by Narro, B. T.
They’d spent the last week walking back from Merejic. Zoke found it much easier to travel back home than he did away from it, although that might have been because he had hope his home was still there. It would’ve made Vithos wrong about not only that but possibly everything—including that Zoke was considered a traitor.
Now that he’d returned to the empty camp, it became clear how silly those thoughts really were. He’d never known Vithos to be wrong before. Why expect it to be any different now?
Two days ago, they’d crossed through Lake Lensa, and Vithos had asked Zoke to clean himself in the water. Apparently, the smell he produced had grown to be unpleasant. Krepps tended to bathe only when filth or odor gave them reason to, and from what Zoke understood, Krepps didn’t naturally smell bad to each other. It usually took contact with mud or worse filth, and even then, many Krepps only washed the dirty spots on their bodies with a rag. Their skin was naturally dry and hairless except atop their heads, making it easy to clean. After five minutes in the lake, Zoke felt he’d done an adequate job and had left the cold water with no intention of returning in the near future.
Vithos followed Zoke to the hut he’d shared with Zeti, or at least where Zoke thought it used to be. “Where is it?” Zoke asked aloud. There were hardly any huts still there. It was like an enormous wave had run through the camp and the only remains had been scattered, moved from their original spot. “Someone must have taken it.”
“Zeti, I would assume. You would want a roof over her head wherever she is now.”
“Yes, but how am I supposed to find the sword she buried?” Zoke could feel desperation starting to claw at him.
“Would she take it with her?”
“No, it’s too heavy for her. She’d prefer her own, and she knows it’s mine.” There was a wooden table with a leg an inch shorter than the rest. Zoke climbed on top of it and steadied himself as it wobbled to a stop. He peered out toward the rising sun, shielding his yellow eyes. “She could have left a mark, some way for me to find it.” His heart was speeding up. I’m not leaving until I find it.
“Is it really so important she would risk going against Doe and Haemon to get it to you?”
“It’s the sword that saved my life twice.” Zoke saw nothing from the table, so he sat on it to get his feet back to the ground. There was a familiar squeak as his weight shifted off it.
“Could this be…?” He knelt to investigate the legs closer. “This is my table. I built this, but all four legs were equal when I left, and it wasn’t chipped and scratched.”
“Smart girl.” Vithos squatted to inspect the shortened leg. “She made it so no one would want it. Here’s your mark.”
Zoke put down his bow, quiver, and cloth bag of food, and took the rusted sword from his belt and threw it behind him. With a rush of eagerness, he knelt to the dirt underneath the table and started to dig. He clawed madly, throwing the dirt behind him without a single care what happened to it. Soon he met steel. He took a moment to enjoy the sweet relief he felt, then started pushing the dirt away, ripping the sword free.
“Satisfied?” Vithos asked.
Zoke ran a claw along the blade. He truly was, though it still beckoned to cut something. “Almost. I’ll be perfectly content when I get to use it.”
Silence came, and Zoke’s grin faded. He knew it was time.
Vithos looked at him with his long, brown eyes, waiting. His mouth remained steady, a flat line. “Will you come with me now that you see I was right?”
Looking back into the Elf’s eyes, Zoke knew then what his answer would be, but he still had some questions before he revealed it. “How would I even help?”
Vithos lowered his head, almost shamefully it seemed. “You’re the only one I can trust. I thought I’ve made that clear.”
Zoke remained quiet. Though it may be true, that wasn’t what he was asking. Vithos seemed reluctant to say more, so Zoke calmly informed him, “That didn’t answer my question.”
Vithos sighed. “I’m not proud to say it. I don’t know exactly how I’ll need you, just that I will. You can speak common tongue—that may be needed. You know more about the Slugari than I do. Let’s help each other.” Vithos’ voice trailed off. It seemed like he was holding something back.
Suddenly, Zoke realized what it probably was. It felt strange to ask aloud, though. Zoke bit down hard as he waited, hoping Vithos would elaborate, but the Elf said nothing more. He wouldn’t even lift his eyes.
