I.
"Kill it."
"That is not our place."
"It is a mercy. See how it is charred from the sun. Kill it and let us be gone from here." Ch'gra sniffed the air. She could not place the scent that rose on the northerly wind, but the fur rose on her back, all the same.
It was not safe here.
V'rlm sat on his fours beside the deformed and broken figure. He took into his hand one of the many large stones that lay bloodied around him. "They do this to their own people."
"It was probably a criminal, V'rlm, stoned for murder." Ch'gra leapt onto a high rock and surveyed the area, her haunches twitching, her fist clenched, her spear gripped tightly. Something to the north. "Now kill it or prolong its punishment. Either way, we go. Now."
V'rlm held up a hand. "A moment more."
He set his spear down, then reached to his right hip, where he kept his waterskin, and uncorked it. "It has survived many days. Perhaps we should let it live."
"I said now!"
Ch'gra growled as she pounced at the dying man from the high rock, her golden haunches gleaming, her spear aimed to pierce its chest, her fangs aimed to frighten V'rlm away.
But V'rlm was not afraid. He moved just as quickly, dropping his waterskin and snapping to position over the creature, two paws on either side, as if in defense of fallen prey. His growl was low.
Ch'gra struggled to redirect her spear in mid-air just short of V'rlm's neck, driving it into the sand. "Are you mad? Would you have your own blood spilled over this pitiful heap?"
"She-lion, you have caused us to spill that which is more precious than blood!" V'rlm replied, gesturing to the waterskin as it surrendered its treasure to the greedy sands.
Ch'gra glanced at the water, chastened. But she did not move.
"You mistake my kindness for weakness too often, Ch'gra, for it is you who are too weak to obey our orders! Raalgrr has said that we must slay no man in this place unless it is to defend ourselves."
"As you say, then." Ch'gra bared her teeth. "So let. us. go."
"Fine." V'rlm relaxed his stance, stepped away from the man, and scooped up the waterskin.
He stopped, then cleared his throat. "Just help me place him on my back."
Ch'gra's mouth fell open. She grabbed pulled her spear from the sand. "V'rlm, has the desert sun driven you mad? You cannot bring a man back to the pride."
"You are not of the order of the Lion God. You do not know our wisdom. Do not question this."
Ch'gra glanced north, hesitating. "Something is coming!"
"Then be quicker to do as I ask. For I will not leave this place without it."
II.
Their language came to his ears like roaring and growling, echoing through the caverns into his own little alcove, where he awoke, aching.
He did not know of hell, for the Bedine did not teach of such things. But he knew himself to be dead. And he knew from the growling and the darkness that his punishment was to continue.
He had heard a lion, once, as a child, when the tribe had attempted to camp at the Wadi Asad'huk. It was a fearful noise and in fear he attempted now to move from his spot on the cold, damp cavern floor. But he only got pain for his efforts. Sharp pains in his legs and his chest.
So it was, then. He would be perpetually devoured by lions. A suitable punishment, he thought, for a traitor.
So he closed his eyes again, and waited in the dark, not wishing to see the terrible beasts.
"This is your way? Close your eyes? Wait to die?"
He opened his eyes again, jumping a little, before wincing in pain. He squinted into the torchlight at a bare-chested figure near the far wall. A man?
He summoned his courage and spoke to the man, his voice rasping over a coarse, parched tongue: "You are the efrit of this place, then. In the form of a man. You oversee my punishment."
The figure chuckled. "The form of a man? Is that what you see through your tear-crusted eyes? Ah, but I forget. Men have trouble with the darkness."
With his left hand, he grabbed the little fading torch from the wall and drew it to him. "Does this help?"
This time, he did not jump or cry out. He merely gaped as he saw the full form of the creature.
It was a man, but it was a lion.
Its torso was upright, bare save for a medallion that hung down to its chest. Its face was like that of a man, but catlike in its form, with turned-up nostrils and large, slitted eyes. A mane of straight, reddish-brown hair shot chaotically in all directions from his head.
But rest of him was a great cat, lying in repose in the shadow of a nook, tail twitching, massive hindpaws casually crossed.
"I see, then," he frowned. "You are a man, to put me at ease. And you are a beast, to devour me." He lay his head back again. "This punishment is a little too creative, I think."
"Look once more, human. You have nothing to fear from me."
He watched as the Man-lion slowly, carefully, crawled from his alcove and stood before him in full view. Half man. Half lion.
But not whole. For his left foreleg was missing.
The young man's alarm turned to pity, as he sought the man-lion's eyes. The man-lion recognized pity when he saw it, and returned a little snarl.
"Thrice, you have looked upon me now. Each time, you have failed to see me as I am. I am R'ghtlic, the Lame. Servant of Nobanion. Loremaster of Raalgrr's Pride. You are under my protection."
Then, with a glance into the larger cavern where the growling continued, he added, "And you will need it."
.
The Twelve Lessons (I - XII, Epilogue)
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ewayneself
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The Twelve Lessons (I - XII, Epilogue)
Last edited by ewayneself on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:35 pm, edited 10 times in total.
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Brokenbone
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Very enjoyable writing!
ALFA NWN2 PCs: Rhaggot of the Bruised-Eye, and Bamshogbo
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
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ewayneself
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- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
III.
They pressed in on R'ghtlic as he stood in the entrance to his little cave, Ch'gra at the front, two others behind her.
"Welcome, Ch'gra. Have you come to share my bed?"
Ch'gra snarled. "You make light? Your acolyte is pathetic. This is what happens when a housecat goes out to prowl; he brings home vermin."
She looked over to the man lying in the dark. "Is it dead?"
R'ghtlic sighed. "It lives."
"We have brought this matter to the shaman. W'mruu says it does not belong here. It was meant to die and must be slain right away."
"Is that so? Then you will not mind if I hear this from W'mruu's own maw?"
"What is the need? It is the way of nature that the unfit must die. You know this."
"It is the way of Nobanion to help those who cannot help themselves."
"Nobanion did not mean to include humans. Especially Bedine. Move aside, Lame One."
R'ghtlic's roar shook the caverns. Even Ch'gra sat back on her hindpaws for a moment. But only for a moment.
Her swat was fierce. Blood flew from R'ghtlic's face.
The two rared up, grappling, but R'ghtlic soon fell, unable to keep his balance. Still, he placed his fall well, so that his massive body blocked the entrance to the little cavern.
Ch'gra pressed her advantage with bite and claw, standing over R'ghtlic, while her allies attempted to push their way in.
"Leave him alone!"
The voice was raspy and lacking for air, but it was unusual enough to be heard. Surprised, the man-beasts paused in their fight, turning to see the human, standing, propped by R'ghtlic's spear.
Ch'gra leapt from R'ghtlic to stand in front of the man, while her allies held the Lame One to the ground.
