others made fun of, but he always thought it especially charming.
“Tamik! The skywatcher is coming!” she shouted into Gar’s dim chamber. “We have to assemble outside the gates.”
“Coming!” Tamik yelled back, watching her bobbed auburn hair bounce behind her as she continued moving toward the gate where the rest of the Stonehaven Pride were sure to be congregating.
“And your father’s waiting by the armory!” Tyna called again, just before she was out of earshot.
Tamik extended his arm through the portcullis and waved an acknowledgement. Then he engaged the counterweights that assisted him in lifting the heavy gridiron, and hurried back to the rex. He climbed into the saddle, and, taking a deep breath exhaled, snapped the reins, and said, “Get up, Gar. Let’s go!”
Once out of the stall, Tamik could see his father near the armory conversing with Gar’s saddler. The place had become busy. Saddlers and attendants were outfitting the other rexes for the wilderness, and friends and families of rexriders had come to see their loved ones off.
Gar saw Melok, too, and trotted easily toward his Primary Rider. Tamik had him belly-down just outside the armory so saddler and crew could finish arming him. Tamik kept his hand on the choke collar just in case the beast had the inclination to snap at the attendants as they moved near to attach belly armor and a spiked collar. Cartwheels and long battle lances were placed on pinions at either side of the saddle, and each side quiver was filled with six newly sharpened and fletched throwing spears.
Melok passed more supplies up to Tamik, and then climbed agilely into the saddle seat beside his son. Preliminaries complete, Tamik urged Gar northeast toward the arched passageway through the perimeter wall gate; it was wide enough for four rexes to walk through abreast and high enough that their lances did not need to be lowered to pass under.
Gar was the last of the 14 beasts in the pride—five grown bulls, seven she-rexes, and two fledglings—to leave the inner paddock and assemble in formation. After he exited, the guardian gatekeepers, in teams of two, turned the large chain-wheels to close the immense gates, a duty Tamik had performed on many occasions. The huge iron hinges objected to the movement with deep groans until the metal-bound timber doors finally came together with a heavy thud. Tamik directed Gar to his position in the pride’s formation and pulled back on the reins.
“Down, Gar!” Tamik commanded.
The rex complied. Tamik clenched his fists over the reins as he gazed up at the young Senior Skywatcher on the promenade, not at all surprised to find he had more trouble controlling his acrimony toward her than he did managing his father’s beast.
Before any great or important undertaking
One should first invoke the Spirit of Mystery.
5. Convocation
Stonehaven perimeter wall before after dawn, 09/01/1643--
Tamik looked up from his saddle toward the top of the perimeter wall. The huge grey stones that formed the outer face were aged smooth. Thin, dark cracks showed where they had been fitted together by stone workers of generations past. On top of the wall, the skywatcher boldly stepped onto a railed platform that projected from the parapet of the promenade, just over the arch of the main gate. She gazed down upon the entire Stonehaven Pride, sparkling sharp tapers from their twenty-four lances seemingly pointing toward her.
Her stance conveyed confidence and power, and her Senior Skywatcher’s ceremonial cloak flowed seamlessly down to her polished black boots. Tamik remembered her from the few meetings of the Kith Council he had attended with his father. He also recalled her name, Navivanu. Since her brother had been exiled for misusing the Power, an event with which Tamik was intimately familiar, she was the only local skywatcher with six toes on each foot, endowing her with the congenital title of Venerable, as it was widely known that Venerable Skywatchers must have six toes. In fact, it was their toes that defined them as Venerable, for no five-toed skywatcher could be called such.
Tamik knew it had something to do with the Power—that those people with six toes had some special ability to engage the Flow. He only knew this because the issue had been raised during the trial of her Venerable Master Skywatcher brother. Tamik was certain few people outside the order contemplated the attribute as much as he did during those trying times.
Above him, Venerable Navivanu faced eastward up the Kazak Valley toward the bright dawn sunlight that streaked through a gap between the horizon and a drift of striated clouds that
seemed to be laughing at the parched earth below. Silver threads were woven into the skywatcher’s black cloak depicting astrological patterns that shimmered in the sun’s dawn rays. The breeze played with the skirts of her garment like a bundled curtain near an open window. The cloak shaded her from the harsh light, the cowl shrouding much of her pale face. Only her sharp chin and delicate hands were left gleaming in the sun.