He’s lonely…or will be without me.
As if he knew Zoke had figured it out, Vithos quickly lifted his head and pointed at him. “You should be asking me why you would want to come instead of how you can help. I have reasons for that.”
Zoke already knew that, though. He had his own reason to come. Vithos was right that Zoke knew more about Slugari. Books were not a popular commodity within the tribe, as Krepps hated writing even more than reading. This made books on certain subjects like Slugari, weapon making, and hunting highly valuable. Zoke had traded his way up to a book on Slugari just before his pra durren and had read it at least a dozen times in the four years since then. Even with his lack of taste for their green meat, he felt that any knowledge could only be helpful toward his role within the tribe. And in this book was his reason for wanting to find them.
“I’ve read Slugari keep tabs on movement above ground, making it very difficult for large groups of Krepps to hide where they are,” Zoke admitted.
For the first time, it seemed Vithos was confused. His brow furrowed and his mouth twisted. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I already know why I would want to come.”
Vithos’ eyes widened and a grin started to form. “And why is that?”
“Because the Slugari must know where the new camp is. They keep track of Krepp movement.”
Vithos showed him an open-mouthed smile. “See what I mean? Your help is valuable…so, you’re coming with me?”
Zoke nodded. “What other choice do I really have? I’m not going to get myself killed by walking into the camp alone if I even found it.” He pointed his claw at Vithos. “But you’ll help me figure out a way to be with Zeti again. That’s all I really care about.”
Vithos squinted his eyes as if insulted. “Of course I will.”
That led Zoke to his other question. “How?”
Vithos wiped some dirt from his arm and spoke calmly. “Once we remove Doe and Haemon’s power over the army, Krepps will split into separate tribes as they were before. There’s no way a group that large can be led by a Krepp. Their differences will separate them. Then it’s just a matter of finding sister to you, which I will help you do.”
“And you really think the Slugari will help fight against Doe and Haemon? They’re weak creatures—always running from Krepps, never fighting.”
“They’ll help however they can,” Vithos answered with a shrug. “It’s in their best interest. And if not, they’ll surely know where the camp is, like you said. Then we can figure something out.”
Without a better option, Zoke decided they might as well start walking. “Which direction?”
Vithos grinned. “South.” He motioned with his head, and they walked.
“I’m glad you know something about the Slugari,” Vithos said. “I know nothing except that it’ll be dangerous to meet with them; that is, if we can even find a way.”
Zoke felt his heart jump. “What do you mean, find a way? Don’t you know exactly where they are?”
“Yes, but I have no idea how to get to their colony besides digging.”
“But we can dig just fine.”
Vithos smiled and even gave a laugh. “Yes, but there’s something you’re not thinking about. They could be fifty yards deep. Even with you and me together, it’s going to take a full day of digging or more. Then, once we break through, it will be their roof that we’re using as a door. Who knows how high it is or what we’ll fall onto? And think of the welcome waiting for us.” He laughed on
ce more. “I don’t suppose we’ll be treated invitingly.”
“They must have some way of getting in and out. Slugari have been seen above ground only to disappear minutes later.”
Vithos shrugged. “My psyche doesn’t have the answers we need.”
Neither do books in this case, Zoke thought. But then an idea came to him. “The risk is that our hole will suddenly open underneath our weight, so let’s use something else to dig for us. Can you make animals dig?”
“It depends on the creature. I believe we could find one that would.”
“We can stay on safe ground so that we don’t expose ourselves until the animal digging for us has breached the Slugari colony. Then we can assess what we find below before falling into it. And the poor animal that falls in…”
“Better it than us. Good idea.” Vithos raised a finger to point at the rolling land ahead of them. “The Slugari are in northern Satjen. As much as it pains me, we have to cross through Kilmar.”