"Well. It speaks."
Quietly, she paced back and forth in front of the man. He faced her, following her movement with his stare, his chin set defiantly, but his brow knotted with fear and pain, his grip tight on the spear that supported his weight.
"I do not know its language. Or what it must have said."
Suddenly she reached out with a hand. He flinched, but she did not strike. Instead, she grabbed him by the face and looked in his eyes.
She paused, frowning, then sniffed at him.
"Probably a plea for mercy," she sneered.
Then she turned away, casually swatting the spear aside. He splayed roughly to the ground, his chin landing hard on the stone floor.
"When it can move again, we will take it to Raalgrr. Let our leader decide its fate."
They pressed in on R'ghtlic as he stood in the entrance to his little cave, Ch'gra at the front, two others behind her.
"Welcome, Ch'gra. Have you come to share my bed?"
Ch'gra snarled. "You make light? Your acolyte is pathetic. This is what happens when a housecat goes out to prowl; he brings home vermin."
She looked over to the man lying in the dark. "Is it dead?"
R'ghtlic sighed. "It lives."
"We have brought this matter to the shaman. W'mruu says it does not belong here. It was meant to die and must be slain right away."
"Is that so? Then you will not mind if I hear this from W'mruu's own maw?"
"What is the need? It is the way of nature that the unfit must die. You know this."
"It is the way of Nobanion to help those who cannot help themselves."
"Nobanion did not mean to include humans. Especially Bedine. Move aside, Lame One."
R'ghtlic's roar shook the caverns. Even Ch'gra sat back on her hindpaws for a moment. But only for a moment.
Her swat was fierce. Blood flew from R'ghtlic's face.
The two rared up, grappling, but R'ghtlic soon fell, unable to keep his balance. Still, he placed his fall well, so that his massive body blocked the entrance to the little cavern.
Ch'gra pressed her advantage with bite and claw, standing over R'ghtlic, while her allies attempted to push their way in.
"Leave him alone!"
The voice was raspy and lacking for air, but it was unusual enough to be heard. Surprised, the man-beasts paused in their fight, turning to see the human, standing, propped by R'ghtlic's spear.
Ch'gra leapt from R'ghtlic to stand in front of the man, while her allies held the Lame One to the ground.
"Well. It speaks."
Quietly, she paced back and forth in front of the man. He faced her, following her movement with his stare, his chin set defiantly, but his brow knotted with fear and pain, his grip tight on the spear that supported his weight.
"I do not know its language. Or what it must have said."
Suddenly she reached out with a hand. He flinched, but she did not strike. Instead, she grabbed him by the face and looked in his eyes.
She paused, frowning, then sniffed at him.
"Probably a plea for mercy," she sneered.
Then she turned away, casually swatting the spear aside. He splayed roughly to the ground, his chin landing hard on the stone floor.
"When it can move again, we will take it to Raalgrr. Let our leader decide its fate."
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ewayneself
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IV.
He didn't know how long he slept, or how long it took him to gain enough strength to walk. But the night finally came when he could leave the little alcove, supported only by R'ghtlic's spear, and walk with him up the damp slope toward the cavern entrance.
He sniffed at the breeze as R'ghtlic did, and he emerged from the tight spaces into a flat clearing, surrounded by mountainous rock on all sides.
"We call this place Flat Rock." R'ghtlic gestured to the smooth, flat rock that dominated the clearing, glinting brightly, even in the starlight.
Starlight. He looked up and dared to smile. A multitude of heavenly jewels brightened the sky, like sand on ebon cloth.
It was his first glimpse of the sky since the night he watched his father murder and steal. Since the night he betrayed his people. His smile faded as he saw himself standing again to be judged.
But this time was different. This time, there was someone to speak for him. He looked up at R'ghtlic, who even now had a hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, as a great beast strode from its cave high in the far wall.
The beast paused a moment, surveying the clearing of the Flat Rock, and all of the Lion-Men who waited there, arranged in a semicircle before the Flat Rock.
He made his way slowly down the little path. He was different from the others. Larger. Still a Lion-Man, but his face more like that of a lion, with chops and whiskers, and ears more feline in shape, and nearer the top of his head. All fell silent as he casually took his place atop the Flat Rock, then went into a thoughtful repose. Raalgrr.
There was no effort in his rumbling, yet its volume was undeniable. "We are here to discuss the matter of the Human. I had hoped that the gods would decide this thing for us, by letting him die from his wounds."
R'ghtlic steeped forward immediately, breaking the semi-circle to hobble to a position only a few feet fro Raalgrh. "Begging your pardon, Prideleader, but they did decide. They let him live."
"Only with our assistance!" Ch'gra strode forward, unwilling to let R'ghtlic press his case. "It would not survive three days if it had to live as we do, without aid!"
R'ghtlic's reply was swift. "Neither would your cubs, Ch'gra. Would you have us kill them, too?"
The lions about them roared and grumbled at this. Ch'gra went up on her hind legs, menacingly, but did not attack. R'ghtlic did not seem to notice.
"What is your name, human?", he asked in the language of the Lion-Men.
R'ghtlic turned to him and spoke in Uloushinn, the tongue of the Bedine, the first words he understood in this entire proceeding. "Tell him your name."
"I have no name", he said loudly, in Uloushinn.
To the tongue of the Lion-Men, this sounded like "Tarul n'sahar", and so Raalgrr said, "Tarul, then. Speak for yourself, Tarul, through R'ghtlic. Tell me why we should spare you."
Realizing he was being addressed, Tarul hesitated, then stepped forward. Amidst surprised mutterings, Tarul guided himself to a position between the two great man-beasts and frowned up at Raalgrr.
His fear had given way to anger. And though his legs shook, his voice did not: "Why do you Lion Men talk so much? It hurts my head to hear you growl so. If you wish me dead, then kill me, for it is my rightful punishment. But hold no fault toward R'ghtlic, for he does not know that I am a traitor and a criminal."
Raalgrr paused, then looked to R'ghtlic. "What did he say?"
"It...is difficult to understand his language. And he speaks quickly. And his throat still heals. But I think he wishes to be done with this. To have the decision made."
Raalgrr nodded. "That is fair. Is there any other who wishes to speak?"
R'ghtlic returned to the formation. Ch'gra returned to her place as well, then bared her teeth a little. A smile?
"W'mruu will speak." Ch'gra gestured to another high cave, where another Lion-Man stood, outlined by the starry sky.
His silhouette suggested a headdress or a mask. He held in his hand an instrument, which he shook to make a noise that sounded to the human like sand in a dry cookpoot. The shadowy Lion-Man chanted, and the others bowed their heads. Even R'ghtlic. Even Raalgrr.
Like spider is man. Where one is seen, in shadow lurk the others.
Like rat is man. Let one escape, it soon returns with brothers.
