Rexrider (First World's End Book 1)

by Mark Angel

  Rayak-rex dove into the waterway after his youngest male offspring. He swam under the surface searching for him by taste. When he surfaced again he held the tail of the offending crox in his mighty jaws and shook his head viciously. The attacker released its prey and reached back to attack Rayak-rex’s submerged body, but the river crox’s long and narrow jaws were designed for an ambush-and-drown hunting strategy, and could inflict little damage on the adult bull rex that had initiated the attack. Other crox came to share in the meal and lost no time in picking up the injured fledgling, tearing him to pieces.

  “Cursed crox!” Almar exclaimed from the shore. The thrashing of several of the large beasts underwater near mid-river indicated a feeding frenzy was underway.

  Pako turned to Tamik who stood beside him among the group of onlookers. “To answer the question you asked me back at my hutch, I think we’re just beginning the ‘arduous part’ of our hunt.”

  As I pull your head close and press my nose to yours

  The sensation of your soft hair on my palms lingers

  Like the warmth of the postmeridian sun

  clings to the dry stone walls of the canyon.

  --Tamik

  9. Fireside

  Western Wilderness after dusk, 9/01/1643--

  While the rest of the rexriders hovered around the camp fire, Pako called Tamik into the shadows. He handed the younger man a purse. Tamik took it with a puzzled look. He opened the pouch and found it filled with legal tender: cubes of copper stamped with the image of a sloggerbeast head, silver ones imprinted with a domehead, and even a chip or two of gold with the head and tail of a rex on front and back, respectively.

  “That’s one sweet profit you turned," Pako said. "The odds were strongly against you.”

  “I guess Father thought so, too,” Tamik replied, somewhat ruefully as he appraised the currency.

  Pako chuckled mischievously, “Why do you think the odds were so much in our favor?” Pako winked and lowered his voice. “Now quit blathering and enjoy your winnings. How rare it is that a man gets to profit from gambling on his own head.”

  “Or bets against his own son.” Tamik tried to deliver the line with a dour look, but in the end could not help but smile at the gambit. He dumped the tender Pako had given him into his own purse.

  Pako put his arm around Tamik’s shoulder and led him back to the fire. They moved into the flickering light, taking their dinner bowls to the meal-pot, which simmered over the flames. Each filled his bowl with an assortment of dehydrated dirt-grubs and colorful sandal tree beetles, boiled up with different-colored tubers and spiced with peppercorns, salt-rock and camphorus pawee leaf. Then they filled their mugs with rich botes from another kettle. Pako offered Tamik a nip of ferment to tincture his drink. The younger man waved the offer away politely as he looked around for Tyna. He could not see her, but then heard her voice from behind.

  “Haven’t seen you out in the wilderness in some time,” Tyna said from the darkness that pressed in upon the fire. Her voice was soft and throaty. She appeared suddenly, firelight dancing over her, her colorful head-scarf shimmering. She approached the log Tamik was sitting on and pointed next to him as if to ask permission. It was hardly big enough for two, but Tamik welcomed her proximity. He slid over as far as he could.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve missed being out here,” he said. “I have to admit, it’s good to be riding Gar again.”

  Tyna raised her eyebrow skeptically, but wasted little time squeezing in next to him. Though he had not thought of her much in the past few sars, sitting next to her now, he realized he still longed for her. He squirmed a bit, as he fought to come to terms with a sudden rush of tangled emotions. If Tyna noticed his discomfort she showed no sign, though Tamik mused whether or not she was taking secret pleasure from it.

  The she-rexrider sipped loudly at her hot botes to cool the steaming liquid as it passed between her puckered lips. “Pity your sword broke.”

  Tamik smirked. “I’ll find another. I was glad to have a good adversary.”

  “Oh, Almar can definitely be adversarial,” she snickered, jostling Tamik softly with her shoulder. “And you handled your weapon well.”

  “I’ve practiced hard and had good teachers.”

  “Of course.” She looked over her cup at him as she took another sip. “Now you just have to learn to handle your father’s mount.”

