I forced myself not to grimace; I got a version of this same question on every new world, and I never had a very good answer. I could lie and try to make up a story, I suppose—that’s what I usually did—but I also usually had more information at my disposal when I did. In this case, I knew practically nothing about this world or how it worked. The hunters rarely spoke, so I didn’t even have much in the way of context to makes guesses about their culture. That meant that saying as little as possible was my only real hope.
“I’m a hunter, Aeld,” I finally said. “Of sorts. A warrior.”
“A hunter who lets himself be distracted by the most basic pack tactics,” the hunter growled a cold voice. “A warrior who uses a spear like he’s never held one in his life—but who still overcomes most of an ishvarn pack with only his bare hands.” The large man snorted again, and the contempt in the sound was easy enough to hear.
“And a loralvis, as well,” Aeld added. “One with great potential. Normally, only an experienced letharvis could battle a Spirit of the Hunt as powerful as the one that inhabited that undvarn.”
“Loralvis roughly means, ‘one who moves with the spirits,’ John,” Sara explained quietly. “I think it’s like an apprentice or potential letharvis, a caller of the spirits.”
I didn’t say anything; they were both right, after all. At least, I thought they were. I wasn’t really sure what that last bit about moving with the spirits meant, but he got the rest correct. I never had used a spear before, and I had let myself get distracted by the wolves’ tactics. They’d shown themselves to draw our attention so they could attack from the sides unseen, and if I’d had less combat training or crappier reflexes, it might have worked for them.
“You say you’re a hunter,” Aeld went on after it became clear that I wouldn’t respond. “What do you hunt?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Hemskal!” The hunter’s voice was disbelieving and annoyed at the same time as he spoke. “What sort of hunter doesn’t know his own prey? A dead one, that’s who.”
“Or a hunter that’s seeking his quarry’s trail and hasn’t found it yet.” I refrained from shrugging, remembering the shaman’s issue with shaking my head. I didn’t even look at the large hunter as I spoke. “There are many different kinds of hunts, Aeld, as I’m sure you know, and they each need a different type of hunter. Hunting a creature that attacked your people is different from hunting for food, for example, and it takes a different set of skills to deal with them.”
“Then you’re on a hunt for vengeance?” he asked quickly.
“No, not exactly. I’m on a different sort of hunt entirely. I’m not hunting something to punish it for what it’s done. I’m hunting something to stop it from hurting people before it gets a chance to.” I took a deep breath and a minor gamble; I knew nothing about the culture of these people, but I hoped it was something mystical or shamanic. I had very little experience with those cultures on Earth, but I’d learned enough to infiltrate one of the First Tribes in the Pacific Northwest once. Hopefully, that little bit would be enough to get by.
“I can’t explain much, Aeld, because I don’t understand it myself. I simply know that there’s something out there, something that’s going to hurt people—lots of people. I don’t know what it is or where it is, but I’ll know it when I see it. It’s just—it’s a vision I had, one I don’t understand but that I have to follow. If I don’t, something terrible will happen, I’m sure of it.”
I was pretty happy with that story. It was mostly true except for the part about the vision. I didn’t understand what I was looking for yet; I knew from past experience that if I didn’t do anything, lots of people would be hurt; I would certainly know it when I saw it—or sensed it, in my case. It was close enough to the truth that if the reality came out, I could say that I’d been honest with the shaman, if nothing else.
Aeld stood silently for long moments, staring at me. “A vision?” he echoed at last, his voice slow. “What sort of vision?”
“I—I saw the whole world, tipping out of balance,” I fabricated easily. “Something is coming to destroy it or devour it, I couldn’t tell which. And I knew that I had to climb into the high places to find it and stop it.” I looked at him helplessly. “That was all, but I knew that it was true and that I had to do it.”
“A disturbing vision,” he said, his voice thoughtful rather than disbelieving.
“Letharvis, no valskab would…” the hunter began, but he fell silent as Aeld shot him a wordless glance.
The shaman touched his chest absently, tapping on it with his fingers. “Bregg has a point. As talented as you are, surely you served a letharvis. Why would any valskab allow a talented loralvis to leave on a dream journey alone, and not in the company of hunters—or at all?”
“I don’t have a valskab,” I said with total honesty. “I’ve never had one, or met a letharvis before you.”
Bregg snorted again. “You say you’ve lived your life as a solo hunter—but you don’t know how to use a weapon, or how to deal with an ishvarn pack?”
“I never said that, did I?” I replied, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. “I said I don’t have a valskab. That doesn’t mean I’ve always hunted alone—I usually haven’t, in fact. And as for my weapon…” I sighed. “I only got it recently. I’ve used a lot of other types, and I’m much better with those—or my bare hands and feet.”