Like pup is man. Despite your scorn, follows for no reason.
Like ape is man. Though food is scarce, it mates in every season.
Like snake is man. It carries poison everywhere it goes.
Like locust is man. Swarming, starving, eating all that grows.
Like swine is man. Where they make their waste, they also feed.
Like devil is man. Fools will deal and bargain without need.
Then he spoke: "Raalgrr! It is not for nothing that we came to this mountain! Remember the lessons that brought us to seclusion! Let it leave here alive and we will live in secret no more! We will be hounded from this place!"
W'mruu then immediately went down upon his stomach, on the little outcropping before his cave. From his high place, he watched the others in their semi-circle, arranged around Raalgrr, Ch'gra smiling, the others reverently standing in silence.
No, not silence. Not truly. For the human could just barely hear R'ghtlic beside him, murmuring. And he could see, perhaps, in the starlight, one of Raalgrr's ears turned R'ghtlic's way.
For a long moment, Raalgrr sat still. Then he said "Step forward, Tarul."
With a head to the back, R'ghtlic nudged him forward. Again, the human now called Tarul approached the Flat Rock.
Raalgrr spoke. "Ch'gra. You said the human would not survive as one of us. We will put your words to the test. It will be for him as it is for us. He will train, hunt, feed, and raid as we do. He will learn as our cubs learn. He will live as we do, or he will die. So it will be."
Ch'gra was stunned. "Raalgrr, this is not right! You must--"
The hiss from W'mruu froze her words.
From above, he said. "You ask for Raalgrr's ruling, then dare to question it? Begone from the circle. You shame me."
Reddened from the public chastening, Ch'gra slunk away, but not before shooting one last secret, vicious scowl at the one called "Tarul".
.
He didn't know how long he slept, or how long it took him to gain enough strength to walk. But the night finally came when he could leave the little alcove, supported only by R'ghtlic's spear, and walk with him up the damp slope toward the cavern entrance.
He sniffed at the breeze as R'ghtlic did, and he emerged from the tight spaces into a flat clearing, surrounded by mountainous rock on all sides.
"We call this place Flat Rock." R'ghtlic gestured to the smooth, flat rock that dominated the clearing, glinting brightly, even in the starlight.
Starlight. He looked up and dared to smile. A multitude of heavenly jewels brightened the sky, like sand on ebon cloth.
It was his first glimpse of the sky since the night he watched his father murder and steal. Since the night he betrayed his people. His smile faded as he saw himself standing again to be judged.
But this time was different. This time, there was someone to speak for him. He looked up at R'ghtlic, who even now had a hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, as a great beast strode from its cave high in the far wall.
The beast paused a moment, surveying the clearing of the Flat Rock, and all of the Lion-Men who waited there, arranged in a semicircle before the Flat Rock.
He made his way slowly down the little path. He was different from the others. Larger. Still a Lion-Man, but his face more like that of a lion, with chops and whiskers, and ears more feline in shape, and nearer the top of his head. All fell silent as he casually took his place atop the Flat Rock, then went into a thoughtful repose. Raalgrr.
There was no effort in his rumbling, yet its volume was undeniable. "We are here to discuss the matter of the Human. I had hoped that the gods would decide this thing for us, by letting him die from his wounds."
R'ghtlic steeped forward immediately, breaking the semi-circle to hobble to a position only a few feet fro Raalgrh. "Begging your pardon, Prideleader, but they did decide. They let him live."
"Only with our assistance!" Ch'gra strode forward, unwilling to let R'ghtlic press his case. "It would not survive three days if it had to live as we do, without aid!"
R'ghtlic's reply was swift. "Neither would your cubs, Ch'gra. Would you have us kill them, too?"
The lions about them roared and grumbled at this. Ch'gra went up on her hind legs, menacingly, but did not attack. R'ghtlic did not seem to notice.
"What is your name, human?", he asked in the language of the Lion-Men.
R'ghtlic turned to him and spoke in Uloushinn, the tongue of the Bedine, the first words he understood in this entire proceeding. "Tell him your name."
"I have no name", he said loudly, in Uloushinn.
To the tongue of the Lion-Men, this sounded like "Tarul n'sahar", and so Raalgrr said, "Tarul, then. Speak for yourself, Tarul, through R'ghtlic. Tell me why we should spare you."
Realizing he was being addressed, Tarul hesitated, then stepped forward. Amidst surprised mutterings, Tarul guided himself to a position between the two great man-beasts and frowned up at Raalgrr.
His fear had given way to anger. And though his legs shook, his voice did not: "Why do you Lion Men talk so much? It hurts my head to hear you growl so. If you wish me dead, then kill me, for it is my rightful punishment. But hold no fault toward R'ghtlic, for he does not know that I am a traitor and a criminal."
Raalgrr paused, then looked to R'ghtlic. "What did he say?"
"It...is difficult to understand his language. And he speaks quickly. And his throat still heals. But I think he wishes to be done with this. To have the decision made."
Raalgrr nodded. "That is fair. Is there any other who wishes to speak?"
R'ghtlic returned to the formation. Ch'gra returned to her place as well, then bared her teeth a little. A smile?
"W'mruu will speak." Ch'gra gestured to another high cave, where another Lion-Man stood, outlined by the starry sky.
His silhouette suggested a headdress or a mask. He held in his hand an instrument, which he shook to make a noise that sounded to the human like sand in a dry cookpoot. The shadowy Lion-Man chanted, and the others bowed their heads. Even R'ghtlic. Even Raalgrr.
Like spider is man. Where one is seen, in shadow lurk the others.
Like rat is man. Let one escape, it soon returns with brothers.
Like pup is man. Despite your scorn, follows for no reason.
Like ape is man. Though food is scarce, it mates in every season.
Like snake is man. It carries poison everywhere it goes.
Like locust is man. Swarming, starving, eating all that grows.
Like swine is man. Where they make their waste, they also feed.
Like devil is man. Fools will deal and bargain without need.
Then he spoke: "Raalgrr! It is not for nothing that we came to this mountain! Remember the lessons that brought us to seclusion! Let it leave here alive and we will live in secret no more! We will be hounded from this place!"
W'mruu then immediately went down upon his stomach, on the little outcropping before his cave. From his high place, he watched the others in their semi-circle, arranged around Raalgrr, Ch'gra smiling, the others reverently standing in silence.
No, not silence. Not truly. For the human could just barely hear R'ghtlic beside him, murmuring. And he could see, perhaps, in the starlight, one of Raalgrr's ears turned R'ghtlic's way.
For a long moment, Raalgrr sat still. Then he said "Step forward, Tarul."
With a head to the back, R'ghtlic nudged him forward. Again, the human now called Tarul approached the Flat Rock.
