SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Hunt, circa 450 A.D.

“A Hunt, circa A.D. 450”

            Speernah studied the burning metal filings.  Red first, blue brightest, green longest, white last.  She inhaled the smoke and grimaced at the acrid, necessary odors.  She glanced around the small gathering of villagers.  Her voice was too harsh and deep for a proper oracle's, to her own ears, anyway.  But they had depended on her mother and now they looked to her.  Her vision grew hazy.  No, it was merely different, a mix of the material and the ethereal.  How had her mother done it?  There was so much; nothing was clear.  She interpreted as well as she could.  Speernah called for two: a priestess and a hunter.  Only if they faced the enemy together could they win.  Once they retook the prize, all would be clear, the danger would be passed.

            Questions sprung from the ring of people.  The oracle'd expected them; this was her first prophecy.  When should they be sent?  Midnight.  How would they find the way?  The hunter would know.  Who would go? 

            Yes, who?  Speernah's vision was normal again, and she had no answer.  But she must reply.  The newest and the eldest, she said, energy and experience.

            So throught the hills, near the pass, these determined strangers trudged.  Not from the backs of horses, on foot--that was the only way to track.  They were losing ground on their mounted quarry, but they believed its lair to be close.  This belief made them keep at it.

            Pinwheel's dark blue eyes studied the ground.  She was the oldest hunter among the villagers, a venerable 34 years of age.  A couple of strands of orange hair fell into her face.  She brushed them back irritably.  She eased out of her crouch and stood at her full height.

            "Two hours ahead.  Not more," she grated to her companion.

            Fidestarahn nodded grimly.  "Our thief is slowing, then?"  She truly hoped so--she was a priestess, not a fighter.  Pinwheel was annoyed with their slow progress, she knew, but her habit wouldn't allow for much faster travel.

            "Slowing?  I don't think so.  Stopped to eat, more likely.  This trail's rather hard to follow, but I'm pretty sure.  We must be close.  We must press the prey."

            The youngest priestess--she was only 16--repressed a sigh.  She wiped sweat from above her green eyes and followed Pinwheel in wary stealth.  She tried hard to focus on the task.  Stray thoughts jabbed at her mind and superimposed themselves on her conscious.  She would soon be missing matins.  Someone else would have to lead the chants.  And--

            "--Stay put!" the hunter suddenly ordered.  Fidestarahn absently rubbed her sundrop medallion and tried to be silent.  Late morning sunlight stretched through the gaps in the clouds and leaf clusters.  It provided some heat, but wasn't being particularly generous.  The priestess waited in her damp, chilly boots.

            The hunter watched, listened, smelled for a sign of the thief she was tracking.  Something was not natural; there was something extra.  It was subtle but close.  Yes, a scent was there.  Very similar to the thief's scent, it was not quite the same...  Maybe the thief needed a bath.  There weren't any further signs. 

            "False alarm," Pinwheel called to her companion.  "It's nearing midday.  Shall we eat, or are you okay?"

            "Eating sounds good," Fidestarahn answered.  "I've got a couple of questions, too."

            They started eating their provisions of venison and trail bread after they had quickly gathered more water from a small stream and refilled their waterskins.  "What were these questions?" the hunter smacked between bites.

            "To begin, who is this thief?"

            "Seems to be a soldier, a captain of a Roman legion, back when there was such a thing.  The empire fell decades ago.  Our friend has apparently not noticed."

            "Impossible, isn't it?  How old would our enemy be then?  Over 60 years?  No one lives that long."

            "Aren't you hot in that hood?" Pinwheel asked.  "No way I could do your job.  Yeah, our enemy's pretty old.  And clever.  What's the other question?"

            "Why us?"

            "I've been wondering the same thing," the hunter muttered.  She hoisted her small pack.  "Ready to continue?"

            The younger woman blinked in surprise.  "Wait a minute!  We ought to know that."

            "Why?  It's our job, for whatever reason."  She took a step and looked back.  "Come on, let's be done with it."

