Inheritance of vigour, p.14
Inheritance of Vigour, page 14
The Aggarans actively did the opposite.
Fights broke out between small groups, pairs, or hunters on their lonesome, as they each carved out their own camp. The resulting camp sprawled far and wide, with snaking paths between the haphazard arrangement. Soren sighed at the chaos before turning his attention back to his own camp. Once they finished, Soren glanced at Veyor. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.” Veyor stretched his legs and back.
“That’s it? Aren’t we—”
“Let today’s hunt begin!” a loud Aggaran said. “Be back before sundown!” The camp surged into motion as the hunters ran into the forest.
“Huh?” Soren blinked at the fleeing hunters.
Malis and Veyor sprinted after the others, and Malis glared back at Soren. “Hurry!”
Soren shook himself and sprinted after the pair. “Wait, we’re going just like that?”
“Yes.” Veyor dragged out the word like he explained something to a child. “The hunt’s begun.”
“I get that! Ugh, fine.”
They caught up to the crowd of hunters, and Soren felt a grin pull at his lips. The Aggaran hunters’ excitement was infectious; if he took down the behem and claimed the glory, then they’d all admit Aval were the better hunters! The hunters broke off in different directions, and Veyor led the way southeast. Eventually, all the other hunters chose different directions until Soren was alone with his companions.
Silence settled on the forest, and Soren eyed the canopy. It was thick enough in places to cast deep shadows between the trees. The behem couldn’t hide in the shadows, but their quarry wasn’t the only threat living in this region. Soren took a deep breath and grabbed Veyor’s arm. “Are you serious about this hunt?”
“Of course.” Veyor pulled his arm free and smoothed his shirt. “I’ve said as much several times already.”
“Do you realise how dangerous a behem is?”
“Trust me. I know.” Veyor pulled at the collar of his shirt and showed off the scars running from his right shoulder up his neck. “They’ve a loving touch. One I’m all too familiar with.”
“You’re kidding right?” Soren inspected the scars; they looked big, but many beasts could have caused them. Only a fool would claim to have fought a behem and survived. But Veyor looked serious.
“Quit your dithering!” Malis stomped between the two of them and shoved them both. “We don’t have much daylight left to work with here. Don’t waste what little we have arguing.”
“Aren’t you a little too excited about this hunt?”
“Focus! You’re a hunter, Soren. Spot some tracks for us.”
“Fine…” Soren stomped ahead and surveyed the ground.
Veyor pushed past Soren and climbed over a fallen trunk. “We won’t find the behem today, so don’t worry too much.”
“Then why are we trying?”
“Because everyone expects the hunters to try. The Aggarans will count today as a full day of hunting when retelling their story—it’s something of a ritual for them. The more embellishments to a story, the better. Besides, if someone did locate the beast and slay it today, they’d be hailed a legend.”
“You’re right.”
“Wait.” Veyor stopped and grabbed Soren’s arm. He stared at him with concern filling his grey eyes. “Did you just agree with me for once? With no arguments?”
“Focus!” Malis pushed them both again. “Let’s try to finish this today.”
Soren twitched at Malis’ rough treatment, but calmed himself with a long breath. “I think we’d be unlucky to spot it today.”
“Yes, you’d be unlucky indeed.” Veyor strolled away, pushing a low-hanging branch out of his way.
“Hey! Don’t wander off!”
***
Two hours passed with no signs of the behem—not even signs of any smaller beasts, either. Soren glanced at the sunlight piercing the canopy and sighed. “It’s getting late. We should head back.”
“Let’s move.” Malis trudged ahead and Soren rolled his eyes. Despite her earlier enthusiasm, she must have realised they wouldn’t find success so swiftly.
Soren led the way back towards camp. After a short walk, something rustled through the undergrowth ahead and Soren froze. He stared in the sound’s direction until a pair of Aggaran hunters emerged from behind the thick trunk of a tree. Soren sighed, and the hunters nodded a greeting before falling in with their procession. It could be a custom of the grand hunt, or perhaps they wanted the safety of numbers. Regardless, their procession grew by a dozen hunters as they moved closer to the camp.
