The Hunter

by Rose Estes

  “It was your father’s ring. I myself took it from his hand. The woman, your mother, wore a similar ring, only smaller on her finger, but the priests seized it. They sought for this ring, suspecting that it existed, for its mark was deeply graved on your father’s finger, but they could not search me without creating an awkward situation. They watched me for a long time, but I hid the ring away and put all thought of it out of my mind, but I do not think that they have forgotten.”

  Braldt stared at Auslic, hearing his words, feeling them sink deep within his being as though they were being engraved upon his heart. “Why, Father, why do you tell me this now, after all these years? Why did you not speak of it sooner?” Braldt whispered.

  “Pure jealousy, I suppose,” Auslic said wearily. “In the beginning I told myself that you were too young, that you wouldn’t understand. After all, I myself did not understand. And what was there to say, really, only that two strangers appeared outside our boundaries and died in the desert.

  “I watched you grow from infant to toddler and always there was that look about you, courage and strength of character even at that young age, and I wished that you were my son. My own wife had died years before and I had no wish to take another. Against the priest’s wishes, I took you from the desert and gave you to Otius and Jos to raise and treated you as a nephew, no different from Carn or Keri, but in my heart, I thought of you as the son I never had.

  “Then, as you grew older and sought me out, seeming to desire my company rather than that of your young friends, I held back the ring again, telling myself that you were still too young.

  “I know myself well enough to admit that I was afraid that you would love that other man more, he who was your natural father, rather than I who had merely loved you. But now, now that the river finally approaches, I know that I cannot keep it from you any longer and can only hope that you will not hate me.”

  A thousand questions filled Braldt’s mind, thoughts that he had pondered on a thousand sleepless nights throughout his youth. Who had his parents been? Where had they come from? Why had they looked so different? Was there another tribe of people in the world? And if so, where were they and how could he find them. Endless questions to which there had never been any answers. Until now.

  But the pain and despair in Auslic’s eyes brought him back to the present. “No, Father,” he said gently. “I do not hate you. Another man may have sired me, but you are my father.”

  Auslic’s tortured features relaxed at Braldt’s words and he sank back on his pillows.

  “Do you think that my parents came from the east, from the Forbidden Lands?” Braldt asked.

  “I do not know. I do not think so. Be careful… son. I could not bear to lose you, and beware of the priests. I do not know what it is that they wish, but I am certain that they are permitting you this journey to fulfill some need of their own rather than concern for my health.”

  “Do not let the river take you, Father. I will do the priests’ bidding and bring back this thing that will help you as well. They have their secrets, and we will have our own.”

  And now he and Carn sped across the close-cropped rangeland searching the far horizon for the first glimpse of the Guardian Stones that flanked the boundaries of their land. A cold silence had descended between them as soon as they left the small gathering of priests and family members. Braldt could still see Keri’s drawn face, her eyes burning with anger and resentment at being left behind. For it was Keri who had always sought out the highest balustrade of the ring and stared off at the distant misty peaks, wondering, dreaming, imagining what the clouds concealed. It had always been her dream to journey beyond the stones, to be the first to unravel the mystery. And now others would go there in her stead.

  Braldt had offered her no apology or word of comfort for to have done so would have been an insult. Instead, he offered her Beast for the pup was too young to keep up and too much of a burden to carry. But Keri had barely glanced down at the pup and Beast had canceled all thoughts of leaving him, for he had bared his double rows of fangs and growled deep in his throat. This was no playful puppy sound, but one of sincere threat. He would allow no one to touch him, save Braldt, and would not even accept food from anyone else’s hand. Braldt began to realize how much of a responsibility he had taken on, but still, he did not regret sparing the pup’s life. There was something special about this one.

