The air howled. Arrows shrieked from Jerad’s bow, finding their targets with deadly precision. Lucas grimaced as he fought with spear and shield to keep the talons of the Mutes back to give his companion time to shoot. The feline darted amongst the black creatures, spitting, yowling, and scratching, distracting them at crucial moments. But the circle was drawing tighter. Both men wore scraps of cloth torn from their clothes around their heads to muffle the screams of the Mutes, which clawed their way amongst the rubble towards them. Jerad stood at the top of a mound, Lucas just below. Blood leaked from beneath the cloth, and his chest heaved with the effort of covering every approach. His tin whistle was in his mouth, and he blew into it with every spare moment. Nothing replied. Jerad’s arrows were growing short.
They had followed the feline to the Water Gate. There, it seemed confused, pacing backward and forwards, hissing and spitting at nothing the two men could see. Jerad knew of familiars and prayed to the Great Singer that he had been right about this animal. But then, just before the Mute pack had descended on them, he had seen her. A vision that had stopped his heart and stolen his breath. The animal was her familiar, and it had connected them for a moment. He forced his mind to the present as Lucas cried out in pain. A Mute had gotten too close and had raked his arm. It latched its talons onto the shield. Jerad dropped the bow and smoothly picked up a chunk of masonry. He leaped, bringing the rock down on the creature’s head. The stone shattered without breaking the exterior, but the impact knocked the creature off balance, and it fell, bouncing down the slope.
Jerad hauled the younger man to the highest point, picking up the shield. Lucas’ left arm hung uselessly at his side; his shoulder shredded.
“I am sorry, son,” Jerad told him. “I am sorry I brought you here. I do not see a way out of this.”
“It was my decision to come, Jer,” Lucas replied between gritted teeth. “Without a stormbird, it would have taken you weeks to get here, and by that time…”
“You were under my command, Lucas. And I got you killed.” Again. Jerad thought. Another brave lad dies under my orders. Another face for the dreams.
He counted twelve Mutes stalking up the rubble slope towards them. At least that many haunting the rooftops around them, waiting. There was no way out except a miracle.
Darkness fell over them, and a cry which was as clear and joyful as a bell. The cry of a hunting eagle. Cullhain descended in wrath on the abominations which threatened his master. His claws and beak raked down the slope, scattering the Mutes. As he swooped upwards again, he slammed his massive breast into a rooftop, and black figures spun away with beams and shattered tiles. One outstretched wing swept across another roof, and a hooked beak caught and crushed a leaping enemy, dropping the shattered corpse, which leaked black, steaming blood. Finally, Cullhain settled before Jerad and Lucas. The great eagle landed with its back to them and looked back over its shoulder, giving impatient cries.
Jerad needed no further prompting. He swung his bow across his back, put a shoulder under Lucas’s arm, and scooped up the feline in the other arm. The two men scrambled down from their vantage point in a tumble of stone and wood. Jerad pushed Lucas to the front saddle, helping him into his harness and hoping the boy could fly Cullhain one-handed. He had barely secured his harness when the bird took off with one incredible push from its wings, climbing steeply. The feline nuzzled itself into Jerad’s chest, its unblinking green eyes finding him and holding his gaze.
“I will find your mistress.” He told it. “I promise.”
The feline yawned lazily and closed its eyes, settling to sleep.
*******************
“Stay with me, Lucas!” Jerad snapped as he secured a ligature around Lucas’s shoulder to staunch the bleeding. He had torn fresh strips from his shirt to compress against the wound, tying them in place with more rags. It was the best he could do. But the wounds were deep, and Lucas needed a healer. Fearnot was at least a night’s flying away, and no other settlements were on this side of the mountains. No, human settlements, anyway. He had let Cullhain carry them as far as he dared before prompting Lucas to set them down. The young man could not survive the flight to Fearnot, and Jerad had no idea how to find the sorceress they had come for. Cullhain had set them down atop a stone-toothed ridge that broke through the tree line. Below them was a rock-covered slope down to a stream that glittered in the occasional starlight that broke through the scudding clouds. He propped Lucas against the trunk of a tree.
“Now would be a good time if you can tell me how to reach your mistress.” He barked at the feline, the familiar. It just looked at him. It had no more idea than he did.
“Failing that, if we could talk to each other if you can communicate in any way if you even understand a word I am saying!” He kicked angrily at a stone that bounced down the slope. Then you could tell her she would be better off waiting for another hero to rescue her. This one has not gotten a thing right so far.”
He sank to the ground beside Lucas. Despair engulfed him. The boy was going to die out here in the wilderness, having barely started his life. Jerad’s head fell into his hands, exhaustion engulfed him, and his mind blanked.
