Indiana Bones

[Colt]

67th of winter, 515 a.v.
late morning

Hounds. They were big, vicious, and unbelievably fast. A season ago, Shahar would have thought himself a considerably skilled hunter––objectively, not a boast––and able to track and slay most beasts that roamed the shared territory of the Sea of Grass. But here, in this unending jungle, he felt like a novice once again. The rainforest of Falyndar didn’t seem to end, but the strangeness of that was that it went up; the land didn’t just go north or south or to the side, it grew out of the ground alongside the trees. There were animals that lived their entire lives without touching the ground, and then there were those that never left it. The vast web of life was three-dimensional in a way that was completely alien to a Witch born and raised on the grasslands of Cyphrus. It was unfamiliar.

But it was something he had to adjust to.

Akila hounds were the name of what he was hunting, near as he could figure. The she-Witch of Taloba hadn’t spoken to him in words; he knew not the Myrian nor the Common pronunciation. But she had given him a deeper, more complete picture of his prey, in her own understanding and experience of the animal. Size, weight, vocalizations, energy; in Nura, she had given him the understanding of the dog’s physical reality, and that was what he followed it by.

She had told him of a Myrian hunting party built exclusively to destroy the pack of hounds––they were invasive, apparently, and therefore needed to be eliminated––that had found their den and torn into them, leaving most of the animals dead. Most, but not all; one or two of them had escaped, and so she had asked him to remain alert for their kind and to kill them if he came across them and was able.

And then he had come across one, and he was able.

Well, “able” in that he could track it and possessed a weapon, although his conditions were certainly less than ideal. The shortbow he had managed to haggle into his possession at the beginning of their stay was nothing like he was used to. He had seen bows before, and knew how they worked, but was hardly an archer; he could make an arrow reliably leave the string, but unless his prey was three feet in front of him he doubted his ability to actually hit anything. And with Kyla and Kai unable to speak the language and barely able to leave the house for Kyla’s injury, it hardly left time for practice. He had to learn on the job, and make the best of what he could.

He thanked the gods for Snow’s presence every time he set foot into the rainforest. The two of them were far from perfect, but since their arrival onto the shores of Falyndar, she had changed. She was more alert, less playful, more cautious of their surroundings. She almost never wandered out of sight, not after what Fish had done to them on the ship; not knowing where their partner was tended to leave both of them in a state of panic.

And then there was Erikal. They were not brothers by blood, but in a land of Myrians, they were certainly brothers by creed; with Kyla unable to walk and Kai entirely dependent on what he was given, it was an incredible stroke of luck that Shahar had someone else to share the load. Their skills were spread over different areas, but that hardly mattered; what mattered was that Erikal was willing to shoulder the same burdens.

The rainforest was, as always, loud. Birds squawked, monkeys howled, and the death-cry of something being eaten could be heard again and against, almost like clockwork. The trail of the akila hound cut through the foliage like a tunnel, and Snow was sniffing at where it curved around the root of a tree. One advantage to the thickness of the plant life was that tracking was made easier; the prints of the hound were clear, as was its speed and attributes. It was a somewhat smaller specimen, perhaps just a bit smaller than Snow, which would explain its speed and how it had managed to escape from the Myrian hunting party the day prior. It was heading north, apparently around the rim of the great lake, although it did not appear to be actively fleeing so much as it was simply moving quickly. They would have to keep up a brisk pace to catch it.

“There,” Shahar said to Erikal, indicating the trail. “It went that way. It looks lean, but don’t count on that helping;” caution, danger, important, “these animals are large and powerful. We shouldn’t try and confront it directly. If we can trick it into a place that gives us an advantage, that would be best.” Evade, don’t get close.

Shahar fingered the bowstring idly, then slung it across his back.

“It’s moving quickly,” he continued, heavy task, “and so we need to move quickly to catch up to it.” Fast jog, slow run. “And we need to arrive with enough strength to slay it.”