Raalgrr spoke. "Ch'gra. You said the human would not survive as one of us. We will put your words to the test. It will be for him as it is for us. He will train, hunt, feed, and raid as we do. He will learn as our cubs learn. He will live as we do, or he will die. So it will be."
Ch'gra was stunned. "Raalgrr, this is not right! You must--"
The hiss from W'mruu froze her words.
From above, he said. "You ask for Raalgrr's ruling, then dare to question it? Begone from the circle. You shame me."
Reddened from the public chastening, Ch'gra slunk away, but not before shooting one last secret, vicious scowl at the one called "Tarul".
.
Excellent and enjoyable!
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raiseSwift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.
"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
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ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
V.
"Where are we going?"
"To the summit. There is much I wish to show you."
R'ghtlic limped along the upward pathway, using his spear as support to replace his missing foreleg, occasionally stopping to adjust the strap on the deerhide pack that hung across is shoulder. Together, they wound steadily higher up the mountainside, R'ghtlic ahead on the narrow way, and Tarul following, listening closely to hear above the swift winds.
"In the common tongue of men, we are called Wemics. Many of our kind hunt the place called The Shining Plains and stalk along the Vilhon Reach. But this Pride prefers the mountains. We live here, hidden, far removed from the others."
"Why? Are you ulutarr?"
"No, no. We do not speak of the reason, but we are not outcast." He stopped and turned, fixing the man with a thoughtful gaze. "Are you?"
"Yes. No." The young man sighed. "I was meant to die, not live in exile. My people forbid suicide, and your people will not kill me. In saving me, you have denied me a righteous death."
"Well. Perhaps in time we can find you another one."
R'ghtlic resumed the arduous climb. The young man craned his neck to see the mountain tower above him. He saw no summit at all. To his right was a wall of rock. To his left was a startling drop. In the distance were more mountains. He could see nothing but rock and cloud and the swishing of a Wemic's tail ahead of him.
"Our ruler is Raalgrr, who is just and wise. The one who spoke from the high cave was W'mruu, our shaman. His ways are more...feral. It is best for you not to go near him."
"And...and the She-Lion?"
"There are many She-Lions, but the one you ask of is Ch'gra, our best hunter and fiercest warrior. For her prowess, she is favored of W'mruu and has a position of honor within the Pride."
"Do none of them speak the tongue of men?"
"As Loremaster, it is my duty alone to know the tongues of human and elf, to keep in my heart the chronicles and generations of our Pride, and to deal with the outside world."
The air thinned as they walked up, up into the fog. The young man's Bedine legs had never walked in places so steep or rough. Even at this slow pace, the lack of air and abundance of rock was grueling to him.
"So...I will learn your tongue?"
A wemic chuckle is like a hiss combined with a growl. It does not sound happy to human ears. "You cannot learn our tongue because your mouth will not allow you to make the sounds."
"Then how will I speak to the others?"
"Only through me."
"How will I live among them if I cannot speak to them?"
"There is much that can be communicated without words, Nameless One. Did you not tell our Pridelord that we talk to much anyway?"
The young man's ears turned pink, but he could hear the mirth in R'ghtlic's voice.
"I meant only to say that you argue a lot. My people do not vex one another so, for we do as our Shiekh instructs."
"Do not mistake debate for disloyalty. We are joined with together in purpose, in devotion, and in service to Nobanion."
"Nobanion?"
"Yes, may his name be praised. The Lion God. King of Lions and Strong Beasts. He whose fearsome roar and shining mane set the tyrant atremble. Elohim."
Tarul spat on the rocky trail. "The gods do not come to the desert, unless it is to practice their smiting. Will I be required to worship Nobanion if I am to be one of you?"
R'ghtlic said nothing to this. He merely continued his slow hike up the steep trail, pausing occasionally to rest.
In the mountain fog, Tarul lowered his head, minding only his footsteps and the padding of the great cat before him. When he thought he could take not another step, he heard R'ghtlic's voice.
"The path ends here."
Tarul could see nearly nothing in the fog, but he could tell from the steep slope to his left and the rock before him that R'ghtlic was right. This was a dead end.
"What is it, then, that you wished to show me?"
"I said the path was ended. I did not say we had arrived at our destination."
"Did you take a wrong turn?"
Without another word, R'ghtlic crouched low, then sprang suddenly upward, into the fog, bounding high up the cliff using the barest of outcroppings.
For a long moment, the young man stood in silence, gazing upward into the fog.
"Are you coming?" R'ghtlic's voice came from far above.
"How?" Tarul yelled into the fog. "I cannot leap or climb as Wemics do!"
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because I am not a Wemic!"
"Indeed. You are not."
Then Tarul faintly heard a rustling of air, as if something were dropping.
Instinctively, he stepped aside just in time to dodge R'ghtlic's pack, which fell open onto the rocky path, revealing rope and a hook.
"So climb as men do."
.
"Where are we going?"
"To the summit. There is much I wish to show you."
R'ghtlic limped along the upward pathway, using his spear as support to replace his missing foreleg, occasionally stopping to adjust the strap on the deerhide pack that hung across is shoulder. Together, they wound steadily higher up the mountainside, R'ghtlic ahead on the narrow way, and Tarul following, listening closely to hear above the swift winds.
"In the common tongue of men, we are called Wemics. Many of our kind hunt the place called The Shining Plains and stalk along the Vilhon Reach. But this Pride prefers the mountains. We live here, hidden, far removed from the others."
"Why? Are you ulutarr?"
"No, no. We do not speak of the reason, but we are not outcast." He stopped and turned, fixing the man with a thoughtful gaze. "Are you?"
"Yes. No." The young man sighed. "I was meant to die, not live in exile. My people forbid suicide, and your people will not kill me. In saving me, you have denied me a righteous death."
"Well. Perhaps in time we can find you another one."
R'ghtlic resumed the arduous climb. The young man craned his neck to see the mountain tower above him. He saw no summit at all. To his right was a wall of rock. To his left was a startling drop. In the distance were more mountains. He could see nothing but rock and cloud and the swishing of a Wemic's tail ahead of him.
"Our ruler is Raalgrr, who is just and wise. The one who spoke from the high cave was W'mruu, our shaman. His ways are more...feral. It is best for you not to go near him."
"And...and the She-Lion?"
"There are many She-Lions, but the one you ask of is Ch'gra, our best hunter and fiercest warrior. For her prowess, she is favored of W'mruu and has a position of honor within the Pride."
"Do none of them speak the tongue of men?"
"As Loremaster, it is my duty alone to know the tongues of human and elf, to keep in my heart the chronicles and generations of our Pride, and to deal with the outside world."
The air thinned as they walked up, up into the fog. The young man's Bedine legs had never walked in places so steep or rough. Even at this slow pace, the lack of air and abundance of rock was grueling to him.