“Jerad.” It was a whisper, and at first, he could barely distinguish it from the wind in the trees. “Jerad, do not fret so my darling.” It was more apparent now, a female voice that he recognized. It was coming from directly behind him. His head lifted in disbelief, and he turned around.
“Do not look, my heart. If you look, the spell will be broken, and I will be gone.”
“Alyssa?” Jerad’s voice was a fragile whisper.
“It is me, dearest. My spirit was imprisoned within the Veil. Now, I am free.”
Jerad’s hands clenched into the forest earth, fighting to hold himself still, not to turn around.
“I cannot stay.”
“Do not go. Not again. I could not bear it again.”
“I have no choice, Jerad. The Great Song pulls at me. I have lingered here as long as I can, searching for you. I have this one chance, and then my path goes beyond this world.”
“No!” Jerad’s body turned, but his head was downcast. He did not look at the source of the voice. He shook with the effort.
“Do not despair, my love. You are closer than you know to what you seek.”
“You are what I seek. The only thing.”
“Not anymore, Jerad. Our song is over, but yours continues. I do not have much time.” Alyssa’s voice became urgent, and Jerad lifted his head but closed his eyes tightly. He could almost feel her caress against his cheek.
“I can see the many paths you may take. Seek the honor of the Hunt. Honor will save you. Seek the Hunt. Goodbye, my love.”
Her last words were a soft breath that faded into the wind. Tears streaked down Jerad’s cheeks as he knelt, face upturned. Pain wracked him. He fought to hold on to the memory of his wife’s voice, her tone, her words. He could have died at that moment and would not have cared.
The wind changed and carried the scent of blood to him—Lucas’ blood.
His head lifted; tears still wet on his cheeks. But his blood was rising. Because Alyssa’s cryptic words now made sense. A warrior’s desperate instinct for life drove the grief down. His heart began to race as his realization of what he was about to do hit him.
“Alyssa, if you were alive, you would beat me with your harp for what I think I am about to do.” He kissed two fingers, raised them into the air, and was on his feet.
“Lucas! Lucas, wake up! Wake up! Do not give up! We need to get moving now!” He hoisted the young man to his feet and started into the trees, stumbling over the invisible uneven ground. Cullhain cawed loudly, unable to follow under the thick canopy of trees. Jerad heard the enormous wings unfurl and beat the air as the great bird lifted off to follow from above.
“Where are we going?” Lucas grunted through gritted teeth as he was jostled against tree trunks.
“We are going to find the Kajani.”
“What?! Are you insane? They will kill us on sight.”
“Normally they would, yes. But we are going to volunteer ourselves to be the perfect prey.”
He paused to throw a blood-soaked bandage high into one of the trees. He lifted his face to the air, looking for the direction of the wind, and headed downwind. Their scent would be carried far on this breeze; if he were lucky, a Kajani hunt would find it before something else. Something more challenging to reason with.
“I do not know what that is, but it does not sound good.”
“It is not. It is almost certain death. But it is the almost I am focusing on.” Jerad bounced off a tree trunk he had not seen in the dark, almost tripping over the roots but somehow keeping his balance.
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“Kajani do not just hunt for food.” He continued breathlessly. “It is a ritual to honor their gods. A ritual hunt must be of an intelligent being, not an animal. And the highest honor comes in being volunteers for the hunt.”
They stumbled out of the trees into a long open meadow, which sloped away from them down the hillside.
“Get rid of the bird,” Jerad ordered, lowering himself to one knee to catch his breath.
Lucas blew a series of notes on the whistle, and Cullhain began to circle higher before disappearing beyond the brow of the hill.
“He will stay high enough that we cannot see him. He will hear the call if we need him, though. I do not understand Jer. Why do we want to be hunted? They would catch us in minutes!”
Jerad stood, scouring the long grass for any signs of predators. This was a perfect killing ground. “There is no honor in hunting wounded prey. If we volunteer, honor dictates they hunt us. But before they do, they will need to heal you. Kajani disdain magic for everything but healing.”
Lucas was looking at him in disbelief. “You are going to get me healed on the promise that they can hunt us?!”
“Yes!” Jerad’s hair was wild after their flight through the forest. A wild grin painted his face. “And then all we need worry about is getting caught.” Was that movement on the tree line below them? “Not much of a chance, but it is better than nothing.”
Lucas laughed, quickly degenerating into a wracking cough that left him doubled over. Jerad knelt beside him, putting a hand to his forehead. He was burning.
He stood, facing uphill, and raised his arms above his head.
“We. Seek. The Honor. Of. The. Hunt!” Large, fluid shapes were moving amid the denser darkness of the trees. Could they hear him at that distance?
“We wish to be the perfect prey!”
A dark head appeared above the long grass. Two large, tufted ears were visible, twitching, and two golden, unblinking eyes were also present.