            She wasn't satisfied, but Fidestarahn followed her partner without a word.  The day moved faster than the pursuers and both women grew tired while the afternoon shadows surpassed the lengths of the things that caused them.  The trail was now close to four hours old.  The hills began to surrender to the mountains and the large stones on the path multiplied.

            Just as Fidestarahn was about to ask for a break, Pinwheel held up a closed fist and got to one knee.  The younger woman waited again, hoping that the twilight wasn't interfering with the hunter's keen vision.  The hunter quietly approached her companion.

            "There's a cave, just over a hundred yards away," she whispered.  "I see no fire, but I smell fatty meat, probably bear, being roasted.  Our thief's trail leads to the cave.  You're ready, right?"

            Even a swallow required effort for the priestess.  "Ready," she responded through her dry throat and mouth.

            "Good.  What's your weapon?"  There was a pause that Pinwheel hoped meant nothing.  She explained, "I'll complement you.  I'd rather use my bow, but if you've got one, I'll go with my javelins."  The pause presented itself again.  The hunter groaned.  "You don't fight."

            "Well," Fidestarahn tripped on a few syllables, "I can, I mean, I'll...do my best if--"

            "--'If' what?  Of course we'll have to fight."

            "What do you want from me?  I'm a healer."

            The hunter sneezed.  Then she looked carefully at the priestess.  "The bow is tougher to learn and I favor it anyway," she said mostly to herself.  "Right.  Here, this is my best javelin.  Stab the enemy with it.  I've got the more range, but I think I'll lead."

            Her brain fought her mouth and gained a narrow victory, so the young woman followed her elder toward the cave.  It was dim at first and became dark quite suddenly.  No fire could be risked.  The moisture on the cavern floor made for dangerous footing.  With the only sounds their breaths and steps, the women continued slowly.  Fidestarahn was unsure of herself.  She slipped often and stuck close to Pinwheel.  Pinwheel was a tad worried, too, but she was on a mission.  The pair proceeded very cautiously, as quietly as they could.

            Before long, the priestess could smell the fire as well as the hunter could.  Sometimes, it seemed nearer than ever; sometimes the scent nearly vanished.  Eventually, the women's eyes adjusted as well as they could to the gloom.  They still couldn't see very well.  The silence was getting on the younger woman's nerves, too.  Only when the trail branched and Pinwheel marked their way was there any variation.

            But suddenly, Pinwheel heard a new sound and again motioned Fidestarahn to a halt.  It was unmistakable.  It was the crackle of a fire, possibly the thief's fire.  The fire was either small or distant from the sound.  Carefully, the hunter sank to her stomach and looked around the tunnel's next bend.

            The fire was distant, and it was fairly large.  It was against the far wall of a long, low, narrow cavern.  Stalagmites clustered all over the rock floor, making every inch of ground uneven.  There was a spit over the fire, but the hunter's attention was fixed on the creature that stood near it.  Shadows were everywhere; Pinwheel was unsure of the creature's size, species, even the number of legs it used to walk.  She stood back up in the tunnel.

            "Long cavern passage--there's a beast of some sort on the other side.  We'll need to get past it.  Stick to the shadows and don't get directly in front of me.  Got it?"

            "Yeah," the priestess replied with a thin smile.

            They crept forward, never moving at the same time.  The distance shortened steadily.  Pinwheel recognized their foe.  She wouldn't show her fear, but this was tough opponent.  She had hoped she'd never have to fight one, or even see one.  The thing would walk on two legs, or feet and knuckles as it pleased.  When it stood straight, it had to be close to eight feet and weigh about half a ton.  Its claws and fangs were long, yellowish tools of rending.  It was an ogre.

            Pinwheel considered several options in the next few instants.  She decided to play it straight.  Their chances were okay, weren't they?  She whispered to Fidestarahn to attack after the first arrow was in the air.  With a war cry louder than she'd normally have been capable of shouting, she stepped from behind a stalagmite and fired at the ogre's right eye.

