Forest of Demons

by Debbie Cassidy

  Bojan glared at Fen over his shoulder. “I didn’t break her, she was already broken.”

  “Or maybe your ugly mug drove her insane?” Fen said.

  Bojan’s high cheeks flushed red.

  Earl cleared his throat, his laughter dying. He shot Fen a pointed look.

  Fen frowned, looking confused.

  Aryan sighed. Fen could be deliberately dense when he wished. Bojan was pleasant-natured most of the time, but nothing riled him more than the reminder that his life-mate had proven to be imperfect. Aryan knew that he blamed himself for the unsuccessful union. Fen, however, was born without a sensitive bone in his body, and no filter for his mouth.

  “A virgin cock shouldn’t speak of things he doesn’t understand,” Aryan said.

  “Crud, Chief, that’s just plain mean,” Fen pouted.

  Earl and Cadoc laughed. After a moment Bojan joined in.

  They continued in silence for a while, Aryan’s mind firmly on the hunt. He was trained in all weaponry, but swords or guns were of little use on a hunt. Spear and bows worked best. The east was a blotchy landscape of green and white plains. The herd would be easy to spot in such open landscape; the problem would be sneaking up on it.

  “They post the new rotation in a few days,” Bojan said.

  “You think we’ll make the cut?” Fen asked.

  “I don’t know,” Aryan said.

  Fen perked up, his young face filled with eagerness. “I get my feet on that discovery ship, and I’m not coming back without a beauty. I bet I could find a beauty to rival even yours, Chief.”

  Aryan smiled. “Best of luck with that.”

  The warriors chuckled.

  Aryan’s chest swelled with pride. Mia was indeed an exotic find. With soot-dark hair, copper skin, and large, gray eyes, she was startling to behold. He had been honored when the Enforcer had gifted her to him upon his promotion to chief. Borean-born women were scarce, and without the discovery ships’ occasional shipments of beauties, they would struggle to procreate. Coloring didn’t matter as long as they were fertile, for Borean seed was strong, and Borean characteristics always prevailed. The men—and occasionally women—born from the unions were always fair-haired and blue-eyed.

  The landscape shifted from mainly white to startling green. This was the hunting ground, filled with wildlife for their taking.

  Up ahead a dark mass came into view.

  The musk ox herd.

  Aryan raised his arm, making a fist. His men stopped.

  Bojan instructed the hounds to stay with the sledge as the Hand continued forward.

  Aryan made a circling motion with his finger, and the warriors moved stealthily around the herd and up a steep incline.

  Musk ox were dangerous creatures if encountered up close; Aryan had seen one fend off a wolf once, scooping it up with its horns, flinging it up in the air, and trampling it to death when it hit the ground. At a distance the Hand could pick them off one by one, but only if they stayed upwind and remained hidden.

  If they were lucky they may even be able to catch a few younglings. The elder ones could be used for meat but were mainly hunted for their coats; the wool used in the textile factories to make most of their clothes. The young, however, were only ever used for meat, but if the herd spotted the men, they would surround their young, making it impossible to get a good shot.

  The herd, oblivious to danger, continued to graze, heads bent to the earth.

  Aryan crouched low, drew his bow and took aim; his sights set on a youngling at the edge of the herd. He was about to let his arrow fly when movement to the herds left caught his eye. He lowered his bow a fraction, not believing what he was seeing.

  It was a boy, one of the Forging initiates, no doubt. A short stocky thing, swaddled in furs and running directly at the herd with his spear held high.

  Aryan opened his mouth to call out a warning but stopped himself just in time. Interfering in the Forging in any way was forbidden. He clamped his mouth shut and turned away. In his periphery he saw Bojan do the same.

  One of the men, Earl, yelled out a warning that was cut short. Then a shrill scream of agony split the air, cut off by the trample of lethal hooves.

  They would need to wait for the herd to move and settle after the disruption. Then they would resume the hunt.

  For the boy who had broken every musk ox hunting rule, the hunt was already over.

  It was a subdued hunting party that returned to The City, their sledge loaded with their kills.