It wouldn’t be easy, but there wasn’t much else they could do as an alternative; Shahar cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, alerting Snow to his intent to move. He scanned the canopy one more time for danger, and then set off after their quarry; a steady half-run was the pace he used to lead, something that would make them breathe heavy but wouldn’t drain them as easily as a sprint.

[Erikal]

Erikal didn't trust the Myrians. He had told Shahar as much on many occasion. It had become something of a heated disagreement the two shared when the insect bites and frustration of surviving on very little, frayed their nerves. He understood the reasoning behind it. His quiet friend had valid points and the woman and child needed their support now more than ever in the strange foreign environment. He didn't trust witches either. Didn't know exactly how Shahar had come by much of the resourceful information he had come by, but had learned enough to know that witchcraft and voodoo was probably not going to end well for them. But most of all, Erikal wanted to go home. By any means possible.

He missed his home and his family terribly. He missed Korvas. And his father was dead now. That cut at his heart every time it rushed unbidden to his mind. Replaying over and over again the image of the pirate lass piercing him through the heart with her deadly blades. He had nightmares about it too. In the more pleasant ones, he was able to alter the outcome; prevent his father's death with desperate heroic acts. But mostly he failed. Always too late or too lacking in skill. He vowed he would find and kill the woman responsible. He had searched the faces of the pirates, always looking for the familiar identity. All to no avail. He could only pray that she had been slain in the Myrian ambush that killed many of the sea scum. He hoped Fish was among the fallen as well.

He had vowed never again to leave the Grasslands, should he be lucky enough to ever return to his homeland. This was a topic that both he and Shahar whole heartedly saw eye-to-eye on. Though Erikal did not speak of it, he was glad to see his friend in good spirits again. Perhaps, like himself, family weighed heavily on his heart still, but after his reunion with Snow, the man seemed whole again somehow. The man in the floating cage had not been Shahar. He had been more beast than man, than even Snow. Wild and unpredictable and completely on edge at being forced apart with no knowledge of the dog-wolf's fate. The crazed look he had seen in the man's eyes put a fright into his heart.

Erikal had offered little resistance to the current hunt. Shahar had heard his voice and read his grassland signs enough to know his mind. But still, the hunt is something he was born to. Hopefully this time it would earn them a grand bounty. Enough to see them home and away from this weird land of trees and bugs and savage warlike peoples. It felt good again to search for tracks and run. Nay, it was not the same as running with the wind blowing fiercely on the face with nothing but open blue above and swaying gold to your hips. This running had little breeze to speak of. The air was hot and humid and left a coat of sweat glistening on his neck and forearms. They ran cautiously, keeping eyes on the ground nearly as much as ahead of them. Not simply to keep a close watch on the tracks the beast had left, but to stay alert to the countless roots and other hazards the terrain had to offer.

As usual, Shahar provided an excellent plan. A cautious plan. The man had probably saved his life on numerous occasions where he had seen fit to just charge ahead right into a trap or dire circumstance. Perhaps a part of him wanted to find a challenge he could not hope to survive. Perhaps a part of him wanted to be punished for not saving his father. To join him in the web of souls did not seem like so horrible an outcome.

Erikal followed at a brisk pace, a stride or two behind Shahar. He surveyed the ground and then lifted his gaze to their surroundings. Snow ran ahead, a white streak amid the thick greenery. He had gotten closer to Shahar's animal in the passing days. And at times, he could almost predict what the wolf was thinking in the way that Shahar so effortlessly did. He had always had an empathy toward animals. Even as a youth he had been the wild boy of the Pavilion, wrestling with the dogs and offering adventurous tales to an audience of placidly attentive striders. He often wondered if it had something to do with what had happened to him whilst hunting prey. The empathy and fear he had suddenly keenly felt just before the kill. And then there was the dreams of Caiyha. Sending him as many off-putting messages as uplifting omens.

Erikal noticed a blur of movement betwixt the massive trunks of trees about thirty yards or so where the trail meandered down a subtle decline. He raised his newly bought spear in warning and gestured in hand-code to Shahar. Careful. Something ahead of us.

