The Hunter

by Rose Estes

  “Good sir, master healer, is there anything…”

  Tarn held up a wrinkled hand to silence Otius, the flesh mottled with age and thin as a butterfly’s wing, his eyes still fixed on Braldt. He beckoned him with a single crooked finger. Braldt, with Beast at his heels, walked forward.

  The old man looked down then and smiled at the lupebeast pup, chucking it under the chin and earning himself a guttural rumble of pleasure as Beast curled himself into a ball on top of the old man’s feet. Braldt was astounded for the pup had never granted him such liberties.

  “You have no wish to become High Chief.” It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

  “No, old father, I have no wish to be anything other than what I am,” Braldt replied honestly. Behind him, he heard Carn snort in disbelief.

  “There is a chance that Auslic’s life can be saved, spared from that dark river that will take him to the Great Moon Mother and his eternal rest. But it is only a chance at best and will require much courage.”

  Braldt stared at the old man, wondering at his words. Wondering if it were really true. If the old one could truly save Auslic, why was he wasting time talking when he could be working his magic?

  His confusion must have been apparent for Tarn smiled again, the sadness openly visible for all to read. “No magic spells will work this wonder, my young friend, for that which ails Auslic is a failure of the body and not the spirit and cannot be cured by words alone. It is a thing that is required, a rare and precious object that will be most difficult to obtain.”

  “Tell me where I may find this thing and I will bring it to you,” Braldt replied without hesitation.

  Tarn smiled sadly and shook his head as though he had never doubted Braldt’s response. “And you, Carn, are you willing as well?”

  Carn pushed past Braldt, jostling him with his shoulder and placing himself directly in front of Tarn. “Of course, old one. Is Auslic not of my blood?” Turning, Carn smiled at Braldt, a smile that held no warmth but only the promise of hard times to come. “Braldt and I will do this thing together, whatever it may be.”

  Tarn appeared to take no notice of the unspoken hostility that hung thick in the air, although Braldt thought it unlikely that it had gone unnoticed.

  “I too will go.” Otius joined Braldt and Carn, his hand closed upon the hilt of his sword that had not been drawn for anything other than ceremonial purposes since Carn’s own youth.

  The priest raised his gloved hand and placed it flat upon his chest, directly atop the large metal emblem of the Moon Mother fixed in the center of his chest. A moment of silence followed this gesture. Then the priest raised his hand and made a cutting, dismissive sign and Otius fell back a step, his face pale and drawn.

  “This is a journey for young men, my friend,” Tarn said kindly, softening the priest’s harsh gesture with his words. “You are needed here beside your brother to lend him your strength and the desire to live. The journey is dangerous and the way fraught with unusual peril, but the object we seek is the only chance we have to save your brother’s life, else wise I would not even consider it.”

  “I am not afraid, old man. Tell me what it is that you wish and I will do it. Nor do I need another to dog my steps. I will travel faster and return more swiftly if I am alone,” Carn said boldly, ignoring Braldt as though he did not exist.

  “This is no competition, Carn. The dangers are real enough and no single person could hope to accomplish the deed on his own. If you are to go at all, you will do as I say and swear upon the honor of your House that you will obey me!”

  Never had Tarn spoken so sharply, with such authority, and Braldt as well as Carn hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding their assent.

  “Sit then,” Tarn said in a tired voice, looking to Jos for another cup of broth, “for the tale is long and not quickly told.

  “As you know from your teachings, our world was born of the moon and is composed primarily of red stone, sandstone, and hardrock. Here and there if we are lucky, we find deposits of rose and white and gold crystal that many of us wear in honor of the Mother Moon who birthed us.

  “She gave us this fertile land to feed and nurture us and gave us the gods and the priests who decipher their will so that we might know how to live and give her honor.”

  The old man paused for a moment to sip at his cup of broth and Braldt thought of the hundred and one gods whose rules governed their existence. There was a god for everything one did. There was a god of the earth who governed the times of sowing and reaping. A god of war who decreed when the tribe’s boundaries had been violated and a war party should be sent to avenge the incursion. There was even a god of love whose approval was required before unions could be blessed. And it was the priests alone who deciphered the gods’ wishes, the people had little or no voice in their own destiny. Dissension, what little there was, was most often stifled, for the priests dealt harshly with those who opposed them.

  “She has blessed us in many ways,” continued Tarn, “and in return requires only that we obey her. Without her love and guidance, we would be no more than the karks, lowly animals in form and deed. Of all the world, we are the most blessed, and everything beyond our borders must live without that same blessing. I know that young blood runs hot and impatient and sometimes chafes beneath the constraints of rules they cannot understand, but you must realize that without rules, this clan, this city, this world, could not exist. Beyond our boundaries is a world without rules, a world that is not governed by Mother Moon’s love.”

  “We know all of that,” Carn said impatiently. “What has that to do with us?”

  Tarn smiled up at Carn, a smile meant more for himself than Carn. “Everything, my impatient young friend, for it is beyond our borders that this quest will take you.”