  The day passed rapidly as Braldt and Carn wordlessly challenged each other by stepping up the pace, defying the other to fall behind. Both men were outfitted in a similar manner, blue robes draped over their chests and caught at the right shoulder by silver insignia rings, loincloths, and short swords and daggers. Each carried a leather pouch slung from their shoulder that contained stout leather shoes that came to just below the knee, warm breeches and a shirt should the weather turn foul, and leather hand gear. Jos had added dried meats and fruits despite their protests that the land would supply their needs, and Otius had added coils of ropes as well as words of advice. Jos had added a vial of healing unguent while praying that none would be needed.

  The packs weighed them down but little and Carn being lighter and swift of foot might have taken the lead had Braldt not driven himself harder in order to keep level. As he had forseen, Beast had tired quickly and it had been necessary to place him inside the pouch where he settled contentedly, chewing on a stick of dried meat.

  The Guardian Stone came into sight by late afternoon as their shadows stretched out before them, elongated to twice their normal size. A friend named Caltan, whom they had grown up with and attended school with until separated by the priests, hailed them, calling out their names from atop a craggy outcrop that broke through the red skin of the earth. It would have been rudeness itself to have ignored his greeting and Braldt stopped gladly, feeling the ache deep in his muscles and the steady burning in his chest, knowing that such a pace was foolishness, yet unwilling to protest and give Carn the satisfaction. He knew that Carn would be feeling the same aches and would also accept the interruption gladly.

  They stretched out beside the fire that Caftan kept going in the lee of the outcrop and told him of their mission as he listened in wide-eyed wonder. Caltan had busied himself by placing strips of meat to grill before the fire and handed them a gourd of warmed, fermented milk, both staples of his diet and provided by the grazing herds whom he was charged to watch.

  “Are you not afraid?” Caltan asked, repositioning a skewer of meat that sputtered and sizzled as a bit of fat caught fire. “There are merebears and omnicats aplenty and lupebeasts too. I know they are there for they creep forth at night and raid the herd. The Guardian does not stop them at all.”

  “Beasts are beasts,” Carn said with a shrug. “One kills them, that is what spears and swords are for.”

  He pointedly ignored Beast as he said this although Beast was sitting between Braldt’s feet and turned his face from one to the other as they spoke. Braldt said nothing.

  “But are you not afraid of the karks?” asked Caltan. “They are becoming bolder all the time and show themselves to me even in the daytime. They even killed a spankow two dawnings past, a shebeast who would have birthed soon. They skinned her and left only the hooves and horns in a pile to show me what they had done. They are not afraid of me for they know that I cannot leave the herd to chase them down. And what good would I do, one against so many. They would kill me as well.”

  Carn and Braldt exchanged glances. This was unexpected news. Karks rarely ventured across the border and seldom killed from the herds. “Why have you not sent word to the city?” demanded Carn.

  “I have done so many times!” Caltan exclaimed angrily. “The priests know what is happening here and I am not the only one. It is happening to all the others as well!”

  “Are you sure of this?” Carn asked.

  “Do you take me for a fool?” Caltan asked quietly. “I know a kark when I see one and they take little care to hide themselves from us. They strut back and for
th just out of spear range taunting us with their presence, hoping that we will be foolish enough to chase after them. Genn was killed four moonsets ago. I found what was left of him threaded on a sharpened pole like this bit of meat here and hung out over a fire. His skin was black and charred and his face had been mutilated, but I knew it was Genn.”

  Shocked silence followed his words for while the kark were definitely viewed as an enemy to be killed on sight as they would any beast of prey, no one expected them to fight back. It was as though a mere cat had learned to talk. It was unnatural! Caltan had said that the priests knew of the karks’ strange behavior and yet there had been no mention of this when they were being briefed; Attruk had given them no hint. Yet why would he keep it a secret? What purpose would it serve, save getting them killed? Carn and Braldt exchanged uneasy glances.

  “And then there is the matter of the God Lights. How do you explain that? In the city the lights are not so bright as they are out here on the plains. Here you can see Mother Moon and the stars clearly, like they are within reach of your hand. The God Lights have always burned brightly over the Spirit Mountains, jumping and crackling about the night sky like the flames of a glorious godly flame, blue and green and silver and crimson. But the God Lights are gone now. We have not seen them for more than two turnings. We have asked the priests for an explanation, but we get no answers. What are they saying in the city?”

