The Chosen (The Compendium of Raath, Book 1)

by Michael Mood

  Wren followed, stepping carefully on the wet stones of the stream bed. She pulled her pants on as she walked, the cold fabric sticking to her legs. She pushed her brown hair back from her face and it cascaded down her back, sticking there as well. She blew some water from her lips and stepped onto the dirt.

  She probably should have been terrified to be alone. Or felt helpless or weak. Or been ashamed. But she didn't feel anything of those things. At least, not strongly enough to bother her. I escaped death. Now where did my little savior get to?

  It was difficult to see Tessa in the darkness, but Wren swore she could almost feel her presence if she concentrated. Probably has something to do with this 'Calling' that Tessa keeps referring to.

  Wren followed Tessa until she came upon a strange sight. Six raccoons sat in a semi-circle all staring up at her. In front of them, folded very neatly, was a pile of clothing she recognized all too well: the shirt, pants, and boots she had killed the fox in. And there, with them, was the red and gold horse blanket that had been her armor on that dreadful night.

  Her stomach dropped.

  “These clothes have power on them,” Tessa said proudly.

  “I won't wear them,” Wren said, backing away. “I'd rather be naked.”

  Two of the raccoons looked at each other.

  Tessa's ears dropped and her whiskers twitched. “We thought . . . we thought you would like them. The raccoons cleaned them in the stream and I . . . Well, I picked them out. They called to me.” The mouse looked so sad that Wren felt simply awful.

  Wren looked down at herself. She had tried to scrub her clothes clean, but they still looked rancid, full of her vomit and other things. The clothing the raccoons had brought shone in the moonlight, seeming to radiate their own light, cleaned by experts.

  "Could you turn around?" she asked the animals.

  Tessa and the raccoons did as they were asked.

  Wren pulled her clothes off and put them on the ground. She tenderly picked up the new pants and pulled them on over her wet legs, cinching the rope belt around her waist. She grabbed the shirt and donned it, pulling it down over her lean torso. Then she stepped cautiously into the boots. They were soft on her feet and felt amazing.

  Lastly, she picked up the horse blanket. Its colors matched her glowing vine marking almost perfectly. She stared at it, trying to quell the nerves in her stomach. She looked down at Tessa and the raccoons and slung the blanket over her shoulders like a cloak. It hung nearly to the ground, just brushing the leaves that adorned the forest floor.

  Suddenly she was warm when she had been cold. Cold for so long. Now warm.

  "Alright," she said. "I'm ready for you to see me."

  The animals turned back around.

  Tessa nodded her tiny head. “Mistress, it looks very fine. They will be impressed when we reach the Dryad Tree.”

  “Who will?” Wren asked.

  “The people who have answers for you, I would assume” the mouse said.

  The bear lumbered out of the forest with a fish in his mouth. He came up to Wren and laid it at her feet.

  “Probably need to cook it for me,” she told the bear.

  “That is a task for you,” Tessa said. “Animals don't know fire, mistress.”

  “You eat it, then,” she told the bear. “I don't know how to make fire right now.” Her flint and tinder were back at her farm. There was some method where you rubbed sticks together, but that took forever and she wasn't sure she had the strength. “I'll have to eat berries.”

  The bear looked at her and then laid down in front of her, prompting a ride.

  “Mistress wants to walk,” Tessa explained. “Lead the way, bear.”

  And they were off, Wren both comfortable and uncomfortable in her new clothing.

  Their party had grown. All six raccoons were scampering after them.

  Chapter 12 – The Hunt

  -1-

  Otom had traveled far in the past week. He could have made the journey much faster in his youth, but he was finding that his survival skills were rusty. He had to take it slow. No need to push himself. My glowing symbol isn't going anywhere.

  It should have been getting slightly warmer as he worked his way southeast, but it was not. The wind howled as furiously as it had on the shores of Kilgaan and Otom was beginning to wonder if winter would ever fully give way to spring.

