The Second Battle for the Wild Hunt

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The big event commenced two days hence, when the three moons eclipsed in front of the Red Sun. So much work to get done before then. A perfect reason for Terrani to be where he was, and not down there.

To Terrani’s left and above his hidden ledge was the main wind-eye entrance to the cave system of the Hunters Guild. He could sit there all day and they wouldn’t know. This ledge was hidden from above and below. The perfect place to listen, to learn what they did, and when finally accepted into the School of Hunters, he’d be the outstanding student, the best in history, the first of his group to be chosen by a new hatchling. However, if anyone ever found out about the first egg, that he even knew about the eggs, they’d exile him below the cloud-line.

No noises came from the cave system above him. No Riders, no Hunters, no lessons rained words down the cliff face to his hide-out. They were out. Probably hunting to provide provender.

Some of the Hunters, those without a Ride, would be higher up in the smallest cave, counting eggs or settling the Queens that showed signs of being ready to nest. Some would be trying to imprint on an egg, singing and rubbing a shine onto the hard shell, thinking the creature inside would then know the person when it emerged. And there were always one or two Riders on the highest ledges, where the Wild Ride waited and watched the world below, on guard, while the servants of the Riders cleaned and polished the glistening scales of the creatures known collectively as the Wild Hunt.

Terrani could climb up and have a look around the main cave; he would, but for the wards. He couldn’t risk it now, and after the ceremony was over, he’d be applying to the Hunter Guild for entry anyway, so he’d wait. What difference would a few days make?

If the servants of the Hunt weren’t already busy, he’d get them to tell him what they spoke about, what the Hunters did. A small offer of a token to the market stalls would do. Bribery was an amazing tool, and Ter had access to two streams of gold since Tsuni always gave him her share. He’d refused — the first time — but she said once she took up her role, she’d never be allowed to see or touch it, so why bother with it now? Who was he to argue with the Protector-designate? Who just happened to be his twin.

Ter was good at finding ways to get the best outcome. Or at least, best for him. Like now. The ruse to get out of the stupid preparations for the ceremony of Century Hundred. A simple request for something that no one recognised the name of. Of course he had to go himself, as they didn’t know what it was he needed.

And they didn’t need him. Tsuni was important, not him. At the end of the ten-sun day ceremony, she’d be locked into her obligation as the Protector of the Wild Hunt. As long as it was her, and not Ter, he’d help. As much as he could.

Planning and drawing things up were fine. He was happy to do that, and to organise the crews to do the work. As long as it didn’t involve him doing the drudge work, the digging of pits for the visitors, the building of terraced seating in newly built block-stone arenas — stones were heavy! — for the theatrics of the celebration, he didn’t mind. Surely they had enough serfs and servants to do the other stuff.

Ter had skills to learn; how to fight a-back the Wild Hunt, for one. How to make a harness to maintain his seat while fighting. How to become the Master of the Hunt. Now that would win him a new woman every week. He rubbed his arms to warm them through the cold leather of the thin-skinned crip-lizards that thrived in the upper zones of the mountains.

He lifted his right hand — the hand that would one day wear the true shell-ring of his link to the Wild Hunt, and examined the blisters and cuts and — splinters! The small priers he normally carried on his work belt were down the hill, next to the last thing he’d worked on. Hmm, the pylons? He’d have to go back down. Eventually.

In the meantime, he’d watch what Tsuni did, in case he needed to have a few legitimate memories of what happened in her vicinity. It was the best tactic. Give her some of the stuff she could verify through her own experience, and add very few embellishments. His twin loved him, forgave easily, and didn’t trust him  for a twitch of claw.

Ter smiled and leaned back.

A nap would be nice; the sun was warm on the dark stone. The reflected heat wavered in the thin mountain air. It would be easy to close his eyes and let the afternoon sun energise him. It was so tempting. Too tempting. Ter pushed his leather-clad back against the cold, white stone to keep himself awake and aware of who was doing what in the village.