            She didn't miss by much.  The arrow went straight into the ogre's huge right nostril.  Then the ogre bellowed so loudly that it made the women's ears ring.  It leaped forward with foam flying from its open mouth.  On all fours it came, faster than its enemies expected.  Pinwheel shot and Fidestarahn lunged.  The hideous creature died in mid-leap; its lung was pierced by the javelin, its eye and brain were skewered by the second arrow.

            It landed on Pinwheel.  Her head slammed against the cavern floor.  She wished that she'd brought her helmet.

            "Pinwheel!  Say you're all right.  Please, don't be dead," Fidestarahn pleaded hoarsely.

            "I'm alive.  Not 'all right,' though," Pinwheel coughed at her companion.  "Get me out from under this thing."

            Only part of the hunter's lower body was trapped, or the task might have been impossible.  Eventually, the priestess freed her partner and surveyed the hunter's injuries.

            Pinwheel had a few problems, serious problems.  She was bleeding from a scalp wound on the back of her head.  The area was already swelling.  The ogre had been wearing short spikes which had nearly shredded the hunter's legs.  Fidestarahn wasn't sure that she could save the older woman.  "Rest, and I will heal you," she said solemnly.  "Our mission is nearly over, since you killed the thief."

            Pinwheel's laugh was harsh and sarcastic.  "The ogre was...a pet, not the...not the thief.  Our Roman...captain...still out there."

            "Be still," the priestess instructed.  She chanted her healing spells.  The power was there, stronger than she'd ever felt it.  She saw the energy of the mystical world and shaped it skillfully.  The spell ended with its usual gift of hope to both healer and patient.

            "Now how do you feel?" Fidestarahn asked.  She continued to examine the injured hunter.

            "Better, but not well enough to continue," Pinwheel grudgingly responded.  "Our foe will have heard its ogre's yelling.  It will come here.  You must kill it before then."

            The priestess bandaged those cuts on the hunter's legs that the spell hadn't healed.  "I can't," she murmured.

            "Yes, you can!" Pinwheel insisted angrily.  "You must do it, now.  The advantage is disappearing fast."

            "But the oracle--"

            "--Listen.  I am an experienced killer.  You either slay the thief now or let it end our lives very soon.  This isn't a debate.  Go!"

            "I'll return," Fidestarahn assured her companion.  She circled the fire and continued down the close, slick passage.  She didn't care about being quiet now; speed was here priority.  She slipped and bruised her arm against the smooth rock wall but refused to slow.  She'd made a plan: hurt the thief, have it give chase, so she and Pinwheel could kill it together, as foretold.

            She rounded a corner and there it was.  It was large; the shadows made it seem immense.  The presence of evil shocked Fidestarahn.  Terror and resolve raced through her and she charged.  She drove the borrowed javelin into her enemy's side until the head could not be seen.  The creature turned sharply.  Fidestarahn was dragged to the ground but she held onto the short spear with both hands.  She got to her knees and worked the javelin back and forth, twisting, causing as much damage as she could.  The monster swung at her with its huge sword, but she dodged and kept her weapon moving.

            "Hold," the thing finally hissed.

            "No!" she screamed back at it.

            "Or I will destroy this," the beast threatened.  The priestess looked at the object it held in its shaking paw.  It was a slender, light grey cylinder--a relic--the humerus of Emporer Constantine.  "Let go of this annoying little pin," the dark creature commanded.

            Fidestarahn forced herself to release the javelin.  She knew that the thief was hurt, but she had to protect the relic.  For a moment, the two adversaries glared at each other.  The priestess noticed that the monster was wearing pieces of old, well-kept Roman armor.  Its scaly skin was some dull mix of grey and green, its blood was red, its long kilt and voluminous cowl were black.  It was taller than the ogre had been and its grey teeth and claws were longer.

            "You're ugly," the beast stated.  "Guess that's why you work for the church.  You killed my lacky, didn't you?"

            The priestess hesitated as she tried to decide how she should handle this weird enemy.