“That much is apparent,” Aeld said a little dryly, looking at the scattered bodies of wolves in silence for a bit. He and the hunter exchanged a long look, and as they stared at one another, the hunter’s face seemed to grow angrier.
“He’s not of the valskab!” Bregg spat at last. “His path is not ours to guide!”
“I am the letharvis, Bregg,” Aeld said quietly, his voice frosty. “That decision is mine, not yours.”
“We know nothing of him!”
“And he knows nothing of us and owes us nothing. He still fought at your side, and he dealt with the undvarn. There is a debt, and I will see it paid.”
“The rashi will…”
“The rashi may disagree, but I’m the one who’s here, Bregg, not them. The decision is mine alone, and I bear responsibility for it.” He turned and looked at me, ignoring the fuming hunter.
“Freyd, while I don’t understand everything you’ve told me, you’ve also given me no reason to fear you. And you dealt with the Hunt Spirit driving that undvarn and its pack, something that would have drawn significant energy from the valskab. I owe you a debt, and I wish to repay it. I offer you shelter for the night and some healing to ensure that your wounds don’t become inflamed.”
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I glanced at the big hunter, who looked pissed but didn’t say a word. He’d been overruled, and he wasn’t happy about that, but he seemed to accept the shaman’s decision—even though he obviously disagreed with it. That told me something about the pecking order in the group and probably about their society overall. I had a feeling it was a sort of theocracy, where the shamans ruled and everyone else followed. Otherwise, I doubted someone as obviously experienced as Bregg would simply accept Aeld’s orders. I was fine with that, especially since I was bleeding into the snow, and the shaman’s offer certainly benefitted me.
“I’d appreciate that, Aeld.”
“Good. Come with me.”
I followed the shaman back along the trail with Bregg taking up the rear, no doubt stewing silently. I picked my way carefully as the last rays of light drifted from the sky and plunged us into true darkness. Only the faint light of his staff let me see the path; the clouds above blocked any hint of moonlight or starlight that might otherwise have lit the way. The discomfort in my leg and arm steadily grew as the adrenaline of the encounter wore off, and I half-limped along behind the shaman back to the cave. I was starting to feel slightly dizzy and light-headed as I walked, and I glanced down to see that I’d left a trail of blood behind me in the snow.
The hunters had been busy in our absence, piling snow, ice, and rocks up into a wall before the cave mouth and packing it all tightly, then jamming spears into the outside as a sort of palisade. Three of the hunters stood at that wall, spears in hand, peering into the darkness, and Bregg peeled off to join them. I shuffled past them into the cave and sat down heavily near one wall, leaning back against the chill surface. Aeld glanced down at me once, then made a circuit of the cave, letting his staff drag along the floor The rough, uneven floor of the cave had been similarly packed with snow to level it out, with rough hides laid atop it to keep our feet warm and dry—and probably the rest of us, I guessed, as I saw more than one hunter sit or lie down on the heavy furs.
One of the hunters knelt by a ring of stones in the middle of the cave and pulled a large, blackened log from his pack, laying it in the center of the stones and stepping back. Aeld finished his circuit, then walked to the firepit and lifted his staff, and I felt a tingle of power for a moment before the log burst into cheery flames that pushed back the cold and darkness much faster than I would have expected it to. As he stepped back, another of the hunters produced a simple pot that looked to be made of copper or something similar, dumped a heap of snow into it, and set it on a tripod over the fire. Two handfuls of some sort of dried leaves went in after it, followed by a couple hunks of raw, bloody meat.
“While the meal cooks, let me see your wounds,” Aeld told me, walking back over beside me and lifting my arm. He pushed my fur aside, and I bit my tongue to keep from complaining as his efforts pulled on the wound beneath. He lifted up a leather bag and poured water over the wound, washing it clean. He closed his eyes, and I felt a tingle of energy ripple over the wound.
“Not as bad as I thought,” he said thoughtfully. “The ishvarn’s fangs didn’t go all that deep and missed anything truly important. It should heal fine on its own.” I didn’t say anything but guessed that was probably the result of my Leathern Hide ability that reduced all incoming damage. That ability seemed to work on every world, and while it didn’t stop me from getting hurt, it did lessen how badly I was hurt. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t enough—as seemed to be the case with my leg.
He knelt down and repeated the procedure with my calf, sighing as he examined it. “This is worse, however. Ishvarn teeth are designed to inflict bleeding wounds if the prey tears itself free. Without care, this will bleed for hours.” He poured more water on the wound, then touched it with his staff. I felt more magic wrapping around my leg, tendrils of it sinking into the wounds in my flesh. Fire burned in my leg, and I hissed in pain, trying to yank the limb free, but Aeld held it tightly.
