Of Wind and Waves - Chronicles of the First Age, Book One

by Nathan Quiring

  “Right. We’re going to hunt them down tomorrow.”

  She looked up, wide green eyes displaying a mixture of fear and awe. “Really? They make me so scared I can’t sleep. They howl all night sometimes. Aren't you scared to go after ‘em? Even father is too afraid to do that!”

  “Sure, I get scared sometimes, but I never let my feelings control me.” Even as he said it he cringed, remembering his outburst. It was true most of the time… “Anyway, we’ve killed wolves before,” he finished, not quite as confident as before.

  She finished the vambrace a short while later, but instead of grabbing another piece of leather she picked up his discarded shirt. “Ooooh, this is real soft, what’s it made of?”

  “Uh,” he stuttered again, “just wool, like yours,” he had never been good at lying.

  “Nuh uh, no way, you got this in a shell, didn’t ya? You told Carl you were joking, but you weren’t, were ya?” She turned her wide eyes on him, gripping the cloth tightly in her slender hands. “Tell me about ‘em, please? Everyone says they’re haunted, but I don’t think any of them have even seen one before.”

  Leif was about to deflect the rapid questions with some half formed generality when the door opened again, this time much more violently.

  “Mandy! Quit annoying mister Leif and get yourself back in the kitchen right now!”

  Mandy must have jumped just as much as Leif did as she was already on her feet and moving. “Yes mother…” she mumbled as she hurried out, eyes on the floor. Leif was surprised to hear the same musical quality to the older woman’s voice when she turned her fierce glare on him for half a moment, wiping the thought from his mind before exiting and slamming the door.

  The sun had nearly set when Cal returned to the tavern, the few clouds turning the sky deep shades of red and purple. Over the last hour Leif had made his way through two mugs of weak honey wine and a few conversations with Mandy while she tended the bar, before they were silenced by her mother's return from the kitchen or serving food. The tavern was about three quarters full when Mandy passed Cal a small cup of darker liquor, moving quickly on to a few more recent arrivals.

  “Big pack,” Cal grumbled under his breath, “somewhere to the northeast. Prints are more common in that direction.” He tossed back his drink and Mandy hurried over to refill it.

  “Are they going to give back our weapons?” Leif asked.

  “Didn’t ask. Idiots if they don’t. Got a rough location for Spokane too, but we should leave tomorrow, folk are too jumpy about the shells.”

  “Ya, I noticed that.” Leif said, quickly regretting it when his father looked up sharply.

  “What did you do?”

  Leif let his sudden worry pass, no point fretting over things already done. “I mentioned that we had visited a few of them, but I turned it into a joke when I saw the man’s reaction. Oh, and the bar girl was pestering me about our clothing, I didn’t tell her anything though.”

  Cal looked pensive, then shrugged slightly, tossing back another cup full. “It could be worse. Need to take care of business and leave without bringing them up again, and you should avoid-”

  Something had interrupted his father, causing him to look down on his other side. Leif looked around, leaning away from the bar, and saw a young boy tugging at his father’s leather coat.

  “-any good stories? S‘cuse me mister, it's story time, do ya-” Cal’s glare stopped the boy in mid sentence and caused him to jump back a bit, but it appeared that he had been repeating himself for long enough that others had already turned from their meals to watch.

  Knowing his father would hardly oblige and not wanting to irritate the townspeople any further, Leif tried quickly to think of an appropriate story.

  “I got one for ya,” he started, turning on his stool to face the boy, his face brightening immediately. “Ever heard of the great desert wastes to the south?”

  He shook his head vigorously, sitting down cross-legged on the wood floor. As Leif began a few more children joined him, slowly emerging from the crowded tables.

  “From the Atlantic far to the East to the Pacific, there lies a vast wasteland,” Leif halted, a tiny girl had raised her hand.

  “What’s the ‘lantic?” she asked in a small squeak.

  “It’s another ocean, just like the one just over there,” he answered, pointing to the West. “This wasteland,” he continued, “is an ocean of sand, burning hot with not a drop of water to be had. Do you know what sand is?”

  They all shook their heads no, eyes wide.