"So...I will learn your tongue?"
A wemic chuckle is like a hiss combined with a growl. It does not sound happy to human ears. "You cannot learn our tongue because your mouth will not allow you to make the sounds."
"Then how will I speak to the others?"
"Only through me."
"How will I live among them if I cannot speak to them?"
"There is much that can be communicated without words, Nameless One. Did you not tell our Pridelord that we talk to much anyway?"
The young man's ears turned pink, but he could hear the mirth in R'ghtlic's voice.
"I meant only to say that you argue a lot. My people do not vex one another so, for we do as our Shiekh instructs."
"Do not mistake debate for disloyalty. We are joined with together in purpose, in devotion, and in service to Nobanion."
"Nobanion?"
"Yes, may his name be praised. The Lion God. King of Lions and Strong Beasts. He whose fearsome roar and shining mane set the tyrant atremble. Elohim."
Tarul spat on the rocky trail. "The gods do not come to the desert, unless it is to practice their smiting. Will I be required to worship Nobanion if I am to be one of you?"
R'ghtlic said nothing to this. He merely continued his slow hike up the steep trail, pausing occasionally to rest.
In the mountain fog, Tarul lowered his head, minding only his footsteps and the padding of the great cat before him. When he thought he could take not another step, he heard R'ghtlic's voice.
"The path ends here."
Tarul could see nearly nothing in the fog, but he could tell from the steep slope to his left and the rock before him that R'ghtlic was right. This was a dead end.
"What is it, then, that you wished to show me?"
"I said the path was ended. I did not say we had arrived at our destination."
"Did you take a wrong turn?"
Without another word, R'ghtlic crouched low, then sprang suddenly upward, into the fog, bounding high up the cliff using the barest of outcroppings.
For a long moment, the young man stood in silence, gazing upward into the fog.
"Are you coming?" R'ghtlic's voice came from far above.
"How?" Tarul yelled into the fog. "I cannot leap or climb as Wemics do!"
"Oh? Why not?"
"Because I am not a Wemic!"
"Indeed. You are not."
Then Tarul faintly heard a rustling of air, as if something were dropping.
Instinctively, he stepped aside just in time to dodge R'ghtlic's pack, which fell open onto the rocky path, revealing rope and a hook.
"So climb as men do."
.
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Brokenbone
- Chosen of Forumamus, God of Forums
- Posts: 5771
- Joined: Mon May 16, 2005 1:07 am
- Location: London, Ontario, Canada
Half the fun is trying to pick out the lessons!
Look forward to more.
Look forward to more.
ALFA NWN2 PCs: Rhaggot of the Bruised-Eye, and Bamshogbo
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
ALFA NWN1 PC: Jacobim Foxmantle
ALFA NWN1 Dead PC: Jon Shieldjack
DMA Staff
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ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
VI.
R'ightlic lay in repose. His tail did not twtch. His forepaw did not move, unless he wished to occasionally examine a claw. He contentedly memorized the new Bedine curses he was learning, for they could be useful someday.
The swears came from below, where the human grunted and yelled as he climbed, his clambering feet sending rocks to the foggy valley below. He held tightly to the rope, swinging sometimes away from the mountain face, or sometimes turned around and unable to climb at all.
R'ghtlic gave a mighty "grawr" of a yawn, then examined the sky a moment. Midday was approaching. Ah well. There was time. The fog still lingered, anyway.
The wemic looked approvingly at the flat ledge. And ledge it was, but more. It was narrow where he sat, edging from the western slope of the pointed summit, but then it rounded a good portion of the mountain's peak, jutting far out from its northern and eastern slopes, so that one could walk on the flat place and see in nearly every direction.
Tarul struggled long against the side of the mountain until one bleeding hand at last reached up to grab flat ground, and then another.
R'ghtlic wanly watched as Tarul pulled himself with great effort onto the ledge and curled up on his side, eyes closed, facing toward the mountain.
The young man gasped for air until his breathing slowed at last. Then then, eyes still closed, he removed the big deerhide satchel from his shoulder, sliding it to R'ghtlic. "Your pack."
"No. It is yours now. And all that is in it." R'ghtlic's voice was a gentle purr. "Look and see."
Tarul hesitated. He slowly drew himself up to first clean his bloody hands on the the loincloth he wore, then open the satchel to look inside.
There was coin; twenty, perhaps. And a torch. Flint and steel. A vial of oil. A little leather string with a wooden whistle tied to it. And a long bundle wrapped in muslin.
"You will live as we do, but you are not like us. These are the things you will require, if you wish to survive. Coins, for your body will not thrive on meat alone. Fire, for your eyes will not see in the dark. A whistle, for your mouth will not roar if you are lost. And one other thing. Unwrap it."
Tarul did as he was told and unwrapped the muslin, revealing a scimitar, clean and glistening, but hilt worn with age.
"A blade, for your claws will harm nothing."
Tarul was stunned. "This...this was my father's aziir. And his father's. It is the only metal weapon our family owns. It has seen seventy upon seventy battles. It has spilled much blood. Captured many women."
Tarul looked up, suddenly, scowling. "Where did you get this?"
R'gtlic straightened a little, taken aback by the boy's reaction. "V'rlm found it. When he and Ch'gra found you in the desert. It lay beneath you, wrapped in cloth, just as you see it now."
"But... My father would never--." Tarul's confused expression turned plainly into a sick one. "Oh. No, no. Fatima! Foolish girl!"
"Fatima?"
"My sister. Only she would do this for me. She stole this from my father and hid it with me as I lay in the desert. If she was caught--."
"Do not worry, human." If she was caught, you would not still have the sword.
"But my father would miss it quickly. He could suspect her! I must--"
"Nameless One, calm yourself. Look."
R'ghtlic pointed west, and the man turned to see.
The morning fog had burned away while Tarul rested. By now the sun was high in the sky, presiding over a clear day. The desert gleamed in the daylight like a great flat mirror, stretching as far as he could see.
"There." R'ghtlic spoke softly. "See that patch of green and blue? That is the Wadi Asad'huk. We spend our winters there, sometimes. And over there, far to the north of it, is the Wadi Hasi. Do you see it? And see, far in the distance, past the Asad'huk, the place where the horizon has fingers? That is the Place of Standing Stone. That is where Ch'gra and V'rlm found you."
Tarul stood awestruck, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed at the faraway horizon.
"Nameless One, you are far from your people now. You can do nothing for your sister."
Tarul bowed his head, holding the scimitar by its grip. "Fatima."
R'ghtlic placed a hand on his shoulder. "You call her foolish, but she seems wise to me. She had faith that you would survive, and she gave feet to her faith, through her actions. Be proud of her."
Tarul stood watching the desert for a long moment.
"What do you see?" R'ghtlic asked.
"The whole world. All I have known. Lost to me."