Veyor didn’t miss a beat. He moved among the hunters, encouraging them to boast about what they encountered during the short hunt. Only one woman spotted tracks big enough to be a behem’s, but they were several days old. Still, that didn’t stop each hunter claiming they found something even more impressive than the last. As they moved north, a breeze brought something to Soren’s nose.
“Does anyone smell that?” Soren asked. He wrinkled his nose and, though he didn’t want to put his fears into words, he recognised the metallic scent.
“It’s blood,” an Aggaran hunter said.
As one, their group turned toward the scent. Despite their earlier boasting, every hunter stalked through the forest with disciplined care. With each step, the scent grew stronger until they passed the pair of trees hiding its source. Death clung tightly to the air, and Soren gagged as he took in the gore. Something had carelessly torn apart the bodies of Aggaran hunters. Soren couldn’t tell how many hunters had died; the pieces of their bodies spread across the forest floor and some parts looked half-eaten.
Soren let his aunt’s teachings take hold. He inspected his surroundings and spotted huge prints on the earth. There was no mistaking it; the hunters had run across the behem. The poor souls had been unlucky. Soren glanced at the other hunters, and it surprised him to see the sadness on their faces. No, it shouldn’t surprise him. They might be annoying, but even Aggarans were still people who felt loss like him.
“Good hunts in the life beyond,” an older woman said. The other Aggaran hunters echoed her wish. “Let’s return to camp and spread the news.”
“Aye!” the hunters said as one.
As one, the Aggaran hunters turned and walked away. Soren blinked at them before glancing at the gore. “Wait! We need to—”
“Soren, shut up!” Malis grabbed his arm and brought her face so close to his, she almost head-butted him.
“We need to tend to the bodies!”
“No, we don’t.”
“She’s right.” Veyor approached and pushed Soren away from the gore. “It’s the Aggaran way; leave the body of a fallen hunter to return to the earth where they fell. Don’t insist otherwise—the hunters are armed and you might offend them.”
Soren stared over his shoulder at the carnage, but Veyor pushed him along and he relented. It felt wrong to leave them, but he couldn’t argue if it was what they would have wanted. The return to camp passed in a subdued trek. Upon their arrival, the dozen hunters who accompanied them moved amongst those waiting at camp and spread the news.
“We’ll track the beast from where the others fell tomorrow,” a hunter said to his partner. Similar sentiments echoed across the camp, and Soren shook his head. It was logical, but the swiftness of the Aggarans getting over the deaths felt callous. If an Aval had perished, they would have spent a night reflecting on the life of the lost.
Veyor led the way back to their small camp, and Soren settled on the grass. He watched the last of the hunters finally return to the camp. Eventually, hunters lit their fires and cooked their dinner. As they worked, the Aggarans boasted about their hunts. Soren ignored them and cooked a simple meal for everyone.
Once he finished eating, Soren laid back on the grass and stared up at the stars. He only rested his head for a minute before both Veyor and Malis stood. Soren glanced at the pair and arched an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”
“I’m off to enjoy the night with livelier company.” Veyor turned away, but glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “You seem rather boring tonight, I’m afraid.”
Soren ignored the infuriating man and glanced at Malis. She shrugged. “What I do is none of your business.”
With that, both Veyor and Malis strode away in opposite directions. Soren watched them leave and rolled his eyes. Despite the annoying way they said it, they were right. It was far too early to call it a night and he wouldn’t get any sleep with how loud the Aggarans were, anyway.
Maybe I can find Gen among the crowd, Soren thought. The old man will be a nicer conversation partner than the braggarts surrounding me.
Soren climbed to his feet and wandered away. He only made it a short distance before he bumped into someone. “Sorry about that.”