Jerad turned slowly, lowering himself to his knees, bowing his head, and crossing his arms over his chest. Lucas had slumped, supporting himself on one forearm, his head resting on the ground. Come on! Take us! Jerad’s heart pounded and sweat coated his face despite the night’s cold. Suddenly, he felt a hot breath on his neck and a slow, menacing, purring growl.
“We claim the right of the perfect prey to honor the gods of the Kajani through the sacred Hunt.”
“We heard.” Came the purring response. “It is rare that your kind give yourself so willingly to the Hunt.”
“My companion is gravely wounded.”
“And you wish him to be healed. You care nothing for the honor.” A paw lifted his chin, claws digging in and drawing blood.
“But you do. Heal him, and we will give ourselves to the Hunt. At least we will have a fighting chance.”
More tall, bulky figures were rising from the ground. Their heads were maned, their faces feline.
“Kastha, there is better prey in these hills. Let us dispatch these two. I hunger.”
Kastha gave a sudden snarl. Its lips peeled away from massive canines as it turned to the speaker. The Kajani who had spoken ducked its head, stepping back behind its fellows. Kastha’s snarl continued deep in his chest as his golden eyes roved the pack around him.
“Nothing in the precepts says the perfect prey must have honor.” He turned back to Jerad. “The honor comes from the chase. It has been long since we hunted for honor instead of food. How will you give us honor, human?”
“I am a warrior. I fought the Great Silence of the East on the walls of Argent. My company fought on in the wildlands when the city fell. We lived off this land.” He looked Kastha in the eye and did not look away. “I have killed Kajani.”
The two stared at each other long before Kastha tossed his huge head.
“The prey is accepted. We will heal your companion and arm you if you need it.”
Kastha snarled a series of guttural commands to the others. Jerad felt himself seized by huge paws and flung over the shoulder of a Kajani as though he were a sack of meat. He allowed his body to go limp, knowing no human could ever keep up with a Kajani. To be carried was the only way to get Lucas to their encampment. Once there, he would suffer Kajani's healing; he did not envy the boy’s experience. But his wounds would be healed. And the pair of them would be armed. He repressed a toothy grin.
Another of the Kajani had pinned Lucas to the ground and pressed its paw against the boy’s wounded shoulder, applying pressure ruthlessly. Its black lips curled back from teeth as Lucas screamed in pain. Its chest shook, and a barking sound came from somewhere deep within, short and repetitive. Laughter. Fortunately, Lucas passed out from the pain after seconds, and the creature flung his body over its shoulder, licking his blood from its paws as it did so. It cocked its head when it saw Jerad’s flat stare.
“Blood flows slow when not awake.” It told him. “He will not die before we reach camp.” It was not as adept at human speech as its leader had been. Jerad understood all the same. Lucas may well have bled to death if left as he was. The Kajani had slowed his heart by forcing him to pass out. But it had enjoyed doing it. Kastha roared, and the pack began to run.
Jerad lost all sense of time and direction as the pride flowed through open fields and thick woodland. They ran on two legs and four, or three, as was the case for the two who carried human burdens. An acrid stench of sweat, blood, and leather filled his nostrils from the thick fur of the Kajani who carried him. As his face touched the straps and belts that the Kajani liked to adorn themselves with, he tried not to think about the prey, which the Kajani found most useful for its skin. Sleep was beginning to blur his senses, helped by the regular rhythmic motion of the running feline that carried him. Then all was still.
Firelight woke him. He jerked his head up as he was flung to the ground, landing with a jolt that knocked the breath away. He lay still, unmoving. Around him were towering feline forms. Dozens of glowing golden eyes were focused on him and the unconscious form of Lucas. Barks, growls, and snarls were exchanged above his head. Fangs and claws were flashed. He could not follow the complexities of Kajani’s speech, but his captor was arguing with those in the camp. He held his breath, hoping that Kastha would not be overruled by another of equal or superior status. Then he was hauled to his feet by a Kajani with black fur, shot through with white. The others arranged themselves in an arc with him and Lucas at the center. Kastha stood in the line next to a smaller figure with yellow fur and a complex web of belts crisscrossing its torso. It had no mane, and its thick fur was woven and braided into intricate patterns all over its body.
“Welcome, honored prey. I am Harren. I lead the Greyfoots. Do you know what being the leader of a Kajani pride entails, human?”
“I believe so, though I know little of your people except how to fight them.” He knew that what would be considered antagonistic by a human would be welcomed as a sign of strength and courage by the Kajani. “And kill them,” he added, smiling and showing teeth. Guttural laughs and snorts rippled up and down the line. Harren showed her canines.
“It means I speak to the gods on behalf of the pride. And I am responsible for the Great Hunt, which honors the gods. I will see that you are both made ready, that your deaths will do honor for us.”
