by A. D. Green
Nihm didn’t answer but lay back on her roll and looked at the night sky through the broken canopy. It was clear and bursting with stars. One of the moons was visible, her own Nihmrodel taken for her naming, the smallest of the tri moons. She breathed deeply, feeling the familiar connection to the moon because of it. It always calmed her. More reflective she thought on the hunt and her Da’s words.
He’d taught her in the ways of the forest for as long as she could remember. He never offered much praise, it was not his way, but she knew he thought well of her. Glimpsed his pride even as he sought to hide it. Thinking about it now she had thought it a game.
“I think I understand.”
Darion smiled. “Good Lass, let’s hear what ya think.”
“I think you’re not a deer and definitely not a boar,” Nihm said. “It was not a test you gave or a challenge really but a lesson.”
“And the lesson?”
“Hunting man is dangerous,” Nihm replied.
“Good. Continue.”
“A man is devious,” Nihm said and Darion chuckled. “Hunting a man is difficult, unpredictable. A man lays a trail like any beast. But, if the man knows he is hunted then he knows the path the hunter follows and suddenly the man is the hunter if he chooses. So the lesson is, know your quarry,” Nihm said.
“Just so. Consider the hunted, what they are, what they have, what they could do and prepare accordingly. A careful hunter would do well to always consider these things. Now what mistakes did ya make?”
Nihm had already thought on her failings and was quick to answer.
“I tracked easily but…well…I wasn’t tracking you so much as you were leading me,” she said. “I was too quick when I found you, and careless. I should have observed rather than reacted. Then I would see that your stick man wasn’t moving. I saw your cloak and hood and Bindu lying there and saw what I wanted. I should’ve seen the trap or felt it.”
“Why did ya not?”
“I guess I was too eager to put an arrow in your back.” Nihm smirked.
“Yes, that woulda smarted by the way. Did ya think I would sit in the open and wait for ya to plink me with a puncher? At my age? Ya’re excellent with the bow Nihm, but a puncher to the back of the head can kill just the same. Ya should’ve been suspicious.” Darion lectured.
“Thinking about it now, that was a bad mistake. So did I fail my lesson?” Her Da was silent a while and Nihm was just starting to wonder if he'd reply when he did.
“Well ya died. But no lass, as long as ya learnt the lesson it’s not wasted. Just try not to learn it again in the real. As annoying as ya are I’d miss ya fierce-like.”
With that, he rolled over. “Bindu guard,” he growled. The wolfdog got up from the fire and padded off into the night.
It was still dark when they broke camp the next day. They chewed hard tack and ate nuts for breakfast. Nihm scavenged some ommi berries, tart at this time of year. Her Da accepted some.
“Not too many lass or ya stomach will not thank ya for them.” He warned popping a couple in his mouth with a few nuts.
They talked little as they trekked home following old deer runs with Bindu ranging ahead. The woods were alive with bird song and once they saw deer and another time heard, in the distance, the rumbling call of a forest bear. The forest lightened as the day drew in. It wasn’t long after that they heard the soft tumble of water and, excited, Nihm raced ahead.
The mighty Fossa thought Nihm bursting through to a clearing on the edge of the river. Although the Fossa didn’t look so mighty here, she could just about throw a stone to its far bank. Thought was enough and leaning her pack and bow against a tree Nihm scrambled on the ground for a suitable candidate. Finding a nice smooth stone on the river’s edge that fit her hand nicely she backed up and prepared to launch it.
“No lass, that’s nae a good idea.” Darion said, as he broke through the undergrowth and saw Nihm gathering herself. “Ilf land, let not the touch of man sully it.” He quoted the old saying.
But Nihm was committed, or so she told herself, skipping forward arm back for the throw. Darion mumbled under his breath and, distracted, Nihm’s left foot clipped her right as she planted it and her skip turned to a stumble. Suddenly, arms flailing, she fell head first into the shallows at the river’s edge.
Nihm’s face slapped the surface and kissed the river bed. It was bitterly cold and she leapt up with a splutter, choking out water. Blood dribbled from her nose as she waded back to the side, her clothes sopping wet.