  Earl and Cadoc had wanted to retrieve the boy’s shattered remains, arguing the unusual nature of the situation. The incident had upset Earl more than the others, he argued that the boy could easily have been Victor or Ivor, would Aryan leave the body then? The answer was yes. The rules could not be broken, for to do so would be to weaken the chain that bound their community. To show weakness would be to take the first step toward imperfection.

  Fen and Bojan had been torn, but for Aryan there was no conflict—the rules were clear. The body must remain for the elements to devour, as dictated by The Divine. The boy had been unfit to serve and would never be a man.

  That evening, once the crystals had changed their hue from yellow to pinpricks of white, Aryan escorted Mia to Assembly. He waited at the huge doors until she had entered, waited until the doors had closed on her, and then left for his weekly visit to his parents.

  Da and Ama lived at the edge of the City, as befit their Transition status. Their home was small but cozy, filled with items that reminded him of his childhood.

  Ama answered the door and ushered him in. Even in Transition she made a stunning figure with her vibrant red hair and startling green eyes. He often wondered about the shores on which they had found her, but it was forbidden to speak of such things. Such talk threatened peace and prosperity, and so he kept his wonderings to himself.

  “Ah, my strapping boy, come sit, I’ve made your favorite pie.” She waved him toward the family room.

  Aryan slipped off his boots, lifted the fur skin from around his neck, and hung it on the hook Da had hammered into the wall especially for that purpose.

  Dressed only in his cream tunic and leather britches, he felt bare and light.

  Da called out from the other room, and Aryan ambled through, ducking to get past the arch. Da was seated in his favorite chair, the table already set for their weekly game of cards. Ama bustled in, and laid one small plate of biscuits and another of savory bites on the table before placing a huge slice of meat pie in front of Aryan. He smiled up at her, and she stroked his stubbly cheek fondly.

  “How is Mia?” Da asked.

  “Upset. She coddled Ivor. I warned against it, but she would not listen.”

  Ama placed a mug of brew by his plate. “It’s hardly her fault. Her people are nurturing by nature.”

  As soon as the words were out she clamped her mouth shut. Da shot her a warning look.

  What did Ama know of Mia’s people? He wanted to probe but the look on Da’s face warned him off. Ama left the room in a hurry, and Da dealt the cards.

  They played and ate in silence. The brew was good, sweet and bitter in equal measure. Ama always made the best brew. Her time working in the Mills had taught her much about food and drink, but now in Transition, she had nothing better to do than practice her skills on Da and Aryan.

  “Are you prepared?” Da asked.

  Aryan nodded. “Are you?”

  “I have made my peace.” He leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “Your ama will need you when I am gone.”

  He ignored the stab of pain that pierced his chest. “I will be here for her. I give you my word.”

  Da fiddled with his cards for a moment. His mouth was twisted in that strange contemplative way that said that he was wrestling with a thought or idea. Aryan waited patiently for him to come to a decision.

  Da’s mouth finally flattened. He looked Aryan straight in the eyes. “Are you happy?”

  Aryan opened his mouth to sa
y yes, of course he was, but Da held up his hand.

  “Don’t answer me yet. Just . . . think about it for a while.”

  Aryan frowned. The question was innocuous enough, but its delivery was odd. “Have you attended Assembly this month?”

  Da sighed. “Oh, Aryan . . . yes, of course I have, but at my age Assembly doesn’t yield the same results.” He looked saddened by this and Aryan relaxed.

  “You will find peace soon enough, Da,” Aryan said.

  Da nodded in acceptance, but his eyes were troubled.

  They continued to play, but the atmosphere had been tainted by something Aryan couldn’t define, and when it came time for him to take his leave, he did so with a strangely heavy heart.

  Mia was waiting up for him when he returned. A tankard of hot milk laced with spices sat on the table. Her hair was neatly brushed and tied in a knot at the nape of her slender neck, her eyes were clear and bright.

  “Did you have a nice game?” she asked.

  Aryan nodded. “Ama asked after you.