Jerad nodded wearily. Lucas was taken up at Harren’s barked command and carried away from the firelight. Harren followed. A heavy paw thudded into Jerad’s shoulder, and he looked up into the face of the dark-furred Kajani who had put him on his feet.
“Come, honored prey. We have food and drink for you, and you may gather your strength before your glorious death.” He raised a rattling object above Jerad’s head. Jerad saw it was a necklace made of tough, twisted fiber and hung with bones. He bowed his head, and the Kajani placed it around his neck.
“These are the canines of our ancestors, great warriors, all. You will wear them so that all may know you as the Prey. And that you may call upon their prowess in battle. I am Krissker, follow me.”
Krissker turned and looked away into the camp. Jerad followed. Tents were arranged in a circular pattern from the large fire around which many Kajani lay, alone or in groups. He could see one across from the fire, which rose above the others and boasted a variety of skulls suspended on stakes at its entrance. He saw Lucas carried inside. There were human skulls, though the majority looked to be Nelim by the large eye sockets and prominent skull ridge.
Krissker led him to a gap in the fire and indicated he should sit. A joint of meat was presented to him by one of the other Kajani nearby, and he bit into it, putting to the back of his mind what prey may have provided this.
“What brings two unarmed humans into these mountains?” Krissker asked, his stare direct and joined as he spoke by a dozen others. Jerad knew they would not look away until he answered satisfactorily. The Kajani cared nothing for subtlety. He hesitated a moment before answering. The question's tone differed from how Kastha had spoken to him, with the contempt born of absolute knowledge of his superiority.
“We were fleeing Argent.”
“The dark city to the north?” Krissker rumbled. “Where the bitter bloods come from?”
Jerad did not know what manner of creature a bitter blood was, but he nodded.
“You are pursued?”
Again, Jerad nodded, his mouth too full to talk, his hunger too strong to let him pause.
“How many went into that place?”
Jerad swallowed a mouthful of hot meat. He suspected it was a horse.
“Just the two of us.”
Krissker gave a long, purring growl, nodding his head. “A human weaver rules that place. Is that not so?”
“Weaver?”
Krissker nodded, waving his fingers in the air. “A weaver of magic.”
“Yes, he does.”
“And you two alone went in and out again.”
“My friend was wounded, and we did not achieve our objective besides. We went in there to rescue a woman who was trapped there. She escaped but not through any efforts of ours.” Jerad concluded grimly, taking another bite.
“Still, I look forward to your Hunt, bare skin. I went into the stone place and barely escaped. The bitter-blooded are strong there.”
A scream cut through the night air, a human voice in fear and agony. Jerad started to his feet or tried to. Krissker’s reflexes were quicker, and his massive paw caught Jerad’s shoulder, forcing him to the ground with a thud. “Your friend’s healing begins. He will wish he had never been born before it is over. But he will be whole and strong for the Hunt.”
Jerad winced as Lucas’ pained wail came again across the night. “I knew it was bad for other races, but…Great Song!”
“You have fought us before?” Krissker asked casually. “You told Harren that you knew how to kill Kajani.”
“I led a company in these lands after Argent fell. Our purpose was to fight Atramen, but we had to stay alive. We made our camp on the lands of the Sunmanes. They took their toll at first until we discovered the right tactics. After that…” He realized that Krissker was listening silently, food halfway to his mouth. Three others nearby were similarly attentive, shifting themselves to encircle him, blocking him from sight and hearing the others around the fire.
“We...killed the Sunmanes, drove them into the sea, and took their hunting grounds. But they had been weakened. That was you, bare skin?”
Jerad nodded. “I killed Sarika, their leader, in single combat.” He said it in fact. Krissker exchanged looks with the other Kajani, who sat about Jerad. He could not read the feline features, but the look was significant.
“Sarika was the enemy of my blood, Jerad. I had sworn a vendetta against her.”
Jerad considered this momentarily, trying to figure out if he had made more of an enemy by telling what he had done. A bass rumble came from behind him, a deep purring voice.
“And I. I am Taliss.”
“And I. I am Hroth.”
“And I. I am Haskarr.”
“The Greyfoots pursued the Sunmanes across the mountains into the east many seasons ago, but we all had personal reasons to hate Sarika beyond the feud between our pride. We are all that is left of our den.” He saw Jerad’s blank look. “That is, we all share the same mother. To know Sarika the Cursed is dead. It brings me intense pleasure. We will honor our mother tonight, and one of us will stand guard over your tent.” He paused, his large green eyes unblinking. “With what we now know of you, we would do this even if you were not prey, yes?”
Jerad nodded. He had done the impossible and made allies among a people who despised those not of their blood.