She prepared to make convocation over the hunt, one of the many duties of her order. And even though this consecration was intended to honor and guide the rexriders as they ventured outside the protection of the perimeter wall, Tamik considered it a waste of his and everyone else's time. More welcome was the gathering of the rexriders’ family and friends, who flanked the skywatcher on either side. They watched through the crenelations of the parapet, assembled there to see their loved ones off on the forthcoming hunt, maybe for the last time, as the hunt was always a dangerous proposition, and there was no guarantee of a safe return.
Tamik searched for his own family and soon saw his pregnant sister, Meera, and her son, Ruko, who was waving to catch Tamik’s eye. Ruko, a boy of twelve, had a soft oval face like his mother, and a small, round nose and small ears. His piercing green eyes, set off by a full head of long, freely flowing black hair, were like those of no immediate family member. In fact, they more resembled Navivanu than anyone else nearby, a detail that amplified Tamik’s discomfort.
Seeing Ruko and his sister warmed his heart, but seeing them as the skywatcher was about to practice her art dampened his general feelings of affection. To him, all skywatchers were just as dissolute as the one who had molested his sister. And now, after his advancement ceremony to a Senior Guardian, his memories of that attack refreshed by the Master’s Dialogue, he was even more incensed.
Tamik watched as Navivanu slowly lifted her slender arms over her head, allowing the cloth of her sleeves to fall back to her narrow shoulders. Her alabaster skin and translucent hands sharply contrasted with her dark garment. The birds continued their songs, and the rexes shuffled in anticipation of the hunt, but her action, punctuated by the flapping of her robe in the breeze, brought a hush to the people assembled around her. She moved her head slowly, ceremoniously inspecting the crowd on the wall, and the rexriders gathered below before calling out in a distinctive voice in the formal cadence of her order:
“Hear ye all who can listen! The skywatchers have consulted the eternal Book of Change. Thusly, we predict that this will be an arduous, but favorable hunt.”
Tamik glanced around at the other rexriders who gazed up at her silently. Some watched with what appeared to be due respect for her position. Others looked on in obvious disinterest. Tamik did not care how he appeared, but only how he felt—pronounced bitterness toward her entire Order. Under his breath he said, “Whatever ‘arduous but favorable’ is supposed to mean.”
From his right side, Melok hushed him.
Tamik pulled out a scarf and began to tie it around his head, an act of disrespect given the still reverence usually reserved for such a time. Melok yanked the scarf away from his son and grumbled, “You’d best control yourself, boy.”
Tamik nearly snapped at his father for calling him, a Senior Guardian and Secondary Rexrider, a boy, but he managed to contain his reaction. Still, he did not offer his attention to the skywatcher. He could not bear to look up at her again, although he knew it was expected of him. He peeked at Tyna on Sama-rex in the assembled formation sitting just to the left of Gar. She was staring up at the skywatcher, exposing her long neck tanned from sars of working under the sun. She briefly glanced at Tamik with the barest hint of a scowl, offering no support for his misbehavior. She then shifted in her saddle before turning her attention back to the speaker above. With that, Tamik tasted what it felt like to be a reprobate, a sentiment he found not entirely unpleasant.
Navivanu continued her ritual, lowering her hands until they were stretched directly out in front of her shoulders, palms facing upward in a position to invoke the Spirit of Mystery. Then she began to intone the Sacred Sound. Soon, almost all present had joined in, voicing the fluid chant—I-Y-O-U-A-E.
Tamik derived some small satisfaction from the fact that his father remained as silent as himself.
The skywatcher brought her hands down until they were waist high, palms facing up, and the voices fell off. She turned her palms downward and a percussive rhythm, “ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka,” broke out among the gathered. When she dropped her arms to her sides the chanting stopped.
“Go with Spirit,” Navivanu called out to the rexriders. The ceremony had concluded.
“Go with Spirit!” Ruko called from atop the wall. His high-pitched voice cracked as it cut through the crowd which had begun to buzz again. Tamik looked up to see both Meera and Ruko waving down to him and his father. Tamik and Melok returned the gesture.