  It was the middle of the night but there was a bright moon; the kind that wolves called to and thieves cursed. Otom sat silently rubbing his hands near the Fire he had made. He'd dug himself a little place to sleep in a snow bank and was bundled in all the clothing he had brought, but for now he didn't feel like sleeping. He was too close to Pakken to sleep.

  The town he grew up in couldn't have more than two bands to the southwest. He almost felt as if he recognized some of the trees in this area, but he couldn't be quite sure. He had also seen signs of the war that had shaken Hardeen and Shailand, and had apparently touched even this far north. A few days ago he had unearthed a corpse while digging a place for himself to sleep. The dead man had been wearing full armor with Hardenic markings on it. The symbols had made Otom shudder. During his nightly flagellation he added an extra stroke. After that he'd salvaged a few well-preserved things from the dead soldier and then been on his way after a quick prayer.

  He was a man of God, after all.

  Pakken pulled on him and Otom resisted. If he went back there now what would it prove? Nothing would be solved. Nothing would change.

  He heard a wolf howl. The hunter he had once been stirred within him.

  He drew from his power and Calmed himself while adding a bit more Fire to the blaze in front of him.

  Then he let his mind drift back.

  -2-

  14 Years Ago

  Otom lined up the shot carefully, holding his breath to steady himself. The arrow's long feathers tickled his ear as the wooden shaft waited to be released. Just before the buck bolted, Otom let his fingers slip off the string.

  The arrow shot almost silently into the side of the animal, driving in and sticking there deep. Right on target; right near the heart. Probably in it. The buck sprang forward with a kick.

  Otom was still fairly sore from his fight against Ris at the tournament, but he tore off after the buck, nocking another arrow as he ran. The animal was huge with a massive rack on top. Da will be so proud! This animal would last Otom's family a long time. He had to take it down. He lost sight of the buck itself, but the trail of red on the snow was easy to follow. The animal didn't get far. It lay dead on its side when Otom finally caught up with it, blood leaking from its mouth.

  He bent down to inspect the beautiful animal when his ears – one of which was still battered from Ris's assault - barely caught the sound of something crunching in the snow to his left.

  Crrrrunch.

  Whump.

  “Hello?” Otom called.

  He stood up cautiously and squinted towards where he had heard the sound. It probably wasn't another deer; that wouldn't make any sense. He was doubtful it was a wolf, and people were a rarity around these parts. Perhaps a bird had knocked snow from a branch as it took flight.

  Otom stalked closer to the source of the strange noise, scanning, all senses on full alert.

  It was his sense of smell that informed him first, as was usually the case. A gust of wind pushed the fragrances at him in a flurry. His mind flashed back to the Fool's Heart Tavern and what he had smelled there. Her scent brought her rushing back to him, but it was mixed with sweat and blood.

  Otom took a few more quick steps and found Allura Finny face-down in the snow in front of him.

  “What the hell?” he said to himself. He slung his bow on his back and gathered her up. Her head flopped backwards as he cradled her. She was like a rag doll. He had to put his face by her mouth to make sure she was breathing at all. Her blond hair was falling out of her hood and had blood in it; not a lot, but enough to concern Otom. “Allura?” he asked.

>   No response.

  He began to stumble back through the snow, carrying her dead weight in his already tired arms. She wasn't dressed well enough to be out doing whatever it was she was doing. She was wearing a warm coat, but no boots, only thick socks. Her pants weren't thick enough for this kind of cold, either. Her face looked very pale.

  Even had he been able to ask questions of her he wouldn't have. No time to waste. Have to get her to safety. The buck would have to wait. Otom briefly memorized the trees so he could find his way back later.

  Allura began to mutter about five minutes into Otom's half-walk half-run back to his house.

  “My savior,” she said. “My fire.” She kept saying it over and over.

  “Allura?” he tried again.

  “My savior. My fire.”

  Her eyes were still closed and she began to writhe in his grip.