“I have to purify the wound, Freyd,” he said apologetically. “Otherwise, it will fester. Stay still; the pain will only last for a few moments.” I gritted my teeth and endured the burning sensation in my leg, forcing myself to stay calm and still as the shaman worked. After a moment, the burning eased, and a feeling of warmth spread through the wound, easing the throbbing pain. Finally, he released my leg and sat back with a sigh.
“There. I’ve cleaned out the wound as best as I can and started the healing process. You’ll still need to bind it to keep it from reopening, but it should heal within several days, and there’s no risk of it becoming inflamed as long as you care for it.”
“Thank you,” I said, glancing down at the leg. My fur covered the wound, but when I gently pushed it aside, the slices in my leg had scabbed over and the bleeding had stopped. It wasn’t healed, but at least I wouldn’t bleed to death overnight. I leaned back on the no-longer-cold stone wall and sighed heavily. I really needed to learn how to use that damn spear before I ran into another wolf pack—or something worse. Part of me wanted to ask Aeld for that sort of training, but I quickly dismissed that thought. It was obvious that I was being tolerated here, not welcomed or accepted. None of the hunters looked my way; no one sat or rested near me. I wasn’t one of them, and I got the feeling that their society was extremely insular. Not xenophobic, obviously, but also not welcoming to strangers.
Aeld sat beside me, looking around at his people. “Another question occurs to me,” he said after about half a minute or so of silence. “If you’ve never had a letharvis, you’ve never had any training, correct? How then did you overcome the Hunt Spirit?”
“No idea,” I admitted. “Maybe you can explain it to me. One second, I was choking the thing to death, the next, I was floating above everyone, and the whole world started to glow.”
He turned to stare at me, his eyes wide. “Do you mean to tell me that you initiated a spiritual contest with a Hunt Spirit—on accident?”
“I certainly didn’t do it on purpose,” I chuckled. “I still don’t even know what it was that I did.”
“That…” He fell silent and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them, the look in his gaze was grave. “What you did was terribly dangerous, Freyd,” he finally said in a quiet tone. “That Hunt Spirit was a close spirit, and a fairly strong one to be able to block me the way it did.” As he spoke, I noticed Bregg shooting him dark glances, and the shaman sighed heavily, falling silent once more.
“I’m sorry, Freyd, but there’s only so much I can tell you,” he finally said. “You aren’t of the valskab—you aren’t of any valskab—and while we walk the same path for the night, yours isn’t mine to guide. However, I can offer advice. If you want to kill another undvarn, stab it with that spear of yours. It’s safer.”
I remained silent, hoping he’d add more, but it seemed he’d said everything he was going to say. It seemed that since I wasn’t part of this valskab thing—which I assumed meant his family or clan or tribe or whatever—I didn’t rate an explanation. I admit that I was a little disappointed; I was hoping he’d explain more about what happened between me and the wolf. He seemed to be hinting that I shouldn’t do it again, but if I didn’t know what I did, I couldn’t exactly avoid it, could I?
“Try telling him that,” Sara suggested.
“You know, Aeld,” I spoke, taking her advice, “I don’t even know what it was that I did today. How can you expect me to avoid doing it again if I don’t know how it happened in the first place?” He stayed quiet, and I noticed several of the hunters glancing in our direction, most giving him dark glances. He stared at each of them, and after a moment, they turned away.
“While this goes against tradition—you have a point, Freyd. Your path isn’t mine to guide, but I can’t see any harm in illuminating it so you can choose how to walk it.” He stood, rising slowly to his feet, then looked down at me. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
“Then come with me. I’ll show you, but not in here. It’s too dangerous.”
I slowly stood, wincing as my wounded leg protested the movement, and hobbled after him as he led me out of the cave and into the darkness. He walked maybe twenty feet from the entrance and jabbed the butt of his staff into the snow. He walked in a rough circle about ten feet across, dragging the staff behind him and leaving a trail in the snow. He completed his circle and stepped inside, then pointed his staff at the snow in front of him.
“Come, Freyd. Enter the circle.”
“Why?” I asked hesitantly, activating See Magic as I did. As I suspected, the line in the snow pulsed with power. It wasn’t just a drawing; he’d cast some sort of spell with it.
“For your safety and mine.” He gazed at me calmly. “You want me to explain what you did, and I agree that you need to understand. This circle will keep us safe while you learn.”
I argued with myself for a moment, but as I saw it, I had two choices. I could either trust Aeld or not, and if I didn’t trust him, why would I be willing to eat his food and sleep surrounded by his hunters? Besides, between his magic and the fact that his hunters actually seemed to know how to use their spears, if he wanted to kill me, I’d probably already be dead. Bracing myself, I stepped over the line, feeling a tingle across my skin as I passed into the circle and wondering if the way it spread up the back of my neck was normal, or if I had just made a big mistake.