  “I think I can handle him just fine,” he said sharply, then immediately regretted it.

  Tyna smiled reassuringly. “Well, at least with the sword you pretty much put Almar to shame. Do you think young Gar will be able to deal with Rayak as easily when they finally meet full on?”

  “I hope so,” Tamik replied. Enthralled as he was, he hid it. He was still feeling like Melok’s boy again, immature and confused about his sentiments. He seldom spent much time talking to women other than his sister, unless it related to his guardian’s training and duties. He almost wished he was back in the circle fighting Almar where his feelings and thoughts were much more clear.

  “It is good to see you again,” he continued, pleasantly surprised that he could maintain a coherent conversation, though his words sounded as if they came from someone else somewhere in the distance. “Maybe we can get to know each other better as adults. When we were younger we spent so much time together. But then . . .well, we lost touch.”

  She gazed down. She had put down her cup of botes on a flat stone beside the log and now deeply inhaled the steam from her bowl of stew. Though he thought his statement had been innocuous, Tyna’s pause made Tamik wonder if he had said something inappropriate.

  “I guess I haven’t been much of a rexrider lately,” he continued, an effort to fill the void created by Tyna’s silence. “I’ve been spending most of my time at Guardians' Gulch.”

  He exhaled when she finally spoke. “It’s not that, although you’re right about one thing—since your father made you Gar’s Secondary Rider, you haven’t exactly impressed the rest of us with your commitment. But it’s more than that. I guess I just got to an age where I was looking for more mature adventures. Nothing personal, but as Sama got older and my training intensified, I found I didn’t have much to talk with the secondary rexriders anymore. By the time Sama was Named and I became her Primary, I was spending nearly every waking hour working with her and learning from the more experienced riders.”

  “Either way, it’s nice to talk to you like a friend again,” Tamik said.

  “You must have a lot of other friends.”

  Tamik coughed once and cleared his throat. “Between what my father expects from me to help take care of Gar and my assignments at the Lodge, I don’t have much time for friends.”

  “What about the other Secondary Rexriders?”

  Tamik looked across the fire to where some of the other Secondary Rexriders were gathered. “Them? We’re not so close. I’m not that interested in what they talk about.”

  “See what I mean?” Tyna’s eyes glimmered in the dancing fire. “Maybe you’re getting to that age where you’re looking for more mature adventures, too.”

  Tamik indeed felt as if he had recently passed beyond his old circle of peers, mostly because of his advancement in the Order of Guardians. Still, he could not shake his ambivalence toward being a rexrider—his present comments notwithstanding—or consider those fellows across the fire his peers. He fidgeted for a moment, before blurting out a truly regrettable line.

  “You look really nice tonight.”

  The words stuck on his tongue like chalk. He regarded his impulsiveness with a little horror.

  “You can tell in this light?” It sounded like a straightforward question, but to Tamik it seemed loaded with hidden meaning.

  “I remembered from postmeridian,” he stammered, trying to step out of the coals into which he had just stumbled. “I saw you pretty clearly after swordplay.”

  “That’s odd. I thought you were paying more attention to Simad. She se
ems to fancy you a bit.”

  The assertion threw him further off-kilter, and Tyna broke out into her broadest smile of the evening. He shook his head and said, “I think she’d rather see me eaten by crox than offer me the least feminine courtesy.” The words could not get out of his mouth fast enough.

  Tyna squeezed Tamik’s knee gently. A shock ran up the young rexrider’s spine.

  “Well, I would certainly prefer you didn’t get eaten.”

  “I appreciate the consideration,” Tamik laughed, somewhat in relief.

  They again sat in silence, which Tamik found much more comfortable this time, watching the flickering flames and listening to them crackle. Tyna took small bites of her stew, simple movements that Tamik found elegant.

  “I’ll miss Stonehaven,” she said in a distant voice.

  Tamik hunted for her expression. “What?”