The normally noisy jungle, grew noticeably quiet. Eerily quiet.....




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[Colt]

The rainforest passed them by in a blur. With the foliage too thick to look through, time became a series of encapsulated moments instead of a lengthy whole; he could barely see three paces in front of him, the plants were so crowded, and neither could he see where they had come from. He could not look over his shoulder to keep watch for landmarks; the only way they would find their way back would be to track their own passage to the great lake, and from there to Taloba.

It was with some degree of caution that Shahar reached into himself and tugged at his djed, particularly the djed of his eyes. Immediately he could feel the strain of his muscles as he focused his energy on the path in front of them. The air warped beneath his gaze, peeling away from itself to reveal telltale threads of light, crisscrossing one another to tell the story of a hundred lives that interwove to make the tapestry of the jungle. Pathfinding was a magic that he had learned out of respect for an elder, but had now become an advantage that made the impossible odds he faced seem merely improbable. With The magic of pathfinding, he could find almost anything.

The thread of the akila hound was brighter than those surrounding it, enlarged by both the animal’s size and by How recent the passage had been. He couldn’t reliably judge the actual time it had been since the hound had passed this way, other than that it had been less than a while. The radiance of the animal’s djed body lit up the undergrowth, leading him on until it flickered out of sight with his exhaustion. He let his eyes rest, followed the physical, non-djed trail, and picked it up again when he regained his breath.

He was in front of Erikal, and therefore hidden from the younger Drykas, else he would not have dared reveal the bright magenta glow of his magic. He knew from experience that pathfinding could be quite visible, and he was reluctant to raise Erikal’s curiosity. There was no doubt in his heart of their kinship; they were together out of necessity, and would surely perish if it was otherwise. Shahar would not hesitate to risk his own life if Erikal’s was in danger, and expected that those feelings were mutual. That would not change.

But there were still things that he didn’t trust the other Drykas about.

It had started off small, at first. For convenience’s sake, he had neglected to mention how he had earned Certilop’s favor in the village by the coast. Phylonura was too exhausting and simple to explain with words or sign, and besides, there were a hundred tasks before them that always needed doing. He had simply skipped the topic in favor of getting them moving, allowing Erikal to assume whatever he wished. But soon enough the small things led to larger things, slowly at first, but unmistakeable; Shahar’s opinions on Myrians differed from Erikal’s, that much he knew for certain. Myrians were violent. They were wild. They were uninhibited. They were, at the hearts, utterly primal creatures, and that carnal primality struck chords deep inside the Dawnwhisper that he couldn’t explain. He understood their wildness. He didn’t just understand their wildness; he shared it. A long time ago, he had been the same. In many respects, he still was; the only difference was that the Drykas culture he wore about his shoulders like a cloak encouraged him to keep that wildness on the inside, while Myrians wore theirs on the outside as easily as their jewelry of feathers and bones. He didn’t think Erikal would understand the depth of the solidarity he felt for Myrians. It was a point of difference that had come to heated words more than once, but Shahar didn’t dare reveal the entirety of his position. It was simply, “Myrians are trustworthy, if you understand them,” a point that Erikal was not at all comfortable with.

If Erikal knew exactly what rituals Shahar had already shared with the Myrians of the Leaping Fish clan, he had no doubt that their partnership would end then and there, and that was not an option. So Shahar simply kept his mouth shut, and focused on what they did share: the desire to go home. That was everything. Home, Drykas, the grass; the thought of Cyphrus inspired the same lonely ache within both of them. Getting home was all that mattered.

Snow halted in sudden alertness the same moment that Erikal flashed cautious signs his way. He had seen something. There was a creature ahead, just in the trees. Shahar narrowed his eyes, turning away from Erikal to hide the glow. Yes, it was the same djed trail.

That’s the one, Shahar signaled confidently. But how to kill it?