  “You have to hold still,” he said. His arms felt like they were going to fall off and he almost dropped to his knees right where he was, but he could almost see his house. The small cabin slowly became visible over the hill and Otom used the sight of it to fuel his body.

  Just a little farther. Just a little farther.

  Allura's eyes fluttered open. “Otom,” she said.

  “Yes. Yes. It's me,” he grunted, panting mist into the world.

  “I made it to you. I made it.” One of her eyes was bloodshot.

  “Yeah, you did. I'm taking you to my house so my ma and da can take care of you.”

  “Oh, no,” Allura moaned. “I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

  “Look,” Otom puffed, “I don't have much of a choice here. Not to be insulting, but you're getting very heavy.”

  “I might be able to walk,” she suggested. “But please don't take me to your house. I promise-” She coughed for a few breaths; deep hacking coughs. “I promise I'll explain what's going on, but don't take me to see anyone else. I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

  Otom closed his eyes and took a massive breath. A weight dragged his foot to the ground with each step. What the hell was I thinking going hunting in my current state? He hadn't realized how drained he still was from his tournament beating. He might not have even been able to drag the buck back on the sled that he'd-

  He hadn't even thought. “Ohhhh,” Otom moaned.

  “Wha?” asked Allura.

  “Better if I don't tell you,” he said. Had he carried her without thinking simply because he had wanted to gather her into his arms? He knew the answer was yes. He'd left a perfectly good sled out in the woods somewhere. He would have to go back for it later, but for now . . . He abruptly changed course then, turning sharply to his left and away from his house. If Allura didn't want to go there that was fine with him. He would take his beauty somewhere else.

  “Where we goin'?” she slurred, becoming incoherent again.

  “A place I built a long time ago. You think you can climb a little way?”

  “I prolly can,” Allura said. She balled herself up a little tighter and shivered. “I like to rest in your arms.”

  Otom didn't have a reply to that.

  He trudged up to the base of a large fir tree and knelt down, setting Allura gently onto the ground. She struggled to get up and ultimately, with Otom's help, was able to stand with some wobbling.

  “I'll go behind you,” Otom said. “The handholds aren't what they used to be, but it looks like everything else is sturdy enough.”

  Hand over hand Allura went up the trunk of the tall tree. Otom carefully followed behind feeling only slightly embarrassed when he to put his hand on her backside to push her the rest of the way.

  They both tumbled out into a plain, square room. It had two tiny windows that faced opposite directions and branches had grown in and through it, cutting at odd angles through the place. It blocked the wind, though, and that was what was important right now.

  Otom's treehouse had been heavily used when he was younger, but now not as much. It had begun to seem a boyish thing to him. Now it was anything but. Now it seemed a very serious refuge indeed.

  Allura lay panting on her back a few feet from where Otom now sat. He slung off his bow and quiver and then began to take off a few of his tertiary layers of clothing and laying them on Allura's feet and legs. Frostbite was uncommon among northerners, but Allura had never claimed to be from around here.

  “You can still feel everything, right?” he asked.

  “I can,” said the girl. “Hurts like hell, but I can.”

  “Fine,” Otom said, laying his cloak on her legs. He started to push her hood back to try and determine where she was bleeding from when she grabbed his face in her icy hands. She pulled his face down and pressed her lips against his. They were ice, too, but it didn't really matter to Otom.

  She pulled away. “My savior,” she said, and resumed the kiss.

  -3-

  “What exactly did I save you from?” Otom asked, his voice cracking. He had stopped the kiss despite how it had made him burn. His need for information was stronger right now and the girl was making his head reel. Something doesn't sit right about any of this.

  Allura looked up at him from the floor of the treehouse. “So very many things, Otom. Well, to start . . . I think God led me to you.”

  “He did, did he?” Otom asked. He was skeptical, hadn't thought much about God.

  “Yes.” Allura nodded, then winced.