  “Sama is getting to that age, you know, like Gar. He’s challenging Rayak and striking out for Primacy. She-rexes get to an age when they are ready to seek out potential mates, you know, to try and have their own brood. Soon we’ll be leaving. That’s all.”

  “Can’t you put it off? Sama doesn’t seem too restless yet.”

  “I think we’re both getting a little restless.” Tyna sighed. “I want to see other places and people, too. I’ve heard how lovely it is in the Southern Kith. Fruits are bigger and sweeter. The sun is hotter. They say you can practically go without clothes, light time or dark.”

  Tamik choked on a titter, his reaction to the pleasant thought of Tyna frolicking naked in the tall southern flower beds.

  “I’d never consider going north or east. Too cold.” She started to take another sip of botes, and then reconsidered. “I think I’d like to get out of Stonehaven before a muster or hunt or some other circumstance beyond my control takes us somewhere I really don’t want to go. If Sama finds a mate somewhere else, I’ll always regret not leading her south first. Besides, we’ve got no one to miss us here.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Tyna shrugged. Her emerging straightforwardness amplified Tamik’s growing infatuation.

  “I hope we can spend more time together after we get back to Stonehaven,” he offered.

  “Of course,” she said, jostling Tamik’s shoulder with hers. “I like your company.”

  The comment released him as if from a tight binding.

  Tyna took out her hip-knife and dug a fat grub out of the makassa log upon which they sat. She bit off half and offered the rest to Tamik. He had not eaten one in many sars and at first hesitated, but did not want to seem ungracious. As he chewed the firm, and living flesh the flavor burst in his mouth like candy, the sweet flavor from the makassa sap the grub lived on lingering on his tongue, but he could not help but grimace at the sensation of eating a living grub, something he had often done as a youth, but not since.

  As Tyna stood she seemed tickled by Tamik’s expression. “It’s getting late,” she said. “We could have a long ride on the morrow.”

  Tamik got up and took her hand in a gesture of parting. In the grip, he could feel her missing ring finger. She had caught it in the saddle while dismounting during a routine hunt last season. After few seconds passed, Tamik noticed she was looking down at her hand, which he still held firmly.

  He let go, choking out a laugh. “Sorry!” He could still feel the warmth and imprint of her thumb and three fingers on his hand.

  “Sleep well,” Tyna said, and reached for the back of his head with her left hand. They pressed their noses together in farewell. The scent of her loose, herb-washed hair seasoned with perspiration and prairie dust intoxicated him. The bitter tang of botes on her breath would linger in his memory. She picked up her mug and was gone.

  Tamik did not really notice the walk back to his hutch, but when he got there, it did not take him very long to find that he could not sleep. This was why Junior Guardians were forbidden from engaging in any sort of intimate activity. His barely intimate contact with Tyna was enough to thoroughly disturb his sense of harmony. Nevertheless, he continued to savor their parting embrace. The silky sensation of her hair remained on his fingers like the pleasant aftertaste of a well-made fruit ferment. He hesitated to touch anything else lest he spoil the memory of her warmth.

  Other than Primacy,

  Territorial defense is the principal concern of an adult bull-rex.

  --Melok

  10. Hunt

  Western Wilderness at dawn, 10/01/1643 —

  It was still mostly dark outside the hutch-flap when Rayak-rex grunted loudly to rouse his pride. Melok awoke instantly and turned to look at Tamik, laying on the sleepskins next to his.

  “You up, son?”

  Tamik groaned. “Barely.”

  “Get a move on then. The pride is still hungry and eager to hunt again.”

  Melok dressed to go out to confer with the other Primary Rexriders at the rekindled cookfire. When he pulled the hutch flap back, Tamik’s face stung with the chill of first light. Through the opening, the eastern sky glowed with an orange tint.

  “Strike the hutch and repack the saddle,” Melok directed before stepping out into the dawn. The flap dropped back into place and it was comfortably dark again. Despite the pressure of an imminent hunt, Tamik remained sluggish. Shrugging off his warm sleepskins seemed too arduous a task. He briefly closed his eyes again and warm thoughts of the previous evening with Tyna washed over him. He drifted . . .