  Carn started visibly and then stared at the old man to see if perhaps he was joking or playing him for a fool, for few men were allowed to venture beyond the Guardian Stones. To do so without permission was to die, struck down by a thunderbolt out of the sky, the gods’ messenger of death.

  Braldt said nothing and wondered what it was that they would be seeking. Although he himself had been given permission to venture beyond the stones, he had done so rarely and then only in pursuit of raiding karks or predators. His pulse quickened at the thought of traveling within the Forbidden Lands and he cast his thoughts over that barren ground, the empty desert and the sere mountainous regions that lay beyond.

  “That which you seek lies two score dawnings to the east.” Braldt’s head came up sharply, his eyes searching and holding those of Tarn’s, stunned and yet wanting to hope, to believe the truth of the old man’s words. A single sharp intake of breath from Carn as well as a brief choked cry from Jos told him that the others shared his disbelief, for no man, not even Braldt, was allowed to enter those Forbidden Lands that was the home of the gods and certain death to mere mortals.

  Tarn met Braldt’s silent inquiry with a level gaze.

  “Why… why do the gods wish such a thing?” Jos asked tearfully as Otius patted her on the back and held her close, attempting to calm her. “Is it not enough that the gods are taking Auslic from us, must they have my sons as well?”

  “Dry your tears, Mother, the gods do not ask for us so that they may place us on the Great River, they have a need for us and require our services. We will do this thing and save uncle’s life, and when we return, you may boast that your son is favored by the gods!”

  But Jos was not comforted by Carn’s bold words and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder and sobbed.

  Braldt reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently, then turned again to the old man.

  “We have the gods’ permission to enter the Forbidden Lands?” he asked.

  The old man nodded.

  “What is this thing we seek and how will we find it?”

  The priest rose then and stood before Braldt and Carn, his flowing robes obliterating the old man like a storm cloud covers the sun. He ra
ised his hands before him and Braldt shivered, knowing what was to come. Stifling an impulse to glance at Carn, he lowered his head.

  The priest placed his hands atop Carn’s and Braldt’s bowed heads and silence, broken only by Jos’s muffled weeping, filled the room.

  A tingling came over Braldt with the first touch of the priest’s palm. It was not unpleasant, nor was there any pain, rather a sense of invasion as though something were searching through his mind like flipping the pages of a book. Although he had never experienced the priest’s touch, he had heard it described and was prepared, blanking out all thought, thinking of nothing, filling his mind with the image of the floor beneath his feet. He could not have explained why he did such a thing, nor had he spent any time contemplating such an action, for never had he imagined that it would be necessary.

  The sensation of probing ceased, withdrew, and was replaced by a vision. Braldt recognized the easternmost border of tribal lands, saw the immense stone that gazed implacably outward, keeping watch, holding the savages at bay. Then he was speeding over the land that was verdant and green, with lush grasses and immense ancient trees. Tiny streams and wide rushing rivers crisscrossed the land, nurturing the abundant plant life, animals grazing on the thick grasses, their numbers vast and untroubled by the thought of man. Predators, their flanks as sleek and well fed as their quarry, lounged beneath trees and sunned themselves on rocks, oblivious and without fear. Nowhere was there evidence of man. If this land was the home of the gods, they did not hunt or farm the land. Did gods eat? The irreverent thought popped into Braldt’s head unbidden, but he received no answer and the images continued to fill his mind.

  Crossing the broad savannah they entered the foothills of the mountains that were normally but a distant blue smear on the horizon. The river that fed the fertile valley frothed and swept through a narrow gorge carved out of rock, not the familiar red rock that formed the basis of the city, but the shining black rock from which the Council chamber and the Temple of the Moon were constructed.

  The vision continued, tracing the course of the river as it plunged down the mountain from the heights above. A brief glimpse showed the peaks of the mountains towering above them, capped with a blanket of whiteness.

  Braldt did his best to fix the images in his mind, picking out landmarks that he might recognize again when he and Carn were part of that same landscape. The voyage of the mind continued, ever upward, scaling sheer walls of rock over which the river plunged in foamy plumes of white, heights that no man but only gods could hope to ascend.

  Then the scene switched abruptly, showing another river course, this one empty and dry, although it was evident that water had recently filled its banks. This second course diverged from the first and rose in a southerly direction climbing the flank of the mountain and entered the mountain itself beneath a huge overhanging boulder. This boulder seemed to bear the entire weight of the mountain on its back.

  Braldt held his breath as his mind’s eye swept beneath the boulder, entering a darkness that was not shadow but the course of the riverbed, now empty and dry but for a narrow thread of water that trickled down the middle. Light appeared before them, magically illuminating the way, showing them the subterranean passage that the water had carved from the stone. And then abruptly, the passage ended in a fall of rock so dense that it sealed the course completely, allowing only the merest trickle of water to escape. Back and forth the image roamed, exploring the face of the rockfall, searching for a weak spot, and Braldt understood then what was wanted.

  Back they flew, back through the curving dark passage, back into blessed daylight, out from beneath the dark rock, back to the branch of the river that still flowed. Now they climbed again, higher and higher still to dizzying heights so that the land was small and insignificant below them, like a child’s toy until they came to a gaping hole in the very peak of the mountain from which the river arose, spewing forth under great pressure to begin its long descent to the land below. The vision explored this new mouth of the great river in infinite detail as though searching for a way to enter. But the river allowed no entrance, not even to the vision.