  “It’s like tiny rocks,” he said, holding thumb and finger close together, “mounds and mounds of them.”

  They drew a collective breath, one of the larger boys giving a hushed “Wow”.

  “In this desert live massive beasts, sorta like beetles, but huge and vicious. One day I awoke to find one of these monsters not ten feet away.” They let out another round of gasps, even the adults begun to lean forward. “I jumped to my feet and grabbed my staff…”

  The whole gripping tale was complete fiction, he and Cal knew far better than to venture into the wastes, and who knew what actually lived there, but it was a good story and he had fun telling it. He made it last long enough to satisfy his young audience and afterward they bugged another story out of someone else, allowing him to finish his conversation with his father.

  “Where’d that come from,” Cal grunted, a rough smirk twisting his usually stoic features.

  “Who knows, good though, right?”

  “Complete crap, but it worked. Should hit the sack soon, have to return after and get our things.”

  “That’s how they’ll make sure we do the job?”

  Cal grunted an affirmative.

  Leif got up to find Mandy, maybe he would get that bath after all.

  Dead leaves rustled in a light breeze, bird song announcing the coming sunrise as Leif neared the end of his dance. The solitary quiet of the forest beyond the village was a mirror of his mind, peaceful and at rest. Sweat dripped from his brow and down his bare chest, undoing some of the work his soapy scrub had accomplished the night before.

  “Wow, that’s beautiful!”

  Leif jumped, all peace gone in a heartbeat. It was Mandy. How had she surprised him again? For that matter, how had she found him?

  “Wha-” he began, but was interrupted before he could start stuttering.

  “You really do have some sexy muscles!” She said, laughing. She had caught him shirtless again. Great…

  “Um, I-” He couldn’t think what to say, his mind preoccupied on finding his shirt. There it was, behind her.

  “Ya know, if you’re goina talk you should at least say something I can understand. ‘Course, with muscles like those, who needs talking?”

  As his face turned an even deeper shade of red, he noticed what she was wearing; next to nothing, and she was coming closer.

  “Wait, what are you-”

  “Oh, now ya wanna talk?” She said, giggling. “Too late for that!” She was very close now, why couldn’t he move? She wrapped her arms around him and he melted into the kiss, completely helpless.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Leif jumped at the man’s yell, almost tripping over his own feet to get away from Mandy. “Get your damn hands off my daughter! Mandy! Come here now!” This was not good. The large man who must have been the sheriff was still shouting obscenities as he stomped toward Leif, brandishing a menacing club, when Cal appeared.

  “Stop!” The command was a blast of sound, halting the raging man cold. When he realized who had shouted, he sneered.

  “And who the hell do ya think you are, telling me what to do in my own town! I’ll string you both up you arrogant-”

  “You will return our things and we will leave.” Cal interrupted, slowly and deliberately, even more growl than usual in his voice.

  By this time Mandy had withdrawn behind her father, wide eyed. Cal grabbed Leif’s shirt and threw it to him without liftin
g his glare from the sheriff, whose anger, though still twisting his face, was not sufficient to withstand it.

  “Alright, you two come back to town and we’ll see.” He said, his sneer returning and mixing with the anger as he tried to hold his composure long enough to turn away. They marched the five minutes back to town in near silence. Leif started trying to explain to his father but Cal shook his head, glare still burning.

  When they arrived, the whole place was awake and getting ready for the day, but everyone gathered when they saw their sheriff in such a fury, accompanied by the outsiders.

  “What’s all this fuss Mel?” The woman from the tavern was bustling toward them, her expression quickly changing from annoyed to furious. “Mandy! Where are your clothes? Get inside now!”

  “Not yet,” her husband replied, stopping his daughter with a hand, “there’s a matter to take care of-”

  “Yes,” Cal interrupted in the same deliberate growl as before, “we need our things and we will leave, we owe you nothing after the way you threatened us.”

  Mel spluttered. “But he- I threatened- how dare- nonsense! Your son attacked my daughter!”

  “That isn’t true.” Cal said, each word ringing with scorn. The rest of the villagers, finally learning enough to respond to the situation, began scowling, not at Mel, but at the two outsiders.