The Dawnwhisper took up his shortbow again and fitted an arrow to the string. He took a moment to draw it, keeping the arrow pointed at the ground, just so he could feel the weight and draw of the weapon; he needed to be very, very close to actually hit the animal.

It would likely be best for Snow to lead the attack, as she was of a size that might draw the hound in to fight. The Taloban Witch had told him that the hounds were aggressive, much more likely to stand their ground than to flee. If it was so, then the three of them could use that to their advantage.

If Snow attacked first, they could generate the illusion that she was alone. The hound would probably be more likely to fight her if it believed the battle was one on one. If the fight was initiated, Snow could draw the hound back towards Shahar and Erikal, who could even the odds before anything got too bloody. The three of them would surely be able to slay a single hound.

Snow. Here.

She looked back, and Shahar gestured for her to come. She gave a reluctant look at the trail, but obeyed within another moment. Shahar knelt and ran a gentle hand over the crown of her head. That way, he indicated in sign, supplementing it with the general feeling of target. Target here, retrieve, lure, bring here, to me.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Snow had lured a creature to him.

Snow took another few moments to absorb and process what Shahar was asking, then turned and slipped into the brush.

She will bring it here, Shahar signed to Erikal. Be ready.

There was snarling up ahead. Snow, being entirely white, was not all that good at hiding in a rainforest. Petty posturing and sounds of defensiveness permeated the air, and Shahar waited for them to escalate, entirely prepared to dash forward and disrupt the entire plan if Snow needed him to.

But it didn’t escalate.

One snarling beast retreated, punctuated by Snow’s confusion. She remained in place, but the hound was retreating.

Something’s wrong, Shahar said. Prey fleeing.

Snow was attempting to follow, but there was a deep hesitation and uncertainty that spilled over to Shahar; the Dawnwhisper tensed and followed his partner to where she was lingering. There was a sharp rise in the earth, and at the heart of that rise was a hole---a cave? Snow was pacing at the mouth of a dark fissure, where the hound had apparently disappeared into.

“In there,” Shahar said, somewhat perplexed. He wanted to follow their prey into this apparent cave, but there was a healthy dose of caution holding him back.

[Erikal]

The sight of the shortbow in Shahar's possession brought a grin to Erikal's face. His friend had been, to be quite blunt, terrible at the start. As like to hit friend as foe. Erikal offered him assistance in the basic technique of the weapon, though he was still a novice himself. He found himself repeating pointers his father had given him at first picking up the bow. The sorrow at such memories must have shown on his face for Shahar found cause to ask on the origin of his sorrow.

The man was appropriately gentle and respectful. Perhaps he had already known of his father's demise with his feverish antics in the brig. But if that was the case, he never asked to be sure. Despite his obvious lack of skill, Shahar was intent and patient in learning. Where he might be claimed by impatience and frustration, his Drykas brother was steady even in the face of lack luster results.

The jovial spirit filled his belly when on the hunt. The gloomy disposition that had tainted his heart for many days after first landing in the jungle vanished. He didn't have time to dwell on his father's death or everything that was wrong with their current situation. Nor express sorrow for the ache that was in his heart for Korvas's absence.

The sheer joy of running and tracking a beast permeated his soul and his naturally joyful personna returned. A part of Erikal wondered even now if perhaps Shahar's own personality was rubbing off on him. Shahar was practical and while not exactly dour, certainly more on the sedate side than he. But he knew that for a lie. It had to be the guilt of his father's death weighing upon his mind and being so far away from home to be the reason for his abnormal temperament.

Still, he knew Shahar kept things from him. Every man had tales that need not be spoken for all ears though. Perhaps that knowledge had stung him. After everything they had been through he expected there to be very little between them. But that was not his way. There were things left in shadow. Things he could not fathom the meaning of. Perhaps those secrets were best left unsaid.

The present moment need not worry about secrets though, or depressing memories, or how to find the trail back to the Sea of Grass, it only required his full attention which he gladly gave.