Kilmar. Zoke suddenly felt discouraged. He’d never been in Kilmar but knew of its reputation. The land was riddled with rocky hills. It contained treacherous paths between mountains and insurmountable slopes, and was best known for its sheer lack of even ground, making a twisted ankle become a common injury.
“If the Slugari had chosen their home knowing where Doe and Haemon were, then they were very smart,” Vithos said and then explained the annoying route they needed to take to get to the Slugari colony from the abandoned camp. Directly south was where they were headed, but they had to walk southeast and southwest to zigzag between mountains and hills. But worst of all was the massive desert in the middle of Kilmar, directly between their destination in Satjen. They both agreed it was worth the extra time to avoid it.
With his sword back in its sheath, Zoke had trouble keeping his claws off it. It was all that remained of his childhood with Zeti, and it had always served him well, protecting not only him but his sister many times.
The bow on his back, in contrast, he almost wished he’d never found. The weapon had a shape to it that did not carry well. To make matters worse, the weight of it and its ammo in the quiver around his shoulder had become a distracting pain. I don’t know what Zeti sees in this thing, he thought, trying to find a comfortable way to carry it.
As they went through the dry lands of Kilmar, he asked Vithos to hold the bow, but the Elf wisely convinced him that the man wielding the weapon should know how to use it in case they came under attack. Vithos did offer to carry Zoke’s supply bag, which was about as heavy a burden as the dirt caked into the soles of his feet. He spat at the suggestion.
When Zoke caught a glance at Vithos these days, he usually found purpose in his eyes and a grin about his mouth. A month ago, Zoke never had seen him with the same expression, not once.
The hardest part of befriending a psychic, Zoke found, was the inability to determine which of his own emotions were pure and which were manipulated through psyche. He developed a simple system. If he couldn’t determine the origin of a new feeling, he assumed it to be through psyche and would do everything in his power to rid himself of that feeling. Although no knowledge supported his method, it felt right and was easier than second-guessing everything constantly. It was rare for him to feel something without knowing why, making him believe Vithos hardly ever used psyche on him. But still, the fear was there as much as he tried to ignore it.
The sun had left the cloudless, dusty-gray sky as they came to the hills surrounding the desert. Besides a few thin paths darting between mountains, they were surrounded by slopes of dirt and rock.
“Tired yet?” Zoke asked.
“Of your stench? Yes.”
He wanted to spit, but the dry air had sapped all liquid from his mouth. “I’m sure you smell of rujins,” Zoke quipped. He’d heard they had a nice scent.
Vithos sniffed under his arm and released a curious hum. “That I do.”
“I may be a gurradu, but I can still smell the stench of a lie.” He put down his bow and quiver first, his back and shoulders singing with relief. Vithos began letting his bags down as well.
“What do you know of Kilmar?” Zoke asked. “Can we each sleep through the night?”
“Few animals still roam these dry lands. Unless Krepps find us, we’ll be safe. Even then, the nights have been fully dark, so they would stumble over us before knowing who we were.”
“Good. I’m sick of not sleeping a full night.”
Vithos ran his hand along the ground. “You might still have some trouble on this land.”
The Elf was right. Finding enough comfort to sleep was an annoying challenge that night—and each night after as well.
The weight of Zoke’s weapons strained his body during the day, and his feet ached during the night. The worst, however, were the seemingly infinite rocks digging into his back. It didn’t help that Vithos seemed to have no trouble dozing off on any surface, although Zoke did notice him rubbing his back and shoulders every morning.
After each difficult night, Zoke had grown more curious about the idea of psyche helping him rest, but the closer he got to asking, the more frightened he became. The thought of manipulating his mind to knock him unconscious started a wave of fears about what could happen, like vivid nightmares, sleep walking, and even never waking again. He couldn’t allow himself to be the first Krepp to test it.