"The whole world?" R'ghtlic smiled. "Come here." R'ghtlic bid Tarul to walk along the ledge, around the peak of the mountain, so that they faced East. They stood in the high winds on the furthest reach of the ledge, Tarul gaping at the landscape, his scimitar still in hand.
Laid out before them was a land as misty as the desert was bright, as lush as the desert was barren, as verdant as the desert was brown.
"Over there. See the black stink that rises? That is where the humans live. Where the dagger falls. And there is the forbidden forest, where the elves and the fairy folk abide. And the plains, where they plant their crops and tend them, a new harvest each season. See those rivers? Their banks are wet with water throughout the year, and they abound with fish. If you float a boat of bark on that river, it will go to the sea and land on faraway shores."
"It is like paradise."
"Those who live there would not say so. For it lacks peace. And virgins."
"I have never heard of such a place, in this world."
"Most Bedine have not."
Tarul scowled. "I am not Bedine."
"Oh? You speak Bedine language."
Tarul looked vexed, "I know no other."
"You scorn the Gods, like Bedine."
Tarul scowled. "The Gods have taught me no better!"
R'ghtlic sniffed. "You smell like Bedine."
Tarul raged, brandishing the sword, "Do not mock! I have denied my father's ways!"
"How? They are the only ways you know."
"Then...then I will learn new ways! Your ways."
R'ghtlic looked skeptical. "My way is the way of devotion, human. And you are Bedine."
"I am not Bedine!"
"You speak rashly. In haste. Emotion guides your speech, not commitment."
Tarul stood for awhile, clutching the scimitar, scowling at R'ghtlic, who seemed unmoved by the little man's anger.
Then, in a suddenly swift motion, Tarul turned and hurled the sword from the mountaintop.
.
R'ightlic lay in repose. His tail did not twtch. His forepaw did not move, unless he wished to occasionally examine a claw. He contentedly memorized the new Bedine curses he was learning, for they could be useful someday.
The swears came from below, where the human grunted and yelled as he climbed, his clambering feet sending rocks to the foggy valley below. He held tightly to the rope, swinging sometimes away from the mountain face, or sometimes turned around and unable to climb at all.
R'ghtlic gave a mighty "grawr" of a yawn, then examined the sky a moment. Midday was approaching. Ah well. There was time. The fog still lingered, anyway.
The wemic looked approvingly at the flat ledge. And ledge it was, but more. It was narrow where he sat, edging from the western slope of the pointed summit, but then it rounded a good portion of the mountain's peak, jutting far out from its northern and eastern slopes, so that one could walk on the flat place and see in nearly every direction.
Tarul struggled long against the side of the mountain until one bleeding hand at last reached up to grab flat ground, and then another.
R'ghtlic wanly watched as Tarul pulled himself with great effort onto the ledge and curled up on his side, eyes closed, facing toward the mountain.
The young man gasped for air until his breathing slowed at last. Then then, eyes still closed, he removed the big deerhide satchel from his shoulder, sliding it to R'ghtlic. "Your pack."
"No. It is yours now. And all that is in it." R'ghtlic's voice was a gentle purr. "Look and see."
Tarul hesitated. He slowly drew himself up to first clean his bloody hands on the the loincloth he wore, then open the satchel to look inside.
There was coin; twenty, perhaps. And a torch. Flint and steel. A vial of oil. A little leather string with a wooden whistle tied to it. And a long bundle wrapped in muslin.
"You will live as we do, but you are not like us. These are the things you will require, if you wish to survive. Coins, for your body will not thrive on meat alone. Fire, for your eyes will not see in the dark. A whistle, for your mouth will not roar if you are lost. And one other thing. Unwrap it."
Tarul did as he was told and unwrapped the muslin, revealing a scimitar, clean and glistening, but hilt worn with age.
"A blade, for your claws will harm nothing."
Tarul was stunned. "This...this was my father's aziir. And his father's. It is the only metal weapon our family owns. It has seen seventy upon seventy battles. It has spilled much blood. Captured many women."
Tarul looked up, suddenly, scowling. "Where did you get this?"
R'gtlic straightened a little, taken aback by the boy's reaction. "V'rlm found it. When he and Ch'gra found you in the desert. It lay beneath you, wrapped in cloth, just as you see it now."
"But... My father would never--." Tarul's confused expression turned plainly into a sick one. "Oh. No, no. Fatima! Foolish girl!"
"Fatima?"
"My sister. Only she would do this for me. She stole this from my father and hid it with me as I lay in the desert. If she was caught--."
"Do not worry, human." If she was caught, you would not still have the sword.
"But my father would miss it quickly. He could suspect her! I must--"
"Nameless One, calm yourself. Look."
R'ghtlic pointed west, and the man turned to see.
The morning fog had burned away while Tarul rested. By now the sun was high in the sky, presiding over a clear day. The desert gleamed in the daylight like a great flat mirror, stretching as far as he could see.
"There." R'ghtlic spoke softly. "See that patch of green and blue? That is the Wadi Asad'huk. We spend our winters there, sometimes. And over there, far to the north of it, is the Wadi Hasi. Do you see it? And see, far in the distance, past the Asad'huk, the place where the horizon has fingers? That is the Place of Standing Stone. That is where Ch'gra and V'rlm found you."
Tarul stood awestruck, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed at the faraway horizon.
"Nameless One, you are far from your people now. You can do nothing for your sister."
Tarul bowed his head, holding the scimitar by its grip. "Fatima."
R'ghtlic placed a hand on his shoulder. "You call her foolish, but she seems wise to me. She had faith that you would survive, and she gave feet to her faith, through her actions. Be proud of her."
Tarul stood watching the desert for a long moment.
"What do you see?" R'ghtlic asked.
"The whole world. All I have known. Lost to me."
"The whole world?" R'ghtlic smiled. "Come here." R'ghtlic bid Tarul to walk along the ledge, around the peak of the mountain, so that they faced East. They stood in the high winds on the furthest reach of the ledge, Tarul gaping at the landscape, his scimitar still in hand.
Laid out before them was a land as misty as the desert was bright, as lush as the desert was barren, as verdant as the desert was brown.
"Over there. See the black stink that rises? That is where the humans live. Where the dagger falls. And there is the forbidden forest, where the elves and the fairy folk abide. And the plains, where they plant their crops and tend them, a new harvest each season. See those rivers? Their banks are wet with water throughout the year, and they abound with fish. If you float a boat of bark on that river, it will go to the sea and land on faraway shores."
"It is like paradise."
"Those who live there would not say so. For it lacks peace. And virgins."
"I have never heard of such a place, in this world."
"Most Bedine have not."
Tarul scowled. "I am not Bedine."
"Oh? You speak Bedine language."
Tarul looked vexed, "I know no other."