The shock of the cold water left her gasping and embarrassed. That turned immediately to anger at hearing her Da’s laughter. She pulled her cloak off balled it and threw it at his face. He caught it easily but not without getting a spray of water for his trouble which set him off even more. It was an infectious laugh and Nihm couldn’t help but grin before laughing herself.
Stepping behind a bush Nihm wrung her clothes out before donning them again. It was going to be a cold and wet walk home but at least it wasn’t far, a couple of hours at most. The Fossa marked the western border of their land. From here the woodland thinned out changing to grassland.
Darion whistled for Bindu and Nihm wondered suddenly where the wolfdog had gone. She should’ve come when Nihm fell in the river, or at their laughing afterwards. Nihm quickly wrapped her cloak about her shoulders as her Da whistled again, a different tone, lower. Nihm knew it for the recall and this time heard a deep bark as Bindu responded.
Stepping out from the bushes Nihm moved to Darion’s side. He’d gathered their packs and held her bow out. Taking it Nihm saw he’d strung it with one of his dry strings. His own bow was set and the tie on his long knife had been slipped. Nihm did the same just as Bindu bounded from the bushes.
The wolfdog sat in front of Darion an excited tension to her. Kneeling he ruffled her neck.
“What is it old girl?”
At this Bindu was up and back at the undergrowth she’d come from. Turning her head Bindu looked back at them.
“Okay, show us what ya found.”
Bindu disappeared into the bush, Nihm and Darion trailing behind. As Nihm had been taught and taking Darion’s lead she sniffed the air, eyes ranging, listening for any sounds that didn’t belong.
Bindu didn’t lead them far. It was down wind of their spot by the river or Nihm was sure they would have smelt it.
A massive forest bear, dead and stinking, lay in a dried pool of blood. A thick shaft stood out from its flank and a deep wound was hacked into its neck. It must have cut an artery as blood, dried black, painted a path on the forest floor and coated the leaves of the undergrowth.
“Bindu guard,” Darion murmured, bending to examine the bear, disturbing a horde of flies.
Nihm watched him work, saw him spend some time over the front paws. The bear’s head was bloody and her Da looked grim as he examined the red raw mass where its ears should have been.
Darion moved to the arrow and pried it loose with his knife. He gave it a cursory glance before carefully wrapping it and placing it in his pack. He searched the area around the bear, probing with eyes and fingers.
“Best hurry home,” he muttered standing abruptly, his brow creased.
“Who killed the bear? Was it ilf?” Nihm had never seen an ilf but she knew all the land to the west of the Fossa was theirs.
“Nay, the ilfanum don’t kill like this. This was urak.” He spat this last. Nihm about to speak was stayed by his look.
“Now’s not the time Nihm. Need to check on your Ma and the homestead.” Darion gathered his pack and held his bow ready with arrow on the string. He whistled at Bindu as he set off leaving Nihm to trail behind.
They soon cleared the forest and followed an overgrown path through the grasslands moving quickly. The sun had passed its zenith when they crested the rise above their home. Darion hunkered down in the tall grass and Nihm followed his lead.
A lazy ribbon of smoke rose from the large stone and timber house. Four large dogs
were in the yard; two lay in the shade of the smoke house and two sprang about playing and nipping at each other, one dark the other a dirty white. Nihm grinned at the sight.
A woman emerged from the smoke house walking towards the homestead before stopping, turning and staring up the small rise. She squinted shielding her eyes before cupping her mouth and shouting.
“Stop gawping like a young boy Darion. You’re late.”
“How does she do that?” Nihm said, standing up in the tall grass. The woman waved and she waved back smiling. All four dogs were up and barking. The two playing stopped their game and raced towards her.
“Aye it’s a talent alright,” Darion muttered rising and strolling down the slope, “Comin’ Marron.”