  “They say it is but a phase that will pass,” Carn replied, tossing another dried pankow chip onto the fire. The three old friends stared into the fire, each thinking his own thoughts, knowing that the God Lights had never vanished within living memory, daring to wonder what it might mean.

  The evening passed swiftly and pleasantly as the old friends reminisced about deeds and misdeeds of their childhood, before Caltan donned the brown robes and Carn and Braldt the blue and went their separate ways. As the night lengthened and Mother Moon rose from her bed below the horizon to shed her cool beneficence upon them, they sang her blessings. The crisp night air was filled with a rude cacophony of sounds as a vulgar imitation of the blessed prayer came back to them, accompanied by jeers, blatting noises, and rude taunts.

  Beast immediately responded by throwing back his head and loosing a full-fledged howl, his first, an indication of how swiftly he was growing. This broke the eerie pall thrown over them by the karks, and as Caltan admired Beast, Braldt told of the adventure that had resulted in his presence.

  As the moon rose higher and higher in the night sky, Caftan grew restless, rising often to climb to the top of the stone that sheltered them and search the dark plains.

  “I do not understand it, Jehan, you remember him, Jehan the Quiet, he was two turnings behind us at school? He is my way mate. He should have been here long ago. It is my turn to stand outwatch.”

  “Perhaps a shebeast is birthing,” suggested Carn.

  “Perhaps,” agreed Caltan but his expression was troubled, and as they settled themselves for the night, drawing close to the fire for its warmth, he climbed atop the outcrop and, gripping his spear tightly, peered out across the darkened plain.

  They took their leave of Caftan before the sun had risen, accepting a gourd of fermented milk and a bundle of smoked meat strips to lend them strength. Caftan’s eyes were tired and rimmed with red and lines of worry for his waymate, Jehan, had not appeared.

  “Look for him along the way and tell him to bring his lazy bones into camp,” Caltan joked as they gripped hands in the old secret elaborate style they had invented in school and then, more seriously, flashed the sign of blessing of Mother Moon—thumb and forefinger joined and drawn in a circle above the heart and then drawn out, a way of saying, “May the blessings of the Mother and those of my heart go with you through all your days.”

  They took their leave then, pacing away swiftly, feeling the cool morning air flow smoothly across their skin, their legs already dampened by the beads of moisture that clung to the grass, moisture that would soon be burned away by the heat of the rising sun.

  They made swift progress during the morning hours for the land was smooth and flat, dotted with low-growing shrubs, tufts of tough lanky grass, and the wandering herds of grazing pankows who fed upon them. The animals showed little or no fear of them, drifting apart to permit them to pass among them, their long, twisted horns rattling against one another. Beast began to bark at them and at the first shrill sound, the shaggy beasts bunched together, horns pointing outward, vertical slitted eyes narrowing as they squinted toward the threat with evil thoughts churning in their golden eyes. Slitted hooves pawed the red earth and the pankows tossed their heads and readied themselves for combat.

  Braldt scooped up the pup whose body was stiff with excitement and clamped his hand around its muzzle, stifling the sounds while he and Carn removed themselves from the area as swiftly as possible. While pankows were normally docile and certainly none too bright, they could be roused to a murderous level of rage if the herd contained gravid shebeasts or numerous young as did this herd. Their sharp horns and hooves could inflict painful wounds were one stupid enough to be caught unawares.

  “Best keep that one muzzled or leave it behind before it gets us killed,” Carn said sharply, and there was little that Braldt could say in return for Carn was right. He placed the pup back inside the sling of his robes with a length of smoked meat to keep it busy and the remainder of the morning passed without incident.