            "Oh, I get it.  You're too good to talk to me."  The greenish beast prepared to snap the relic.

            "Don't."

            "Answer me, then," the creature said.  "Is the ogre dead?"  Its voice was patronizing and slow.

            "Yes, the ogre is dead."

            "Hmm.  That makes me more than a little upset with you, my dear.  'Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, yak yak, yadda yadda, life for a life.'  I'm pretty sure that's a religious teaching.  So if my ogre's life is gone, so should yours be.

            "See, I'm trying to use this," here it brandished the holy bone, "to work a bit of necromancy.  You would interfere, I'm sure.  I don't have time, so here's--"

            The dark beast made the mistake of rolling its yellow eyes.  Fidestarahn had been stacking her courage and waiting for an opening.  She jumped at her foe with the sundrop amulet in her hand.  She struck the thing at the base of its thick, slimy neck.  It staggered and dropped the relic.  She snatched it up quickly.

            The monster roared so loudly that it deafened the young woman.  It yanked the javelin from its wounded side and charged her.  Desperately, she gripped the relic in the same hand that held her medallion.  Then she countered, leaping onto the creature's extended sword and bashing its forehead with the end of the relic.

            The beast fell and remained as still as a stone.  Dazed but victorious, Fidestarahn picked her way back to where Pinwheel was resting.  She moved slowly, since keeping her balance seemed more difficult than usual.

            Pinwheel smiled when she saw her companion.  She moved her mouth.  Talking, the priestess realized.

            "I can't hear you," she told the hunter.  "I am completely deaf, at least for now.  Forget that, though.  Can you travel?"

            Pinwheel shook her head.  She pointed at Fidestarahn, then clapped her hands together and leaned her cheek on them.  The message was clear, and the exhausted priestess followed the suggestion.

            When she awoke, she felt warm and relaxed.  The fire still burned, though it was much lower now.  The young woman knelt near Pinwheel, who'd managed to get her back against the cave wall and remain sitting as she slept.  Fidestarahn cast healing spells, first for her companion, then for herself.  She tapped the hunter's shoulder.

            "Can you travel today?" she asked, glad that she could hear her own question.

            "Help me up, please," the older woman requested.  She tested her legs.  "Yes, I am fit.  I thank you, Fidestarahn."

            "No problem," the priestess returned cheerfully.  "Let's eat, eh?"

            The women, strangers no more, headed back toward their village not an hour later.  The priestess told the hunter as well as she could about her fight with the thief.

            "So what was it?" the priestess finished.

            "I don't know.  I've heard tales of rare creatures that are neither lizard nor human, but some unholy combination.  If they can truly change shape," Pinwheel reasoned, "that would account for how it could be a Roman captain and how it could ride a horse."

            "Maybe that's where its longevity came from too," Fidestarahn continued.  "I mean, turtles can live for centuries."

            "I'm just glad it's dead."

            "True, true."

            "There's something else bugging you, Fidestarahn.  Tell me."

            "Well, it's just that, that's not how it was supposed to happen.  The oracle said that we both had to fight that thing."

            "Yup.  I'll trust my own experience before a bit of soothsaying, I'll tell you that."

            The younger woman thought for a while.  "The prophecy was wrong.  What shall we say when we return to our homes?  I can't lie to anyone."

            "Dodge the questions," Pinwheel suggested practically.  "They've got their relic back, so they won't be persistent.  The way I see it, our villagers have next to no power.  We can't take any of that from them, because they cannot spare it.  They could lose their spirits."

            "And their faith," Fidestarahn concurred.  "You are wise." 

            "I've got common sense."

            The friends looked down the hilly path.  The village wasn't far now, five miles or nearer to them.  A mist was slowly burning off the hills, taking refuge in the draws and ditches that crossed the landscape.  Pinwheel took a deep breath, enjoying the smell and feel of nature around her.  "I admit that I kind of hate to see this end and our normal lives resume.  But at least we're heroes now."

            "Heroes," Fidestarahn sighed.  "I wish that new status could dry out my boots a bit."