  “I’ll pop over and see her tomorrow evening after work.”

  She looked calmer. Her movements were more relaxed and graceful. He found himself relaxing in turn. The woman he had hand-fasted had returned.

  He took his place at the table, sipping his milk. She joined him with a mug of her own. She sipped and cocked her head coquettishly at him.

  He chuckled. “Are you happy, Mia?” he asked.

  “Of course I am.”

  “Why?”

  She frowned. “I have a lovely home, a handsome husband, and a brave son who will soon be a man. I am truly blessed to be a part of this city.”

  Her words echoed in Aryan’s mind, for they were words very similar to the ones that had crossed his mind when Da had asked him the question earlier that evening.

  He was happy.

  Mia stood and brushed her hand across his. “Come to bed.”

  Desire jumped under his skin. “Yes, bed.”

  TWO

  Aryan’s Hand strode in formation toward the Force Headquarters. It was the beginning of the week, and the new rotations would be posted. Fen was on tenterhooks, praying to The Divine for discovery rotation. The others weren’t so keen. Escorting the shipment back from the coast took four days, five at the most. Actually leaving on a discovery mission could take you away from The City for a month at a time. Those who returned seemed different, their expressions wary, their eyes filled with strange shadows. The Voice told them these were signs of the taint of the outside world sitting heavy upon them. Attending Assembly immediately upon their return cleansed them. It also cleansed the human shipment, allowing the women to integrate into borean society.

  They climbed the steps to the Force Center alongside several other Hands.

  Kemp’s Hand was already at the board; a chorus of cheers told Aryan all he needed to know.

  “Crud!” Fen said.

  Bojan slapped him on the back. “Never mind, we still might get the escort,” he leaned in and whispered. “You still may find that cunny you’re looking for.”

  Aryan approached the board, nodding in Kemp’s direction. The other warrior was his senior by several years, someone who Aryan had looked up to for a long time. He had a regal air about him Aryan admired and had tried to emulate Kemp in his earlier years as a warrior. Now, in his twenty-eighth year, he felt he had found his own feet.

  “Aryan, may I speak with you?” Kemp asked.

  Aryan moved away from the board with Kemp, leaving his Hand to check their rotation.

  Kemp’s lips were pressed together, his eyes sombre. “I heard you witnessed an initiate’s death yesterday.”

  Aryan sighed, wondering which one of his warriors had spoken. “Yes. We did.”

  “Listen, Aryan, I believe you did the right thing leaving the body, but I should warn you that not everyone will agree.”

  Aryan suppressed a pang of irritation. “Whether they agree or not is irrelevant. The rules on interference are clear.”

  Kemp’s eyes narrowed. “Some may not believe that bringing back the body would have constituted interference, some may believe that leaving it demonstrated callousness. The boy didn’t belong to one of my warriors, but it won’t be long before the warrior who he did belong to comes asking questions. I just wanted you to be prepared.”

  Prepared to defend himself? Is that what he was insinuating? So be it. He had followed the teachings of The Divine, the righteous path. There was no valid reprisal. Kemp was studying him carefully, reading his thoughts as they flitted across his face, and he could tell that the older warrior was unimpressed by what he deduced.

  Aryan hid his annoyance. “Thank you for your concern.” He inclined his head and rejoined his Hand.

  “Escort duty, Chief.” Fen shifted from foot to foot in excitement.

  Cadoc’s mouth turned down. “When are you going to grow up, eh?”

  “When I get some cunny.” Fen winked.

  “Frack, Fen, if you stop acting like a cunny maybe you’d get some,” Earl quipped.

  Bojan leaned into Aryan. “What did Kemp want?”

  “To give me a friendly warning about the boy.”

  Bojan growled in annoyance. “Frack it Fen, who did you frackin’ talk to?”

  Fen froze. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  Earl ducked his head.

  Bojan’s eyes widened in shock. “Earl? Crud! Who?”

  Earl kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “Hera . . . but I didn’t think she would . . . Frack! I’m going to kill her!”