"You scorn the Gods, like Bedine."
Tarul scowled. "The Gods have taught me no better!"
R'ghtlic sniffed. "You smell like Bedine."
Tarul raged, brandishing the sword, "Do not mock! I have denied my father's ways!"
"How? They are the only ways you know."
"Then...then I will learn new ways! Your ways."
R'ghtlic looked skeptical. "My way is the way of devotion, human. And you are Bedine."
"I am not Bedine!"
"You speak rashly. In haste. Emotion guides your speech, not commitment."
Tarul stood for awhile, clutching the scimitar, scowling at R'ghtlic, who seemed unmoved by the little man's anger.
Then, in a suddenly swift motion, Tarul turned and hurled the sword from the mountaintop.
.
-
RangerDeWood
- Ogre
- Posts: 633
- Joined: Sun Jan 11, 2004 6:03 am
- Location: Pittsburgh, PA
- Contact:
Aw naw he di'n't
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ewayneself
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 183
- Joined: Tue Aug 02, 2005 6:41 am
VII.
VII.
Tarul watched from above while Ch'gra crouched, perfectly still, in the brush and brambles. They hunted near the little spring called the Spring of Songs, for its music echoed from the high cliff walls that surrounded it.
The mountain goat looked around carefully before he took his timid steps to the little pool where the water collected. He drank unmolested, then turned away.
That's when Ch'gra struck. She was a blur to Tarul's watching eyes. In a single swift pounce she leapt forward, her spear piercing the place behind the ram's shoulder before it was truly aware it had happened. A perfect kill.
The waters overflowed from the pool into a swift-running rivulet that ran between two high mountains. Ch'gra dipped her spear in the running water, as she carefully looked around for predators who would steal her work. The tip was metal, with a wicked point. Tarul looked sadly at his own spear--a long pointy stick, more for walking than anything else.
On Ch'gra's signal, Tarul came down from his hiding place. They did not speak, for it was neither possible nor necessary. By now, he had worked with Ch'gra enough to know his role. They go in twos or threes. One to hunt and protect. One to dress the kill and defend it. And sometimes one to carry it, depending on the terrain. He was the carrier.
Tarul kneeled down and turned the ram so some of the blood would drain more quickly. Then he set to work, removing leather string from his satchel, tying the rear hooves to one end of his spear and the fore hooves to the other. With a grunt, he lifted the staff onto his shoulders and followed after Ch'gra.
It was autumn. He wore a few hides to against the chill of the caves, but he rarely felt cold outdoors due to the heat from his own labors. He had always been lean from his scant Bedine diet, but now his form was taut and muscled from many months of difficult work.
Ch'gra made no effort to communicate, or even to slow her steps for the human as she skipped easily over the rocks. They followed the little river south toward the place where it would widen into a tiny valley. There, V'rlm--R'ghtlic's acolyte and apprentice who had found the dying human in the desert--waited to dress the kill. He shifted the weight. They had ventured far for this meat. It would be a long walk.
Tarul's eyes scanned the ground as they went. He did not prefer to hunt with the fearsome she-lion. Why invite trouble? But this was a special case; the hunting ground today was an area of particular interest to Tarul.
He smiled a little, remembering R'ghtlic's words that day on the mountaintop, after Tarul had flung his own aziir from the summit. It was the first time he had seen the old Loremaster surprised.
For a long moment, R'ghtlic peered over the edge, into the mists below. Then lifted his gaze back to the human. "You did this, why?"
"I said it, already," Tarul replied, "I have denied the ways of my father."
"And that aziir. It represented those ways."
The young man said nothing.
"I taunted you, and so you meant to show me that you were serious."
The young man said nothing. A slow, proud smile crossed R'ghtlic's lips. After a moment of uncertainty--smile and leer are very similar on the face of a wemic--Tarul returned the smile. They stood, happily regarding each other for a moment. Then R'ghtlic broke the silence.
"You'll have to go get it, of course."
Tarul gaped. "What?"
"We are wemics of Nobanion. We waste nothing, metal least of all. It is too scarce to be flung haphazardly about. Do you expect to do your work by tooth and nail? We can loan weapons for your training, but they cannot be spared for hunting, for others will be using them. You cannot not hunt or defend for the Pride until you have retrieved your blade."
R'ghtlic peered over the edge again. "Difficult to say where it went. Perhaps the valley floor. Perhaps the Spring of Songs. Or perhaps into the Ravine. Finding it will be a tremendous task."
R'ghtlic looked up at Tarul again, saying nothing. Tarul stood there. R'ghtlic kept looking. Tarul kept standing, wondering by now what R'ghtlic wanted him to do or say.
"Oh!" Tarul said, with sudden realization. Then, sheepishly, "I had better get started, then."
Of course he did not find it that day, or the next, or on any subsequent search. He would always be the Bearer of the Pointy Stick, the Carcass-Carrier, unless he found that blade. And so he volunteered to go with any hunting party that ventured into the places where it might have fallen. Even Ch'gra's hunting party.
Ch'gra stopped suddenly, short of the clearing where V'rlm waited, signaling Tarul to drop his burden and approach with caution.
Tarul crouched low and did as he was told, following Ch'gra's gaze.
Ahead of them, in the little valley, sat a giant, picking his toes with one hand and gnawing a bone with the other. His forehead was sloped and dented on one side. His underbite was tragic. The shape of his nose was sickeningly comical. To his left sat a fearsomely large club.
To his right, partially obscured by his massive leg, there was some kind of movement. And further behind that, patient and still, invisible to one who did not know where to look, hid V'rlm.
Ch'gra signaled for Tarul to wait, then bound in long leaps into the clearing. She positioned herself far in front of the oblivious giant, within easy reach of the valley's other exit, where the stream countinued south.
Ch'gra casually prepared her weapon, took a deep breath, and roared!
The giant looked up, startled. He dropped his bone and glowered menacingly at Ch'gra. Ch'gra leaped forward, brandishing her spear. The giant took affront enough at this to grab up his own club and charge!
Ch'gra bound away in a flash, toward the valley's other end. Tarul knew she would lead the giant far away, then double back, giving V'rlm time enough to dress the kill, making the burden lighter and the going faster for all. He retrieved the ram and crossed the little stream, making his way to V'rlm.
When Tarul reached the place where the giant had sat, he stopped short.
The mystery of the movement was solved. It was a horse, his tail pinned under a boulder.
"V'rlm! Help me with this!"
As R'ghtlic's apprentice, V'rlm knew enough of Tarul's language to understand. He came running from his place. Together, they used V'rlm's spear as a lever, rolling the large stone aside so the horse could stand.
It still had its reins, so Tarul took them, calming the beast. He turned to V'rlm. "What happened here?"
"Humans came riding. Giant came after. Killed and ate. Save horse for later."