Tsuni would strip skin from his toes if she thought he’d left her with all the work. Again. He was supposed to be there, to be her backup, to learn what she learned. If she failed, or couldn’t take up the role, Ter would be the second choice for Protector-designate.

He snorted. Just let ’em try. No way was he going to be mind-linked to the Wild Hunt. One of the beasts, and only as a Rider of the Hunt, was tolerable, but to be the mediator between the entire Wild Hunt and all Humanity — not for Ter. There were women to meet, challenges to win, Hunts to Ride. Tsuni was the serious twin. She could do the other stuff. Ter wasn’t going to be tied to this place for the rest of his life. A big world awaited him down there, below the cloud-line.

The first squeal cut the air like a rock-split that preceded an avalanche, long and high-pitched, with a solid thump when the sound rolled into a low tone. No crash followed the thump. Not a rock-fall. What?

Ter leaned over. He shaded his eyes to get a good view. What happened? Did someone drop a bloody great rock? He scanned to the north as far as the spires of the Revers Hall. Nothing. He frowned and scanned all the way south to the red lake. Nothing.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. Reopened them. No people at all. Where were they? He pinched his bare wrist. Ow! Not dreaming.

Ter pressed his index finger to the centre of his forehead and sought for Tsuni.

Nothing.

Nothing? That never happened before. Not since … No, he wouldn’t admit to that. But if he couldn’t touch minds with Tsuni, and she never shielded herself from him, where was she? Would he know if she was hurt? A deep shudder shook his body. Dead?

He leapt over the edge before he thought too hard. The path down was steep and dangerous. Even most of the mouflon mountain sheep went down this path sideways, but Ter had a hot coal burning his chest.

Tsuni! he mind-screamed. Where are you?

His vest tore on the Assia vine thorns when he slipped off the path at the first turn. Ter used his momentum to swing back to the thin track. His feet scudded and slid as he threw himself forward. A slight lean of his right shoulder turned him right, skidded his feet out from under him for a second. Rebalanced, pivoted; he kept his momentum at the cost of a few years’ worth of leather skins on his legs and back.

It took less time to reach the first-fit section of the arena. His breath roared from his mouth as he pulled himself around the corner.

And stopped.

It was empty. The arena was full of tools, smoking collars of fire-pits, scattered pieces of metal and wood and lumps of stone. Not a single person. His mouth snapped shut.

“Hello!” Ter yelled. His heart pounded too loudly to be able to hear if anyone responded. He reached for his finger-length las-whistle and put it to his lips. The tiny reed trembled in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath, leaned forward, and blew for his life.

The shrill scream would scare all the animals in the area into hiding, all the Hunt into alarm mode, and all the humans within hearing into raging anger at him for using the measure of last resort.

He shoved the whistle back into its slot and leaned his hands on his knees. The breathing eased, slowly, and he stood up. He was alone. No one responded. No one came. No noises, no people, no goats or sheep or birds. He was alone.

Where did they all go? Where would they hide? Yes! Revers Hall. They must be there. It was a sanctuary; someone would be there. Had to be.

Ter ran at full stretch up the terraced path. He reached the top step.

A whisper of breeze chilled his neck. He turned and looked down.

The wall of cloud that separated his mountain home from the lowlands swirled with movement. People. Dressed in indistinguishable dark colours; unknown delegates?

No, not delegates. They were going downhill. And herding the white-coats; all the villagers of the Damned Hunt.

Tsuni!

The link between them shimmered. He heard one word.

Slavers.

Ter’s sense of Tsuni faded as she went below the cloud-line. His heart froze. She was gone. He was alone.

Tsuni!

His mind echoed with the call like an empty cave. Tsuni … suni … uni … ni.

Copyright Cage Dunn 2018 – The Second Battle for the Wild Hunt (a novel)

That’s the start of the new story.  Fantasy, with action-adventure.