  “I’m the sheriff and I say it’s true, and we’re going to have ourselves some justice!”

  Leif tried to grab Mandy’s attention, but her head was in her hands, the very image of shame and embarrassment. If only she could explain, but no.

  “Why should we trust them?” Leif recognized the guard from the tavern. “I heard them say they been in the shells, maybe they’re really raiders, trying to catch us with our pants down, rob us blind and rape our women!”

  “Ya,” another shouted, “I’ve seen the old one asking around if anyone knew where Spokane was, as if they were going there.”

  The situation was deteriorating quickly, the village turning into a mob, angry faces surrounding them and slowly trapping them.

  “Just return our things and we will leave.” Cal tried again.

  “I think we’ll keep your things, and you’ll be leaving when we say so.”

  Cal shrugged, then stepped forward and grabbed the sheriff by his neck and wrist, simultaneously choking him and bringing him to his knees, then planting his face in the dirt. It happened so quickly and fluidly that no one even reacted until after Cal began speaking again.

  “Return our things or I’ll break his neck.”

  Mandy’s horrified, tear streaked face looked at Cal, then at Leif, then she ran into the Tavern. Two guards ran at Cal, each holding one of Cal’s blades. Leif stepped between them and his father and dropped into the beginning motion of the Kata. His foot shot out in a sharp kick knocking the first to the ground and then, after avoiding a clumsy slash from the second man, jabbed one fist, then the other into the his stomach. The first man had regained his footing while the other crumpled, wheezing. He rushed Leif, stolen blade swinging in erratic arcs as another dirty guard wielding Leif’s own staff joined the melee. Leif dodged easily and slapped the blade out of the first man’s hand; Leif’s other hand connecting with the man’s throat in a sickening crunch. The third combatant made a wide, almost laughable swing with the long staff, allowing Leif to get inside and knock him out with a flying knee to the jaw, easily catching his weapon as he fell, just in time to counter blows from two more guards. He quickly dispatched the two newcomers and no one else seemed inclined to receive the same treatment, so Leif stepped over to his father, who hadn’t moved, and took a defensive stance.

  “I really should break his neck after that.” Cal said, a wicked smile touching the corners of his mouth. He seemed about to continue when Mandy reemerged from the Tavern and threw their bags toward them, quickly turning to run back inside but stopped cold at a sudden snapping sound.

  Cal stood, retrieved his weapons and pack and walked out, leaving everyone to gape at the slumped form he left behind. Leif followed quickly, knowing it had been the most likely outcome, but still somewhat shocked himself, partially at the look on Mandy’s face and partly at his own reaction. Hours went by but the scene never left his mind.

  The sun burned across the sky, shafts of white heat breaking through the foliage above and the wind refused to give relief. The yellow orb was approaching noon when Leif quenched his thirst from a leather canteen, recently refilled when they had crossed a gloriously cool river. His clothes were near soaking with sweat, it seemed even worse in the forest then out on the arid plains, perhaps it was just the lack of wind.

  “Father,” Leif said tentatively when he could no longer ignore his anxiety.

  Cal looked back for a heartbeat, raising his eyebrows in a question, never stopping his loping jog.

  “Was that my fault?”

  He actually laughed, a loud, sharp blast of amusement. “I don’t really care. It’s done. Just don’t go yelling about the shells again.”

  His father didn’t seem to understand. He had hurt people and scared Mandy. He hadn’t started it, he hadn’t even killed anyone, but he still felt responsible for how it had ended, maybe if he had-

  Cal stopped suddenly, jerking Leif back to the present.

  “You hear that?” He asked.

  Leif listened, nothing. Then he heard it. Howling.

  “Wolves.”

  Alec

  The air at the pinnacle was pure, clean and crisp. He sat in the snow, hand buried in the fur between Grey’s shoulder blades, and drank in the view.

  “Well bud, I guess it’s time to leave”

  There was little to hunt near the top, only the occasional mountain goat or birds nest, but it was another mountain to climb and he conquered every peak he found. The sun was at its apex so if he didn’t begin the descent soon he would still be trudging through snow when it set. Alec pulled the forearm length strip of metal he used as a knife, one of many, from the dirt and stood, Grey rising gracefully to his paws at the same time and stretching in that way unique to every cat.