  The image dissolved and then re-formed to show another cavern, this one lit by priest fire that was contained in clear crystal orbs that hung from the black stone ceiling. It was obvious that the cavern had recently been inundated by water. But this was no mere cavern for it was filled with mysterious objects clearly illuminated by the steady glow of the priest fire. Objects that were unlike anything Braldt had ever seen. The vision skimmed over the wondrous contents of the room even though Braldt longed to examine them more closely. But even this brief glimpse was enough to see that great damage had been inflicted upon the place. It was in great disarray. Holes had been breached in smooth surfaces and objects torn from the walls, and the floor was strewn with water-soaked debris.

  The vision directed itself at the far end of the cavern where it was possible to see that the river had flowed at one time through a precisely carved channel. Water still eddied at the bottom of this channel, butting up against a landslide of black rock that filled the channel from its lowest point and rose to the roof above, solid and impenetrable. Finding no access, the water had found another exit, punching its way through a wall that had proved weaker than its relentless strength.

  Now he beheld a wall that bristled with strange objects and mysterious runes and a variety of blinking lights in all colors of the rainbow. It was confusing and painful to see, for Braldt understood nothing, recognized not a single item that had any reference to his life. The vision fixed on a single object, a handle of some sort, pressed flat against the wall. In his mind the handle seemed to raise of its own will until it was fixed in an upright position in a direction completely opposite the way it had been. The vision repeated itself twice again and then Braldt understood what was wanted. The handle was to be raised upright and he was to do it. The vision repeated itself a third time and a warm glow filled his mind and he knew that he had not been mistaken.

  Then the view moved to another wall, this one damaged more heavily, and focused on a square object, white in color with a crimson mark fixed in the exact center, two straight lines, one vertical, one horizontal, crossing in the center. The image fixed itself on the white box and remained there until it faded away.

  Braldt blinked and raised his head, looking straight at Attruk but seeing the image of the white box still, knowing that it was the object they would seek; the thing that would save Auslic’s life.

  6

  They left the following morning after being blessed by priests and cried over by Jos. Otius had laid his palm on their heads as well and then walked away, leaning on his walking stick more heavily than was his custom, with head bowed as though he had become an old man overnight.

  Before dawn Braldt had wakened, unable to sleep despite his extreme fatigue, and he had crept through the sleeping house and entered Auslic’s chambers, needing to feel his presence. Much to his surprise, Auslic lay with his head turned toward the door, awake and alert as though he had been awaiting Braldt’s arrival.

  Braldt hurried to the bed and knelt beside him. Although his face was still contorted and fixed, it was obvious that Auslic was far from the shores of the River of Death. He looked at Braldt and smiled fondly. “I knew you would come; you have never failed me yet.”

  “And never will I fail you, Father,” Braldt replied. “I must call Jos and your brother, they will rejoice to see you awake and well.”

  “No!” Auslic whispered harshly, seizing Braldt by the wrist and holding him firmly. “No one must know. I wish others to believe that the River of Death laps at my feet. I will not die this night but neither am I well. This is no great tragedy for I have lived far longer than other men and I will not argue when it is my turn to sail the Great River, but there is something to be done before I take my leave. Something I should have done many turnings ago had I but had the courage.” Auslic’s face was grave, the downward cast of his features le
nding his words a grim overtone.

  “Tell me what you wish done, Father, and I will do it for you,” said Braldt even as he wondered at the thought of Auslic lacking courage, for Auslic possessed more strength of character than anyone Braldt had ever known.

  “You are already doing it for me,” Auslic said as he shifted uncomfortably on his pallet, struggling into a seated position, “you are going into the Forbidden Lands with the priest’s blessing, something I myself was never able to accomplish.”

  “But why…”

  “There are too many questions and too few answers, Braldt. Ask me nothing for I have only my suspicions and if they are correct… Braldt, promise me that you will keep your eyes sharp when you enter these lands. Study things that seem strange and unusual. Do not be swayed by outward appearance, but search for the real meaning of what you see and, most importantly, keep an open mind, free of religion and superstition. Then, return and tell me and me alone of what you have discovered.”

  “But what am I looking for? What am I to discover? Tell me what I am to seek,” Braldt begged for Auslic’s words were unsettlingly vague.

  “You will know it when you find it,” replied Auslic, tiring visibly. “Now, there is another matter we must speak of, one I should have addressed long ago.” Fumbling within his robes, he brought his hand forth and held it toward Braldt, his eyes filled with pain.

  Braldt took the thing and studied it, seeing only a gold ring, unusual in that it was set with a clear red stone that had an intricate emblem fixed in the heart of its bloodred depths. Braldt had never seen such a ring before, and while it was extremely beautiful and unusual, it was only a ring. Why should a bit of jewelry cause Auslic such pain? Braldt held the ring up to the faint light that seeped into the room and saw delicate runes, identical to those in the Guardian Stones, circling the inner band.