Soren turned to the young woman, and his eyes widened. She stood as tall as him, and her green eyes stared directly into his. A bright ginger mane matched the striped fur that covered her forearms and a similarly coloured tail poked out from behind her. The attractive woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
“Watch where you’re going!” Her pretty face pulled into a scowl, and she shoved him. “Stop staring, Aval! What’s your name?”
Soren narrowed his eyes at the woman—why did he think she was attractive? “It’s Soren. Why does it matter?”
“Well, Soren, I am Nyre. And I wanted to be accurate when I told the story of my victory. Everyone will want to hear about the bumbling Aval who couldn’t walk straight to save his life. That he would think himself worthy to join the hunt will make everyone in the audience laugh!”
“I can walk straight! You just weren’t worth my notice, so I didn’t even realise you were there!”
“Hah!” Nyre bared her teeth at him. “You admit you can’t keep track of your surroundings! What kind of hunter are you?”
“Oh, shut up.” Soren stomped closer to Nyre and bared his teeth back at her. “You ran into me! You’re the one who didn’t pay attention!”
“You apologised! That means you know it was your fault!” Nyre pushed a finger into Soren’s chest and her other hand balled into a fist.
“Now, now!” Gen leapt between them and held up his hands. Soren tried to push the old man out of the way, but Gen held his ground. Gen pushed both Soren and Nyre back, causing them to stumble. How was the old man that strong? “I’m sorry, Soren, but I need to speak to Nyre. Do you mind if I interrupt this pleasant conversation you two are having?”
Gen shot Soren a look that told him it wasn’t really a question. A small voice in Soren’s head said he could ignore the old man and fight Nyre, but his anger cooled with each passing second. “Fine. I don’t want to look at her for another second.”
Nyre stepped around Gen and held up a fist. “You’re not anything to look at yourself—”
“Nyre.” Gen grabbed her arm and Nyre glanced between him and Soren. With a growl, she pulled her arm free and stomped away. “Sorry again, Soren.”
Gen ran after Nyre, and Soren shook his head at the pair. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. An early night seemed better than anything. Soren returned to his camp and laid down. As he stared up at the stars, he vowed to best Nyre by slaying the behem himself!
CHAPTER NINE
“Gwen! For the love of all—”
“Huh?” Gwen lowered her hand from her sculpture and turned to Skadi. Her friend tapped her foot on the cobblestones outside Gwen’s house and shot her a familiar look. How long had she called her name this time?
“I swear, if you didn’t hear me just then I’d…” Skadi shook her head and brushed a hand through her short red hair. “Never mind. I’ve news.”
“Oh. What is it? Wait! Did you want to check my sculpture? Do you see how the tunnel branches and drops at a seventy-six-degree angle?”
“Gwen.”
“Look here; there’s a broken stalactite. It took me an hour to get it just right.”
“Gwen.”
“And over here, there’s—”
“Gwen!” Skadi grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Her friend stared up at Gwen with a stern look, and she withered under her gaze.
“Sorry. What did you want to say?”
“There was an attack on a town to the west. They say mist walkers destroyed the entire town.”
“Huh?” Gwen stumbled back and bumped her sculpture with her elbow. The delicate piece tottered, and she lunged at it. “No! Stay still.”
Skadi ignored the commotion and moved over to Gwen’s house. When she leant against the wall, she shook her head. “The rumours say it’s bad. Real bad. That’s why I went to the palace to check with mum. She says the royal family issued a decree on behalf of Eoven.”
“Huh?” Gwen stepped back from her sculpture and gazed at it until she was sure it wouldn’t topple over. “Oh. The town. Right.”
“Would you pay attention, Gwen? I’m getting to the important part.”
“Okay…” Gwen turned and stared at Skadi, but kept her sculpture in the corner of her eye—she couldn’t risk it breaking when she was so close to finishing it!
“I signed us up for it.”
“Huh?”
Skadi pushed off the wall and stomped over to Gwen. “Oh, now you’re paying attention?”
“What did you do?” Gwen asked. She searched Skadi’s bookish face for answers, but her friend smiled in response.