Nihm skipped ahead laughing as the young dogs reached her. They jumped and brushed up against her vying for attention. The grass rustled then exploded. A large bundle of fur and claws leapt on the nearest dog pinning it down sinking teeth into the ruff of its neck. The other dog yelped and lay flat.
Darion strode past. “Come girl.”
Bindu was up and following in his steps. The two young dogs, suitably chastised, whined at Nihm’s feet.
“Bindu got you good, eh Ash,” she knelt, ruffling his head. “And you weren’t much help Snow.” The large white dog nudged a nose at Nihm and barked.
Laughing Nihm raced the dogs to the homestead. Happy, they cavorted around her yipping and tails wagging threatening to trip her up. By the time Nihm reached the yard her Da was already talking quietly with Marron.
They broke off their conversation and turning, Marron regarded her daughter casting a critical eye up and down shaking her head. “You’re as bad as Darion child. You’ll catch a chill wandering about in damp clothes. No don’t hug me!” Her eyes flashed as Nihm tried to embrace her. “I’ll bring you some clothes. Get yourself washed up round the back before you come in to eat.”
Grumbling, Nihm sauntered to the water trough. Glancing back she saw her Da wrap an arm around her mother as they walked to the house. She couldn’t keep the grin from her face as they shut the door behind them with a bang.
Chapter 2
: On the Trail
Marron turned the arrow shaft over in her hands. It was dirty black and thick as her middle finger. The tip was serrated with several vicious barbs for hooking flesh. “Urak for sure. Damn it!”
Darion considered. “Long time since they’ve been seen in these parts. Pretty sure the bear took one but I saw signs of at least four others.”
“Scouting party then but scouting for what?” Marron was all business.
“Not sure but we need to find what they’re about. I’ve a bad feeling about this.” Darion took the arrow from her hands. “I’ll head out with Bindu. See if I can track them. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“This isn’t right. The last urak incursion was over a hundred years ago. Why cross the mountains now? What are they doing here?” Marron frowned. “I think we have to contact the Order; let them know.”
“Think we should talk ta Nihm?” Darion said. “She’s seen her sixteenth name day. She’s old enough ta know.”
“See what you find out first. I’d best hurry with Nihm’s clothes, that girl will smell trouble otherwise.” Marron turned and disappeared into Nihm’s room.
Darion placed the arrow in a chest near the hearth before stoking the fire. He was staring into the flames deep in thought when Marron bustled out again with an armful of clothes and a drying cloth.
It was mid-afternoon when Darion and Bindu reached the bear. He was armed with bow and sword, the latter strapped in its scabbard across his back where it would not obstruct his legs in the dense undergrowth.
He smiled thinking briefly of Nihm. She’d kicked up an almighty stink when she saw him preparing to head out and realised she’d not be going. She was as stubborn as Marron, almost.
His smile faded as he approached. The rotting stench of death was powerful and cloying but Darion had hunted most his life, he’d smelt worse. This, along with the fly eggs and maggots told him the bear was killed the day before, early. So the urak had a day, maybe day and a half, on him.
He had Bindu sniff the black blood coating the bear’s paw to get a scent and watched as she loped off into the scrub. Crouching, he examined the area. In his mind he slowly built a picture of what had happened.
The bear came from the river following a faint trail through the undergrowth. Early morning, he surmised, the urak must have camped nearby and ambushed the bear from the surrounding accacha bushes. Pretty brave and pretty stupid taking on a forest bear, especially one this big. They’d not skinned the bear apart from taking the ears. So why attack something that was more as like to kill you? It was an unknown and it nagged at him.
The confrontation had been short and bloody. The bear had killed or mauled at least one before a shaft struck wounding it, then the killing blow to the neck. It was powerfully struck, forest bears were notoriously tough, their pelts dense, the fur offering good protection. Superstition said they could even turn a blade.
Darion ran his hands along its flanks; the fur was thick but soft. It was the first he’d seen one up close. So much for superstition, still it was magnificent, even in death. What must it have been like in life? The thought saddened him.
