Chapter 6 Abandonment

My parents have been allowed to be together all of their lives. The Magi have journals and diaries they consult when they decide which of us to breed. We’re common, though. Our bloodlines aren’t worth much and we’re never selected for anything special. — Prince Eater#34

Jon woke without opening his eyes. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious. There were no more tears to blink away but, even if there had been, sobbing made the pain worse.

Everything had been so happy only three days prior, and now he would be dead by morning. He had done nothing wrong; betrayed no one; harmed no one; ran from nothing; yet nevertheless here he was, maimed, immobile, and thrown away.

A shadow passed over his face. Sensing it terrified him. His eyes sprang open, and his unbroken arm came up defensively. The head of a large bull leaned over him, sniffing and examining Jon’s wounds. It made no effort to touch Jon and when it realized that Jon was awake, it moved so that its clear blue eyes looked directly into Jon’s.

Jon blinked and then squinted. Slowly he comprehended that the creature facing him was half-human, but nevertheless, he felt that he recognized it. He couldn’t imagine how or from where. He simply knew that he had looked into those eyes many times. Jon tried to rise, but couldn’t. The bull reached out a hand and rested it on Jon’s chest as if to calm him. Jon’s arm dropped and unintentionally his hand landed on top of the bull’s. The creature turned its hand over and enclosed its fingers around Jon’s hand.

“Rest,” the bull said softly. Its growly voice was comforting.

“Wh?” Jon tried to ask.

“There’s someone else here,” a female voice said urgently, pointing in the direction the Grays Commander had left. The bull’s head sprang up and it surveyed the area anxiously.

When Jon tried to lift his head to see who had spoken, he was too weak, so he didn’t realize that the woman standing with the bull was Novitiate Ainsley. He tried to repeat his question. “Oooo?”

“We have to leave,” Ainsley insisted without answering Jon. “They’ll shoot us, R —”

“No names!” the bull cut her off. “He’ll be too frightened. He won’t understand.”

The bull paced slowly around Jon again, sniffing and gently inspecting the lacerations and contusions. The tip of the bull’s tongue poked out several times, but always the bull drew it back and pushed its lips together as if determined to resist the urge to lick the wounds clean.

At Jon’s feet, the bull darted forward quickly, seized a pasture rat in each hand, and crushed the scavengers before flinging their dead bodies far from where Jon lay. It took the same action two more times before the colony of pasture rats scurried off, squealing in fear. The bull snorted contentedly and resumed its inspection of Jon.

“We need to get him help,” the bull implored.

Ainsley dug a glass jar from her cloak’s deep pocket and held it high enough that even in the dim light Jon could see that it contained a human hand. “This is all my fault. I didn’t realize she would maim him when I told her I’d seen him, but I do know that if we try to keep him with us, this is what will happen.”

“What are you doing with that?” The bull asked.

“King Harrison gave it back to me.”

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“Why did he have it?”

“I thought he’d be interested in seeing it, and he was.”

The bull’s head swiveled in the direction of far-off Hilltown. He raised his snout and wiggled it several times as if sorting the odors floating in the air.

“You’re right, we have to leave,” the bull told the novitiate. “A rider is coming.”

“One?” she asked.

“Yes, I recognize his smell. He’s coming for Jon,” the bull explained. He crouched down to set his hand on Jon’s chest again. “We will wait out of sight and come for you if you need us, but your friend is almost here.” The bull brushed the least injured side of Jon’s face and repeated soothingly, “Rest.”

The bull released Jon’s hand, swung Ainsley onto his back so she could cling to his shoulders, and ran.

As he dropped into unconsciousness again, Jon thought he heard the thud and cracking of glass falling against stones.

Gil Braeford stopped his mount under a copse of Broad-Leaved Rain Trees with branches that reached over an area wide enough that his horse could graze indefinitely and still be out of the hot suns. He had marked the spot for this very purpose during a reconnaissance mission the day before Reggie’s Ritual when Harry had asked him to be ready. The only surprise was that it was Prince Jon rather than Ethan. Things were changing. Harry had pointed that out several times during discussions the two of them entertained late at night when they had privacy. Harry’s secret network of spies and informers had ascertained that public anger toward the Ritual was at an all-time high and the rumor was that the princes themselves would lead the insurrection. Gil admitted to himself that in a way they had. Never before had anyone attempted to rescue the Chosen. Times were changing, but regardless of whether or not those changes were positive, they would not happen rapidly enough to save Prince Jon.

While settlers in the nearby country of New East Anglia discovered the indigenous people there to be exotic, feathered Eolians, the original peoples in the land that became Midhe Nuae were squat with thickened skin and heavy eyelashes designed to protect them from the blaze of the two suns. They were few in number and lived in sparsely settled groups. By a combination of genocide and intermarriage, the Earth humans eliminated the competition for resources. In the 374 years since Earth abandoned Terra Saint Edmunds, their genetics, customs, and traditions blended into one.

The Ritual that now defined who would become the next Holy King was originally a rite of passage for the indigenous people’s sons. The youths danced with the horns of their kills attached to hides. When the escapees and exiles from the prison colonies of New East Anglia were welcomed and absorbed into the indigenous family groups, the rite of passage became part of their traditions, also. Earth Humans grew in greater numbers than the native peoples and over the centuries the Ritual evolved from the original dance to become the vile charade practiced today.

Many believed the Ritual to encompass magic, but Gil knew that it was all science. Developed by an Earth Scientist named Mackey, specialized equipment rendered solid matter intangible, and then changed it back again in what Mackey called the Insubstantiation Process. One example of the process’s results was the huge, carnivorous Prince-Eaters that originally were peaceful water buffalo imported from Earth. The process was pushed further when the Insubstantiation Process during the Ritual interacted with the bodies of the Chosen and Prince Eaters so that they became insubstantial and eventually indistinguishable from each other. When the Chosen re-solidified as the Holy Prince, the horns were attached to him. The animals’ strength and instinct become woven into the essence of the Chosen and the beasts would be left empty shells that could barely stumble into the sacred circle where they died. Their curried hides were stained green, gold, and white, the royal colors of the Holy Prince, and hoisted as banners throughout Midhe Nuae. The meat itself turned rancid during the Insubstantiation Process, so servants disposed of it down the ravines or over the cliffs outside the city.

The pain inflicted on the Chosen was exorbitant but if done correctly and with absolute assurance that the horns penetrated only the Chosen’s chest and abdomen, the Ritual was not life-threatening. The Most Revered had several medicines to prepare the Chosen for the Ritual, to control the Chosen’s acute pain during the Ritual, to control the Holy Prince’s chronic pain afterward, and to control the Holy Prince for the rest of his life.

After tethering the stallion with a long rope, Gil slipped his war axe in the back of his belt, shouldered his crossbow and quiver, checked that his longsword was secure, and then jogged back to a stand of large boulders. He rooted out the blood umbrella vine that had started to grow over the rocks, stomped it into the ground, and then settled on top of the rocks so he would have a clear view of the entire field with Jon in the center. If predatory animals or opportunistic marauders came prowling, he would be able to deal with them quickly and efficiently. Individual pasture rats would be too small for him to notice, but he certainly would see them if a colony investigated the smell of blood, and he could deal with them from this location. If all went as expected, he would accomplish what he was tasked to do and be home long before First Sun.

©2022 Vera S. Scott