Almar kicked Rayak into motion, moving him toward the road out of the valley. The rest of the pride fell into place behind the Prime Bull in the formation determined by the pride’s hierarchy. Melok snapped the reins against Gar’s neck and father and son headed off with the pride.
The gentle rocking of the ride lulled Tamik to much appreciated sleep.
Death,
Ingeminate in the cycle of life:
Flesh into flesh.
Kill? Die? Be killed?
We gyrate haplessly throughout time and space.
--Pirlan
6. Dust
Western Wilderness after high meridian, 9/01/1643—
The hunting party had left the Kazak Canyon far behind and was heading northeast moving along the edge of the continental interior. The haze of floating dust and pollen that hung over the central prairie turned the sky solid red-orange in the light of the setting sun, but at ground level green lines reticulated through the yellow-grey prairie where water still flowed.
Gar plodded along behind the more senior animals as the pride searched for prey. He rode fourth back on the right in the “V” formation. Rayak rode point. Behind the Prime Bull were his sanctioned bulls, Kaved-rex and Nef-rex. Both beasts had been accepted into the Stonehaven Pride by Rayak. A sanctioned bull became a subordinate only after having been driven off by the Prime Bull in his original pride, failing to take over the pride of another, and not finding a mate to start his own pride. Therefore, both rexes with their riders were left to find refuge with whatever Prime Bull would permit them to join his pride, and for each it had been Rayak-rex.
Tiga-rex, Rayak’s mate, trotted behind Kaved-rex. Her most recent brood, one male and one female, sprinted along at her spurs, flitting in and out among the rest of the rexes like small birds flying amongst giant dactyls.
The drought-parched trail led them deep into the prairie toward the northeastern boundary of the Western Clan’s hunting territory. The rolling hills could look spectacular after the first rains, but now they were barely visible through this miasma, and parched and bare but for the shrubs and a few sparse leaves on the perennials. Finding prey this late in the dry season was seldom easy, as there was little to eat for the giant herds of migrating herbivores that provided vital sustenance to the rexes and supplemental meat to the citizens of Stonehaven. One could only hope that the rains, already tardy, would soon soak the Interior with life-giving water. The all-pervasive dust would then give way to a colorful carpet of multi-colored flowering plants, stretches of green club-moss, and sprouts of all kinds that would draw game back down from the far north.
The hot air of the extended dry season choked Tamik awake. The taste of sleep waxed pungent on his tongue, mixing with the filth kicked up by the lead animals. When he regained awareness of where the pride was, he frowned. He hated the wilderness. All of it. The insects and the grime. The dearth of amenities. The way the padded saddle-bench beneath him now wore on his tailbone. Most of all he hated that he was frightened of it, especially the way it felt when the rexes pursued and killed their prey. The rexes’ use of the Power shook him to his core, and he could not get
rid of that fear. And each step further in this direction made Tamik more apprehensive. He looked east over the seemingly endless prairie. Even with the sun so high, an orange hue contaminated the atmosphere.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget what the Seer had told him about the smuggler lost near Northpoint Station and the signs of a massive incursion of wild rexes. In his mind, he discounted the man’s words as absurd, but in his heart, he could not reject the possibility that the Stonehaven Pride might be heading into peril. But how could he warn his father, let alone the other rexriders about a threat that was imagined by a crazy old man?
As he struggled with his quandary, suffocating on the gritty air, he made an effort to disregard those words as whimsical. He was relieved when Rayak finally turned right off the main Caravan Route, taking a trail that lead in a more easterly direction.
Tamik glanced back at Tyna, riding behind Gar on Sama-rex, the youngest mature she-rex in the pride. He waved to her to get her attention. “I don’t know why we even bother with all that pompous skywatcher stuff back there at the wall,” he called out to her.
“Melok!” Tyna called past Tamik. The Primary Rexrider glanced back and she pointed at Tamik, slicing the air with her hand, shrugging her right shoulder, and twisting her face. She was using a common language of riding signals the rexriders had cultivated to convey messages between the distances and over the noise of riding.
Melok smiled wryly, and shook his head briskly, which caused his short salt and pepper hair to fluff outward into the wind. He next pointed at himself, and then his son, indicating that he would counsel Tamik on the considerable drawbacks of expressing his opinions so freely.