Bindu gave a low bark from deeper in the forest. A short walk through undergrowth and Darion found the urak. The bear had ripped its guts out, its entrails coiled on the ground in a black pulpy mass. Its throat had been slit and it stank worse than the bear. Darion waved a hand disturbing the flies swarming the body.
The urak was manlike and of a size to him only heavier with short stocky legs, a large thick body and powerful arms. Claw marks rent the face and sickly grey flesh hung off on one side. The corpse had been stripped, leaving only the stained and bloodied leather jerkin and soiled skirt.
The blood was tacky to the touch. Dead a day; its wounds were mortal and it wouldn’t have lived much longer than the bear but judging from its slit throat, his friends hadn’t waited round for the dying. Expedience or mercy, Darion wondered.
The surviving urak left a clear trail; at least one carried an injury. They’re not the most subtle of creatures, he thought as he set out after them.
He tracked till dusk. Night fell quickly in the forest and Darion wriggled into a thicket of thorn bushes. Using his small hatchet to trim away interior branches he made a snug that would keep him well protected until morning. Darion wrapped his cloak tight and settled in. It was going to be a cold night.
Darion tracked throughout the next day, moving ever northward and deeper into the forest. He knew the Blue Lakes were three days away where the old forest grew sparse and grassland took over. Good hunting and good for the wild honey that fetched a rare price at market. He wondered if that was where this trail was leading. It was a natural place to stage and camp if the urak were here in numbers.
After another fireless night in the forest huddled in his cloak, Darion was up with the birds the next day and back on the trail. The urak had not attempted to cover their tracks and were easy to follow. He made good time with Bindu taking the lead.
The Fossa was never far away and he often heard the rush and tumble of the river. Stopping at noon he lunched on jerky, nuts and berries and thought on his quarry.
The urak kept to the east of the river. They wouldn’t cross to the west bank, he was sure; that was ilfanum land and no one would knowingly cross into it. The ilf were secretive and fiercely protective. He’d been given a token once from an ilf friend of sorts, many years back. He wore it now on a neck thong, his fingers absently finding and rubbing it as he thought briefly of that time.
By mid-afternoon the freshness of the trail told him he was close and he slowed his pace, moving cautiously. Bindu appeared suddenly, tense and excited. He knew by her stance she’d found them. Kneeling he gave her a pat. “Good girl.”
The next hour Darion crept through the woods. He smelt smoke on the air
, growing stronger with every step. Under the forest canopy it was difficult to tell if there was a breeze or what direction it blew. He circled until the smell of wood smoke was strongest before stalking again through the undergrowth, Bindu at his heels. He gestured and the wolfdog disappeared into the bushes.
Darion heard them before he saw them, talking in guttural tones as he stole up on their camp.
A weak fire dribbled ribbons of smoke into the air. A urak sat near a bundle of rags heaped on the ground rubbing a leg as if pained. In the distance he heard the muted rumble of the river. It was from there two urak strode, talking loudly.
Apart from the dead urak these were the first he’d seen. Their heads were broad and flat with wide eyes over a large mouth and beneath a ridged, bony forehead. Despite his generalisation, Darion saw they were as different as one man might be from the next.
One was huge, a head taller than the other. Its pate shaved apart from two long braids lying across its chest and decorated with coloured strips of cloth.
Its fellow, in comparison, had a full head of hair, matted and teased into spikes. He was slim in comparison to the brute, but still of a size to match Darion. Their faces were animated as they argued.
“I say leave No-nose. He slows us down. Mar-Dur will likely skin us for being late,” the brute said. His voice rumbled as he spoke.
“I ain’t slowed you down none.” The sitting urak stood his voice thick and nasally. “You ain’t leavin me Gromma, else when I see Mar-Dur I be telling him why we is late. Not that he won’t see for hisself.”
“You little shitbag, keep yabbing your jowls and I’ll end you here,” Gromma said, hulking over No-Nose.
“We was only meant to scout!”
Gromma exploded, smashing forehead to face. No-Nose fell howling, clutching his head, dark blood leaking over his hands.
“Sicka you’re whining,” Gromma spat.