  “Let me look at your head while you talk, at least,” Otom said, making a second attempt at pulling back her hood. This time he succeeded. “Looks like you took a blow here,” he said. There was a large lump under her hair. Otom didn't think it was life threatening.

  “Yeah,” Allura said. “Ris did that to me.”

  Otom stood up quickly and smashed his head into the ceiling of the treehouse. “Damn,” he said, rubbing it. “Ris is involved in this? I thought that idiot would be.”

  “You were right, Otom. In the brief moments I knew you, you were always right. You're everything that Ris is not and that's why you can save me.”

  “Me specifically,” Otom said flatly.

  “Yes.”

  “Because God led you to me.”

  “Yes.”

  Otom wasn't sure what he believed, but what Allura seemed to be saying was that Ris had hurt her and then she had come to Pakken – where she very vaguely knew only one person – instead of to wherever she lived.

  “Well,” Allura said timidly, “If you want to be technical, Ris led me here.”

  “Ris was coming to Pakken? Why?”

  “I don't know,” Allura said. She was on the verge of tears. “But I begged him to stop. Pleaded with him. He got this wild look in his eyes and just said we were coming here. When we got close I tried to slow him. We fought and I tripped him into some sort of ditch in the snow.”

  “A drift?”

  “A drift,” Allura agreed. “I got as far as I could and I heard some sounds and then I saw you and then I passed out.”

  “Was Ris . . . coming here to see me?” Otom asked, squinting and rubbing his forehead.

  “Something snapped in him,” Allura said. “He really wanted to win that tournament. I think he blames his loss on you. I don't know.”

  “Blames his loss on me? He pummeled me within an inch of my life, Allura!”

  “I think you put up more a fight than he expected. He was too weak to win afterward. I don't know. He raves, Otom!”

  “We need to get out of here,” Otom said. He sidled over to a small window and looked out. He didn't hear anything, but that didn't mean much. The wind might cover their tracks in a few days, but right now there was a trail that Ris could easily follow. “We gotta get someplace safe and we have to get your head looked at.”

  Allura tried to sit up, made it halfway, and then fell backwards with a heavy thud. Some snow and pine needles flitted down from the ceiling.

  “Don't do that,” Otom hissed.

  “Dizzy,” Allura said. “I'm so diz
zy. Something in my head. Making me dizzy now.” She was out of it again, her eyes fluttering open and closed, ice still frozen on her long lashes.

  “It's your wound,” Otom said. I've underestimated the damage. “Let me go get a few things from my house. No one has to know you're here if that's what you want.”

  “No one,” she echoed.

  “You stay here,” he said, tucking her in.

  No answer from Allura.

  Otom needed to hurry, and he knew he probably couldn't get Allura down from the treehouse in this condition without injuring one or both of them, so he struck out again on his own. He careened down the gentle slope to his house, using a good deal of energy in the process.

  Allura probably needed food and water and maybe some kind of poultice. Otom knew a few things for bruises and infection that he could probably whip up from supplies at home. Being a hunter and a fighter had taught him how to deal with injury. I just hope my knowledge is enough. The hard part was going to be lying to his parents. There might be enough food and supplies in the shed, except for the water, which would be on melt near the fireplace inside. That was the least suspicious of the items, however. Otom could claim a lack of luck with his hunting, grab a new skin of water and be on his way. It was still early enough that it wouldn't seem suspicious. He would 'take one last try before dark.'

  The door to the shed creaked open and Otom eyed the windows of his house for any movement. The shed held plenty of dried meat so he picked a few tasty items and began to pile them up, taking a bite of jerky for himself.

  He rummaged through the herbs and had to settle for a few he knew would work, even if they weren't ideal. He carried his spoils behind the shed and stacked them there for the moment.

  Then he braced himself to go into his house, hoping he didn't look like the nervous, disheveled mess he felt like.

  He clicked the latch and stepped inside. He was greeted by a blast of warmth.