  As the sun reached its peak in the clear sky, they drew near a thread of smoke that hung in the air, drawing them like a beacon. It had been visible for some time now and although they had not discussed it, there was never any doubt that they would search out the cause. Fire, any fire loose on the plains, could be disastrous at this time of year for the grass and the land itself was dry, waiting the heavy rains of cold time. Fire could sweep across the land as swiftly as a cloud passes over the sun, destroying all life in its path. The pankow, stupid at best, lost all sense of reason during fires and more often than not rushed directly into the flames even after they had been rescued.

  The slender line of smoke, pale and thin against the cold sky, grew darker as they drew close and seemed to have its origins in a narrow gully that snaked its way across the plain.

  Braldt glanced at Carn and both men gripped their spears and hefted them to their shoulders in a throwing position. Swords filled their other hand. They crept forward, approaching the defile on silent feet for there was a feeling of wrongness about the place. A feeling of watchfulness hung over them as though enemy eyes were upon their backs. But the plain stretched away emptily on all sides and there was no place for anyone to hide unseen.

  They smelled it before they found the body. The sickly sweet smell of roasted flesh filled the narrow confines of the ravine and Beast’s ears flattened against his skull as a throaty growl emanated from his exposed fangs. Braldt curled his hand around the pup’s muzzle and squeezed gently. The pup ceased his noise but demanded to be put down and stalked forward on stiflF legs, fur rising along the ridge of his back in stiflF clumps.

  Braldt and Carn shared the pup’s alarm, despite the fact that they had no ridges of fur to raise, and they advanced with extreme caution, their senses telling them that danger lurked close by.

  There was another smell, underlying that of roasted flesh, a scent of salty sweat, blood, and something else, closely akin to the rancid, unwashed smell of men in the barracks after a long day’s work in the ring.

  There were footprints now, deeply trodden in the damp earth for a small trickle of water flowed down the center of the defile. Humanlike prints were mixed in with those of the pankows who, based upon the numerous trails and number of their clover hoofprints, obviously watered here often. The humanlike prints were another matter completely. Beast snuffled over one, his lips pulled back from his teeth, his mouth slightly agape in a comical expression of distaste, but neither Carn nor Braldt were laughing. Beast trod around the print on stiff legs, then sunk to a low slouch, belly nearly t
ouching the ground, and crept forward sniffing the air carefully at every step.

  Braldt and Carn did the same, sidestepping the broad footprint with the widely splayed big toe, twice as thick and twice as long as the next six digits. Karks. There was no way of misreading the distinctive prints.

  The scent was stronger now, had become a gagging stench, and Beast, rounding a bend in the streambed, let loose with a chorus of shrill, hysterical yips. All hope of silent surprise gone, Carn and Braldt rushed forward, ready to hurl their spears. The sight that confronted them was so unexpected, so hideous, that Carn bent over double and retched, heaving up the contents of his stomach.

  It was a man, or what was left of one. Braldt guessed that it was all that remained of Caltan’s missing waymate, Jehan.

  The body had been fastened to a boulder with long fibrous roots and twists of a crudely made rope. Primitive at best but more than adequate for the job. The fractured ends of bones poked through the charred flesh between ankle and knee, at midthigh, and in several places along the lower arms. The corpse’s eyelids had been cut away as had his ears and nose, and his mouth was but a lipless, gaping hole. The body had been mutilated and punctured in numerous places and the genitalia severed completely. And the heart had been cut out of the body.

  It was obvious to both of them that the torturous mutilation had taken place before death. It had been burned after death for the body was still held in place by the fibrous ropes, holding it in place over the embers that still smoldered, spewing the black smoke into the air like a beacon, summoning them to the grisly scene.

  The thought came to them at the same time and they sprung apart, swords and spears at the ready, looking at the banks above them and to either side, wondering if they had walked into a trap. But there was nothing to be seen or heard, other than Beast’s low keening that seemed entirely appropriate.

  A search of the area proved that they were alone, the karks had gone. There seemed no doubt that the karks were responsible, for their footprints were everywhere and they had made no effort to conceal their presence.