Even the alien jungle of Falyndar had a sort of heartbeat to it. It lurked in every tree, connected by vines and minds of both predators and prey. There was a song being played even here in this far away land, if one listened long enough....

Erikal gave a flicker of a nod to Shahar in understanding, positioning himself against the trunk of a white looking tree that had a shredded texture to it. He became a statue, poised to strike with his spear like some ancient sculpture of the gods.

But nothing happened. He found the stance hard to maintain with the blood-sucking bugs descending upon his exposed flesh. He cursed the little bastards and was grateful to hear Shahar's announcement. Not that he was glad that the moment of battle was not nigh. He hoped to still find the hound. Only not wait for it to come to them, but for them to bring the fight to it.

"It fled? Maybe the locals are wrong about their being aggressive after all," Erikal said, coming to stand beside Shahar, not bothering to attempt to peer through the dense greenery to confirm his brother's findings. He knew the man had an uncanny connection to sense what Snow sensed. It was some gift of Caiyha's he guessed, but did not probe the man on the subject. A blessing from the goddess was not something to waste words on. It was sacred knowledge.

Erikal followed Shahar to what appeared to be the entrance to a cave. About the mouth grew vines aplenty, partially veiling a section of rock. Erikal took it upon himself to approach the opening as stealthily as he could manage. Only pausing once to pat Snow appreciatively on her white head. He waited quietly at the opening for a moment to listen, but heard nothing awaiting them on the other side. The Drykas shrugged and took a moment to part a few of the vines that covered the rock surface with his spear. Behind vines, ferns, and other foliage there were odd markings on the wall. They appeared to be symbols of some sort. Whatever they were, Erikal found he did not like them much. Most appeared serpentine or otherwise dark in origin. Still, he wasn't one to back out on a hunt because someone felt the need to decorate. He turned and signed to Shahar: Coast clear.

Only darkness was present to greet them upon entering....



.

[Colt]

Erikal was the first to approach the cave, only pausing to pat Snow on the head before venturing into the darkness. Shahar followed cautiously,keeping as close as he was able without jeopardizing their movements. It wouldn’t do to split up, especially in the depths of a cave. Snow let out a low, uneasy whine and followed after.

One of the first things Shahar noticed were the odd markings on the cave walls, which themselves seemed oddly… square. Most caves Shahar had seen were slanted and rough, but these walls were quite shapely. He reached out to run a finger along the stone, feeling the bumps and ridges of ancient chiselwork. There was vague questioning on his shoulders, but it was overruled by the need to finish what they had started; the hound had run into this cave, and they had to run after it. There was certainly enough space for a man to stand upright.

Snow pulled ahead, head low and ears perked. Shahar moved in tandem, placing himself at her flank and nocking an arrow to the string.

Although the darkness was deep, it didn’t appear to be absolute. A few seconds of walking revealed the presence of a crack in the ceiling, and then another, and another; the surface above them appeared to open directly into the forest floor, so they could at least see where they were placing their feet.

A wave of discovery stopped him in his tracks. Up ahead, Snow was sniffing at something she had found, curious and worried at the same time.

“She’s found something,” Shahar informed Erikal, moving swiftly to catch up.

Snow had found a corpse. Although the humidity skewed his normal assumptions, Shahar thought that this body was between two seasons and a year old. The flesh was long gone, but the bones remained in the vague shape of where they were supposed to be. The body was covered in cloth, which was something Shahar hadn’t seen in a long time; rotten leather boots enclosed the bones of the feet, and there was a knapsack over its shoulders.

There were also more than ten arrows peppering the corpse from all sides.

Caution, confusion… this one, “Not a Myrian.” He cautiously dislodged one of the arrows and held it up for examination. “He was shot to death.” Looking around, such a death didn’t make sense; to have been shot from all sides, there must have been archers closing in on him, but this tunnel was too small and cramped for that to make any tactical sense whatsoever. Why shoot him from point-blank range when one could have just as easily run down the tunnel a few yards and shot from there?