Tarul was dumbstruck. "And you did nothing?"
V'rlm held his hands out, palms up. "Not our purpose here."
Tarul scowled, but V'rlm seemed oblivious to the man's growing rage. Tarul grabbed up V'rlm's spear and walked toward the valley's southern pass, in direction the giant went.
V'rlm said, "Tarul. Wait! Do not!"
Tarul turned and pointed to the horse. "Watch the horse."
He turned to go, but stopped again, to add: "And do not eat it!"
Then he marched purposefully southward, following the stream.
.
Tarul watched from above while Ch'gra crouched, perfectly still, in the brush and brambles. They hunted near the little spring called the Spring of Songs, for its music echoed from the high cliff walls that surrounded it.
The mountain goat looked around carefully before he took his timid steps to the little pool where the water collected. He drank unmolested, then turned away.
That's when Ch'gra struck. She was a blur to Tarul's watching eyes. In a single swift pounce she leapt forward, her spear piercing the place behind the ram's shoulder before it was truly aware it had happened. A perfect kill.
The waters overflowed from the pool into a swift-running rivulet that ran between two high mountains. Ch'gra dipped her spear in the running water, as she carefully looked around for predators who would steal her work. The tip was metal, with a wicked point. Tarul looked sadly at his own spear--a long pointy stick, more for walking than anything else.
On Ch'gra's signal, Tarul came down from his hiding place. They did not speak, for it was neither possible nor necessary. By now, he had worked with Ch'gra enough to know his role. They go in twos or threes. One to hunt and protect. One to dress the kill and defend it. And sometimes one to carry it, depending on the terrain. He was the carrier.
Tarul kneeled down and turned the ram so some of the blood would drain more quickly. Then he set to work, removing leather string from his satchel, tying the rear hooves to one end of his spear and the fore hooves to the other. With a grunt, he lifted the staff onto his shoulders and followed after Ch'gra.
It was autumn. He wore a few hides to against the chill of the caves, but he rarely felt cold outdoors due to the heat from his own labors. He had always been lean from his scant Bedine diet, but now his form was taut and muscled from many months of difficult work.
Ch'gra made no effort to communicate, or even to slow her steps for the human as she skipped easily over the rocks. They followed the little river south toward the place where it would widen into a tiny valley. There, V'rlm--R'ghtlic's acolyte and apprentice who had found the dying human in the desert--waited to dress the kill. He shifted the weight. They had ventured far for this meat. It would be a long walk.
Tarul's eyes scanned the ground as they went. He did not prefer to hunt with the fearsome she-lion. Why invite trouble? But this was a special case; the hunting ground today was an area of particular interest to Tarul.
He smiled a little, remembering R'ghtlic's words that day on the mountaintop, after Tarul had flung his own aziir from the summit. It was the first time he had seen the old Loremaster surprised.
For a long moment, R'ghtlic peered over the edge, into the mists below. Then lifted his gaze back to the human. "You did this, why?"
"I said it, already," Tarul replied, "I have denied the ways of my father."
"And that aziir. It represented those ways."
The young man said nothing.
"I taunted you, and so you meant to show me that you were serious."
The young man said nothing. A slow, proud smile crossed R'ghtlic's lips. After a moment of uncertainty--smile and leer are very similar on the face of a wemic--Tarul returned the smile. They stood, happily regarding each other for a moment. Then R'ghtlic broke the silence.
"You'll have to go get it, of course."
Tarul gaped. "What?"
"We are wemics of Nobanion. We waste nothing, metal least of all. It is too scarce to be flung haphazardly about. Do you expect to do your work by tooth and nail? We can loan weapons for your training, but they cannot be spared for hunting, for others will be using them. You cannot not hunt or defend for the Pride until you have retrieved your blade."
R'ghtlic peered over the edge again. "Difficult to say where it went. Perhaps the valley floor. Perhaps the Spring of Songs. Or perhaps into the Ravine. Finding it will be a tremendous task."
R'ghtlic looked up at Tarul again, saying nothing. Tarul stood there. R'ghtlic kept looking. Tarul kept standing, wondering by now what R'ghtlic wanted him to do or say.
"Oh!" Tarul said, with sudden realization. Then, sheepishly, "I had better get started, then."
Of course he did not find it that day, or the next, or on any subsequent search. He would always be the Bearer of the Pointy Stick, the Carcass-Carrier, unless he found that blade. And so he volunteered to go with any hunting party that ventured into the places where it might have fallen. Even Ch'gra's hunting party.
Ch'gra stopped suddenly, short of the clearing where V'rlm waited, signaling Tarul to drop his burden and approach with caution.
Tarul crouched low and did as he was told, following Ch'gra's gaze.
Ahead of them, in the little valley, sat a giant, picking his toes with one hand and gnawing a bone with the other. His forehead was sloped and dented on one side. His underbite was tragic. The shape of his nose was sickeningly comical. To his left sat a fearsomely large club.
To his right, partially obscured by his massive leg, there was some kind of movement. And further behind that, patient and still, invisible to one who did not know where to look, hid V'rlm.
Ch'gra signaled for Tarul to wait, then bound in long leaps into the clearing. She positioned herself far in front of the oblivious giant, within easy reach of the valley's other exit, where the stream countinued south.
Ch'gra casually prepared her weapon, took a deep breath, and roared!
The giant looked up, startled. He dropped his bone and glowered menacingly at Ch'gra. Ch'gra leaped forward, brandishing her spear. The giant took affront enough at this to grab up his own club and charge!
Ch'gra bound away in a flash, toward the valley's other end. Tarul knew she would lead the giant far away, then double back, giving V'rlm time enough to dress the kill, making the burden lighter and the going faster for all. He retrieved the ram and crossed the little stream, making his way to V'rlm.
When Tarul reached the place where the giant had sat, he stopped short.
The mystery of the movement was solved. It was a horse, his tail pinned under a boulder.
"V'rlm! Help me with this!"
As R'ghtlic's apprentice, V'rlm knew enough of Tarul's language to understand. He came running from his place. Together, they used V'rlm's spear as a lever, rolling the large stone aside so the horse could stand.
It still had its reins, so Tarul took them, calming the beast. He turned to V'rlm. "What happened here?"
"Humans came riding. Giant came after. Killed and ate. Save horse for later."
Tarul was dumbstruck. "And you did nothing?"
V'rlm held his hands out, palms up. "Not our purpose here."
Tarul scowled, but V'rlm seemed oblivious to the man's growing rage. Tarul grabbed up V'rlm's spear and walked toward the valley's southern pass, in direction the giant went.
V'rlm said, "Tarul. Wait! Do not!"
Tarul turned and pointed to the horse. "Watch the horse."
He turned to go, but stopped again, to add: "And do not eat it!"
Then he marched purposefully southward, following the stream.
.