  “No.” Aryan held up his hand. “It’s done. We did nothing wrong. We followed the rules.” He felt no anxiety over the issue. Anxiety would have followed him if he had brought back the body. He had avoided the taint of disobedience and saved his warriors from the same. There was no conflict in his heart.

  “Women, all the same with their gossip and yapping,” Fen groused.

  “What would you know?” Cadoc said.

  “Enough. Grab your gear; we have a job to do.” Aryan strode out the foyer and down the stairs, his warrior’s heavy footsteps close behind him.

  At the bottom of the steps he turned to his men. “Morning Assembly, now.”

  “But I went last week,” Fen whined.

  Aryan ignored him, continuing toward the Assembly Hall. They were leaving for four days, possibly more. Assembly would give them the peace of mind and stillness of heart to survive outside The City.

  They arrived just as the heavy gilded doors were about to close. Marduk, the enforcer, stopped its swing. With his hand on the huge handle he allowed them to slip through.

  Aryan bowed in respect to his superior. Marduk laid a hand on his shoulder in blessing. “You’re on escort this week?”

  “Yes, Enforcer.”

  “And you bring your Hand for The Divine blessing.”

  “For clarity of thought and deed on our journey.”

  “Good.” Marduk inclined his head, his expression serious. “In my opinion more chiefs should do the same. I fear that citizens are becoming lax with regards to Assembly.” He leaned forward speaking in Aryan’s ear. “I hear big changes are coming, Assembly has never been more important.”

  Aryan wasn’t sure what changes he referred to, but had never doubted the importance of Assembly. His curiosity was piqued however. Why would Marduk share this news with him? Unless . . . unless the changes somehow affected him. He was about to ask when the toll of the bell indicated the start of Assembly.

  Marduk stepped back, suddenly indifferent. “Blessed journey, and may we meet again.”

  “May we meet again.” Aryan followed him into the great hall, finding a spot near the exit. His warriors flanked him. Up ahead The Voice could be seen standing tall and proud. His eyes, so pale they were almost white, stared out at the citizens impassively. His white-blond hair was loose about his shoulders, lying against the deep blue of his ceremonial robes like rays of sunshine cutting across the sky.

&nb
sp; The great hall lapsed into complete silence, and from the center of the room, from the deep well that cut through the earth, shone the brightest light. It blinded them, filling them with euphoria.

  The Voice began to speak.

  Rejuvenated, the Hand left the great hall and headed to their next stop, the supplies house. They collected leather packs filled with dried meat and flasks to be filled with water. There were matches and blue fluid to be used to light a fire. Finally they collected two blanket tents and two blubber lamps. After loading everything onto a sledge, they set off toward the hound cages.

  Each Hand had its own hounds, and it was up to them to feed and care for the animals, for these were their companions out in the wilderness. The creatures that pulled the sledges. Amba, Disa, Tollak, and Varg were waiting patiently as if sensing a trip. Once the hounds had been hitched to the sledges, they made their way to the surface where Kemp’s team would surely be waiting.

  They were almost at the mouth of the exit passage when a crazed yell from behind them echoed through the air.

  Aryan closed his eyes briefly, sighing heavily as he turned to face the woman who was bearing down on him with flashing dark eyes and a fearsome scowl.

  Bojan stepped forward and raised his arm as a barrier to halt her progress.

  “Let me pass!” She pushed at his immovable arm.

  Bojan pushed her back. “I strongly suggest you compose yourself before firmer methods are employed.”

  “Let her speak,” Aryan said.

  Bojan dropped his arm and the woman flew at Aryan her fingers curled into claws. He grabbed her wrists, easily holding her at bay while she thrashed about. Her frustrated, outraged screams battered his eardrums until finally exhausted, she sagged against him. He released her, and she slumped to the ground, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  Aryan turned away, entering the passageway.

  “I curse you! I curse you to know loss!” Her voice was a bleeding wound that stung his soul.

  He picked up his pace until the passageway swallowed her screams.

  Earl shook his head. “Poor woman, she’ll be picked up for sure after that outburst.” Her warrior would lose a wife and son in the same moon cycle.