  When Tamik next opened his eyes, it was bright outside. Shot through with urgency, he dressed quickly but packed carefully, rolling the metallic camping equipment inside soft covers to prevent any more unnecessary noise from his gear. He dismantled the hutch and packed Gar-rex’s saddle like his father had taught him long ago. That his hutch was the last one standing did not escape him. Nor did the fact that most of the rexes were already saddled. When he finished his preparations, he joined the group of about twenty rexriders, including his father, that milled around the last remaining dung fire. Tamik hoped to catch a hasty breakfast or at least a mug of botes.

  “You must have had one blazer of a dream,” Pako greeted Tamik. He offered the younger rexrider botes, pouring the end of the pot into an outstretched mug. “We discussed leaving without you, but then Melok complained about having to ride Gar bareback. Besides, he seems to like having you along to do his dirty work.”

  At least half the group laughed openly.

  Melok touched his open hand to his chest in feigned insult.

  “What?” Tamik protested. “There are others still packing!”

  An unmistakable snicker came from behind him.

  Tyna. She was in tight fitting leathers that ran from her boots to her headgear. A short sword hung ready at her belt.

  Her sudden appearance jarred Tamik into complete wakefulness.

  “Some of us were waiting for you to arise,” Tyna quipped. “Wouldn’t be polite to make too much noise while the baby slept.”

  It was difficult for Tamik to frown with Tyna giggling so helplessly. “It won’t happen again,” he said somberly, before turning to address his father squarely. “Maybe you should just leave me home next time.”

  “Nonsense, my boy,” Melok said, sounding more amused than angry, although his voice grew tighter when he added, “I’m used to your sleeping habits, but you need to consider how it looks to the others. Now have some chew. We’ll be going soon.” Melok tossed his son a strip of smoked meat, before returning to his own preparations for departure.

  Tamik caught the provision gratefully. He was glad they were not obliged to fast while in the wilderness—one good thing about hunting. When he saw that Tyna had gone off to take care of her business, he left the fire to finish packing.

  It was not long before Melok called for Gar-rex and got him to belly-down in front of the saddle. After brushing off the animal’s back, Tamik helped by tilting the saddle back while Melok got Gar to back up slowly, fitting his stiff tail under the gullet of the cumbersome contra
ption until it began to ride up the animal’s spine to the full length of the saddle tree. Once it settled properly over his haunches, Melok looped the forestraps around Gar-rex’s outstretched forelimbs and hitched the girth strap into position around his belly. Tamik tightened the rigging with the tether crank and they mounted up.

  “Take the reins, Tamik,” Melok said when his son tried to hand him control of the beast. “I think you’re back into the flow of things by now.”

  Tamik was unsure if that was truly the case, but he accepted the added responsibility with little concern.

  When the riders were ready Almar prodded Rayak-rex, and the pride moved out, heading southward on the mud flats of the Red River. After Gar-rex fell into loose travel formation, Melok leaned back in the saddle to relax.

  During the early part of the turn, as the heat began to permeate the air, the hunting party came across several crox sunning along the river. Gar took obvious pleasure in chasing the toothy slime-lizards back into the muddy water.

  “There, Gar boy, a big one!” Tamik exclaimed. He yanked on the reins, urging the rex after it. The beast eagerly obliged, slipping and sliding toward the giant water lizard with all the grace of a sloggerbeast pup. Though Gar’s antics made for anything but a comfortable ride, Melok welcomed the diversion, distracting his mount from further displays of his rivalry with Rayak-rex. And though the crox were as long as the rex or longer, they dared not challenge a fully grown bull.

  Several other rexes joined in the fun, all too willing to take out their riles on the slithering animals after the recent loss of the juvenile rex. This lasted until Rayak-rex grunted, demanding the pride’s attention. The pride ceased movement. Even Gar-rex abandoned his pursuit. A sweltering stillness ensued.

  Tamik eventually moved Gar-rex into position behind Tiga-rex. “What’s going on?” he asked his father in a husky voice.