“They’re sending a hunting party to find the monsters and were looking for volunteers. So, I signed us both up.”
“Why? I can’t hunt monsters!”
“Yes, you can. We can.” Skadi pat Gwen’s shoulder comfortingly, but the gesture didn’t ease Gwen’s nerves. “Besides, we’re not going to fight. We’re going to provide relief to the town. Help clean up and stuff.”
“I can’t do it! Why’d you sign me up, too? Can’t you just go by yourself?”
“I saw Squall volunteer and thought you’d like the chance to see your crush acting like a hero.”
“I don’t have a crush on him!” Gwen’s face burned and Skadi shot her a look that saw through the lie. “He… I-I don’t!”
Skadi stepped in closer and a conspiratorial look entered her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? Squall’s accompanying the princess and I used mum’s connections to get us assigned to the same group.”
“Really?” As soon as the question left her mouth, Gwen regretted it.
“Yep! C’mon, you need to pack!”
“B-but…”
“No buts! Tell your mum while you’re at it. I’ve got to go get sorted myself.”
Gwen sighed, but Skadi pushed her to the door to her house and left her there. Hesitantly, Gwen pushed the door open and squeezed in through the gap. She scanned the messy room and spotted the top of her mother’s head poking above a table covered in half-finished woollen clothes. “Mum!”
“What is it?” Geniveve asked. Her head turned toward Gwen, but she didn’t peek her eyes above the table.
“Umm… Skadi’s forcing me to volunteer for something. There’s been an attack at a town and the queen’s sending people to help. I think. So, uh…”
“Have fun!”
“Oh… are you sure I can…?” Gwen weaved through the mess closer to her mother. She had to lean on a shelf and stretch her head around it to see her mother’s face.
Geniveve smiled at her and fidgeted with the wool covering her legs. “You’re your own woman, Gwen. I’m not going to forbid you anything now you’re old enough. Just be careful and come home safe, dear.”
“Oh… Okay.”
Geniveve turned back to her knitting, and Gwen deflated. Her mum was right; she was a woman now. She couldn’t use her mum as an excuse to get out of things anymore. Maybe Skadi had known that when she signed them up to help—or she just wanted to watch Gwen suffer. It was hard to tell with her friend, sometimes.
With a heavy sigh, Gwen weaved through the house and gathered her things. What did she need for a trip? How many stone slabs could she fit in a pack? Did she even have a pack? Wait… did she have to carry it? Gwen’s groans echoed through the house as she flailed with her belongings. She only made progress when Skadi returned. Her friend sorted her things and packed them for her before she dragged her out of the house with a farewell for Geniveve.
***
The wagon rattled with every bump in the road, and Gwen stifled her groans so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. It was bad enough she sat in the wagon with Skadi and a few strangers, but she didn’t need to suffer their attention longer than necessary. Unfortunately, they had left behind the gentle wooded grasslands surrounding Monden and ventured into the rocky plains closer to their destination. It had surprised Gwen to learn that they didn’t have a specific place in mind; no, they’d scout the area and search for monsters or settlements attacked by them. Someone else headed to the town attacked in the rumours, which everyone else seemed happy about. They wanted a chance to prevent further tragedies by hunting the monsters now.
Aren’t they scared? Gwen thought. Is it safe for the princess to hunt monsters with us?
Gwen’s eyes flitted to the horses in front of the wagon for the umpteenth time today. Princess Lyrria rode at the head of their procession, regal and beautiful. Squall rode behind her and he laughed at some quip the princess made. His laugh sounded nice, and he looked happy to speak with her even when his horse pulled to the side and he snapped at it to get back in line. Princess Lyrria laughed at Squall’s disobedient horse and he narrowed his swirling eyes at her. If only…
“You want to be up there with them?” Skadi asked.
“Shh!” Gwen glanced at the wagon’s other occupants, but none of them paid attention to her. Instead, they stared out at the rolling hills, and Gwen followed suit.
“Gwen.”
“Hmph.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