  Though his coat was a light tan, the color of dead grass, Alec thought of him as Grey, mainly for his wide, intelligent grey eyes, but also for the way he stalked through the mists so common in the forest below. Alec had found him as a cub, alone in a small cave halfway up a mountain and in the four years since then they had become brothers.

  Alec drew his heavy bearskin cloak tight against the sudden gust that kicked up a dusting of powder. The warmth he had built up in scaling the height had worn off and thick clouds now hid the sun. He let the cloak billow out as he leapt down, a simple leather vest exposing bulging muscles and a large collection of scars. His bare feet crunched on the snow covered rock eight feet below his previous perch. In the many years since his parents died he had learned that only the hard things survived; the strongest of animals, the toughest of plants, the most unyielding of rocks. So he made himself hard, he made himself a rock. The soles of his feet were so calloused as to almost be mistaken for rocks themselves; he only felt the outline of the ground beneath them, enough to carefully and skillfully scale a mountain without feeling the cold or being cut by jagged stones. He continued his descent, sliding down a snow bank then leaping off the end, landing in a crouch six feet further down, Grey right beside him.

  The wind rustled the gathering forest in waves as Alec bounded down the mountainside, loose hair flying out behind him in a three foot tail of bright red. Though he kept his quickly thickening beard trimmed short, his hair he let grow, enjoying the feel of the wind through his long mane. The bottom quickly approached as the sun dipped near the tree line. This was new territory to Alec because, as always, he had taken a different way down from the one he used to ascend.

  They followed a stream the last bit of the descent, bathing and catching a few fish. The ground had leveled out by then with trees in a myriad of colors dominating the landscape as dusk faded to twilight. The raw fish had sa
ted their hunger but after such an exertion Alec knew he would need more, it was one of the many risks in climbing to the top.

  His eyes became accustomed to the night as they moved through the bushes, slowly and silently then, Alec with his knives in hand and Grey ready to pounce. They wouldn’t go after anything big, but a few rabbits or maybe a fox would suffice. It was strange how much he could see in the blackness. He felt sure his night vision hadn’t been anywhere near this defined a year ago. Movement to the left. They both stopped. Again, a slight crunch of dead leaves and something else, a tail maybe. It darted out and Alec threw, it yelped but didn’t stop. Whatever it was, probably a fox by its size, disappeared behind a large bush before Alec could throw again. Just then Gray pounced, another yelp and another crunch, but this time of bones. Then Grey smoothly emerged from the underbrush and dropped the limp body of the fox at Alec’s feet.

  The signs were obvious. Nothing caused so much damage in the forest as a group of humans and, from what Alec could see, they had been there many years. The first real path appeared early that afternoon; a stretch of beaten dirt where bushes and grass had been cleared away by long use. They moved carefully in the foliage alongside the path toward the Northeast until it ended near a small lake. A large brook split into numerous trickles before losing itself on the side of the lake nearest the mountains, the bank showing where it would swell in the spring months. The small stream burbling away to the northwest would rise as well, becoming a strong river in a few months time. The lake was slightly stagnant after the long summer and almost mirror smooth, reflecting the blue sky where the water wasn’t covered by lilies or dead leaves. Alec’s sudden appearance had startled a few ducks who took off into the air, quacking their outrage; Grey eyed them the whole way.

  Grey loved to hunt almost any prey, but fish were rare unless he could nab them from dry footing. Alec couldn’t even remember the cat entering the water, so he did instead. He left the cloak on the bank, waded slowly out till the water was up to his waist and waited, allowing the swirling cloud of dirt to settle. He stood there for nearly fifty slow breaths, knees bent and hands spread wide, inches from the still water, before he felt the first nibble. Then he heard something behind him and saw Grey vanish into the trees; someone was coming up the path, or rather, a group of someones. It would take too long for the ripples to calm if he either exited the lake or submerged himself, so instead he remained still, the fish continuing to gathering round his legs.