On the third night, Zoke was clearing about two dozen claw-sized rocks where he wished to lie. Vithos was on his back, breathing rhythmically. He’s already asleep. One night I’d like to get there before him. Even with the rocks pulled aside, the ground was still lumpy. Zoke squirmed and rolled until his patience gave out, and he settled where his back and neck were straight but lumps dug into his legs.
Countless times he woke, each time more drowsy and sore than before. By the time light had spread across the naked sky, he felt like he’d spent the entire night tumbling down the steep hills around them.
He groaned as he sat up. As usual, Vithos was already awake and stretching, but with a worse grimace than the morning before.
“I wish I could say that will be our last night in Kilmar,” the Elf said.
“Have you eaten?” Zoke asked with a hand on his neck.
“I was waiting.” Vithos undid the string on one of his bags.
The Krepps sent to kill them had bread in their pouches. Most of it had dried by the time it was in the hands of Zoke and Vithos, so it was first to be eaten. There were still hard biscuits left, though. They were made to last and still were edible.
The kupota they’d brought initially had begun to grow stale. They had enough food and water for three days if they rationed well, but Zoke hoped they would join with the Slugari before then. They may not wish to feed a Krepp, but Vithos should be able to convince them—if they let me come in. He wondered what their first meeting would be like.
Neither he nor Vithos knew the Slugaren language, but Vithos seemed confident he at least could demonstrate they shared a common enemy even if they didn’t share a common language. There was also the bleak hope that one or more Slugari spoke common tongue, then Zoke could speak for them.
The worst problem was what they would think of a Krepp coming into their home. He couldn’t help but feel that the welcome that awaited him would be the same that awaited a wolf that had found a warren of rabbits—utter panic and immediate chaos. But then, as he thought about it further, it seemed his welcome would be more like the way a beehive would welcome any intruder—wild aggression.
The Slugari’s claws might be short, but there had to be thousands of them. Could Vithos really use his psyche to stop that large of a force? The image Zoke pictured of him and Vithos being swarmed by a sea of shimmering green Slugari made him shudder. Maybe I’ll let him go in first and wait above ground.
Chapter 40: Listen
ZOKE
Four days and four nights passed before they reached the green hills of Satjen. They agreed never to spend another night in Kilmar if
they could avoid it.
All that Zoke knew about Satjen was that its western coast was home to Tenred, and Vithos last felt the presence of Slugari somewhere in the northern center of the territory. The land seemed mostly untouched by the tribe, as there were trees and tall plants in every direction. The lush grass was a great relief from the dry dirt. It felt moist between the claws on his feet.
“Stomp your foot,” Vithos told him while holding a hand toward a cluster of trees. Zoke stomped twice without question then stopped. “Keep at it,” Vithos said.
Zoke saw something emerge from behind the base of a tree, but it was too dark to tell what.
“Stomp harder.”
His leg grew tired. His feet were sore even before he’d begun. “Why don’t you stomp?”
“I need to concentrate. Tap your sword instead, if you wish.”
He did and soon recognized the bushy tail of a fox. It was lifted curiously as it trotted toward him. “Is this to help us dig?”
“No,” Vithos answered as he drew his knife. “We won’t reach the Slugari location before tomorrow evening.” Vithos placed his other hand over the head of the fox, gently pushing down. The shine in its eyes faded as they began to shut. Its head folded down onto its legs. “This is dinner.” With startling speed, Vithos slammed his knife into the fox’s head.
“I’ll start collecting sticks and rocks,” Zoke said, his mouth already beginning to water. His stomach could handle most meats straight from the carcass, but even a gurradu like him could appreciate a hot, seared meal. Vithos, on the other hand, had told him that fish was the only meat he could eat uncooked—another drawback to being an Elf, Zoke assumed.
Vithos assembled the rocks in a circle with sticks and brush inside. “You’ll show me how to prepare the fox?”
“Doe never taught you how?” Zoke asked before he realized how stupid the question was.
“When we caught something wild, he would always do it while sending me off for some other task. I’m sure he didn’t wish for me to learn how to live on my own.”