On the Other Side

They sat in the center of a forest clearing. The party of seven casually lounged about awaiting the signal to move. They had been scouring the forest for three days in search of the wild boar that roamed the countryside. Their city, Crasson, held a yearly feast to celebrate the day their ancestors escaped the calamity that overtook the planet. The hunt was ceremonial and utterly important to the feast. The boar were only eaten during the festival and left to roam for the remainder of the year.

The hunt rarely took as long as it had so far. The parties tracker, Kaelthorn Holimion had failed to track the boar before they crossed the first of two rivers dissecting Crasson territory. The second river was only a few miles away and if the boar made it across they would have to give up. A fact Tanithil was all too aware of.

“We don’t have long Kaelthorn. Do you have the trail?” He asked. Tanithil was a son of Crasson. He was the eldest of the Grunin children and heir to the city of Crasson. He was strong and stoic. Not letting his friends or his enemies read his emotions. He would often spend hours training with both spear and bow. His father spared no expense when it came to his schooling. If the rumors amongst the townsfolk were to be true, Tanithil would become the greatest leader the city ever had. He was destined to unite the valley they’d whisper. He was destined to become a King.

“I have it, they are headed to the river. We should set off alone if we want to catch them. Kaelthorn replied. He was short and stout but fast as a white belly hare. What he lacked in formal education he made up for in survival knowledge. Unlike the other members of the group Kaelthorn had not been born in Crasson. He had been found living alone in the forest at the age eight. Early on he would tell his Crasson caretakers of monsters beyond the waters to their north and the pagan rituals they would perform. The stories eventually faded much like his memory of that past life. But his ability to survive in the wilderness would stay with him forever.

“No. We have to take Drake. Father demanded he be apart of the kill.”

“He slows us down Tanithil. He’s the reason it’s taken this long.”

“He wasn’t the one that lost the trail before the first river.”

“No but he was the one that needed to rest every other hour. The boar are out pacing us. I’ve never been apart of a hunt where I failed to catch up to a pack of boar. What do you think your father will be more upset about. Drake not killing his first boar or the city not having it for the first time in five hundred years?”

Tanithil thought about this for a brief moment. He glanced back at the lounging party members. Drake was slumped up against a tree. A caterpillar was crawling across his outstretched palm. He smiled at the sight.

“On your feet!” Tanithil shouted. “We’re moving at a sprint. The river is close but the boar are closer. We’re closing the gap now ladies and gentlemen!” The party sprang to their feet, for the most part. Drake struggled to get to his feet taking the time to carefully place the caterpillar on the nearby tree. By the time he looked up the party was already three hundred meters away from him. Panicking he quickly grabbed his spear and took off after them. His lungs threatened to give out with every step. Running had never been his strong suit. He had spent most of his time among the steps of the Cities Hall. A large building in the center of the town that the Grunin family resided in. It wasn’t an overly impressive structure but it did have an overabundance of books. Drake enjoyed literature more than life itself. He often found himself lost among the words of far off worlds. His favorite was that of an ancient book. One that told of flying horses that could take man to meet the faces of the Gods. He longed for these words to come alive and immerse him in a world far from the one he called home. But to his dismay his father continued to drag him back into reality.

He was slowing down. The party continued to move farther from him. They were picking up the pace. The sound of rushing water filled the air now. The river was close. The second river as the Crassons called it might as well have been the edge of the world.

Crassons were forbidden to cross the river under any circumstances, a rule that had spanned the existence of their five hundred year old city. The river wasn’t just the edge of the Crasson sphere of influence but the edge of Crassin valley in its entirety. The valley was home to more than a dozen cities of which Crasson claimed hegemony over them all. The valley was named after them after all. Or were they named after the valley? The information got murky the farther back Drake read. He had learned long ago not to question the claim of hegemony that his city was so proud of. And in their defense most of the cities seemed to accept this state of affairs. Crasson was the largest of the valley cities. While its army was small it was effective and it managed to keep marauders at bay, not that many wandered into the valleys sunny gaze. Outsiders seemed to leave the people of the valley be. And those that did stroll across the border did so from the East, not the North where the city of Crasson called home.

Drake paused for a moment giving his heaving lungs a short reprieve from a level of exhaustion they were unaccustomed to. He panted, frustrated he pounded himself on the chest and forced his weary legs to continue. He arrived at the river minutes later. The party was staring wide eyed across the rough waters. There on the other side of the bank were a family of boar, fourteen in total. They had crossed the waters across a fallen tree that lay perfectly on both sides. Tanithil stared at them stone-faced. The rest of the party however looked distraught. Seeing Drake trotting up they changed their gaze to him. He felt the looks of distain fall upon his shoulders. He glanced at them, then at the ground.

“What do we do now?” Rathal asked. He was the youngest of the party. His father had served under the Grunin family for twenty years. It was there that he earned his son the privilege to join the sacred hunt. It was a defining moment in his life. A successful hunt would mean fame among the town and his choice of mate. It would mean he would be placed on a pedestal, only working once a year for the purposes of the hunt. He would have the honor of spending his days however he wished. His every want would be sought to be a grateful people. For twenty years his father worked in near poverty until a spot amongst the hunting party opened.

That spot had belonged to Thiras Ellarian, the oldest of the party. This would be his final hunt. He had seen sixty festivals, and his eye sight was not what it used to be. In truth he had not wanted to be apart of the hunt this year at all by Tanithil had begged him to come along. He would need the experienced hunter to help train Rathal and Drake in the ways of the hunt. In Rathals defense, he took to it rather quickly. He rather liked Rathal. He would make a fine replacement. He shared the rest of the parties opinion on Drake however.

“We find a different pack.” Said Thiras still staring at Drake. Drakes eyes focused on his feet.

“There’s no time. This was the only one we could find. The festival is in three days and we have at least that far of a journey back. If we manage to take fewer breaks.” Valindra had always been close to Drake. In a way she had taken to him like a sheep dog takes to the flock. She saw him for the sensitive man that he was. And she liked that about him. Her falcon Limera even liked him and beyond her Limera liked no one. Limera circled above the group watching for danger. She eyed the boars with eager intent.

“No. There’s no time.” Agreed Tanithil. “Valindra, call down your bird. She’s going home. Maybe they can find a pack closer to the city before the festival begins.” Valindra did as she was told. She whistled, Limera soared down and perched on Valindras outstretched arm. Tanithil revealed a crumpled-up scrap of parchment and began to etch out a handful of symbols using crushed berries from a nearby bush. Crassons had become adept at using symbols to communicate rather than waste time and paper on long drawn out messages.

Rathal eyed the process wearily. He knew that what Tanithil held in his hands was the end of his dreams. None of them would ever be apart of the hunt again without a kill. With a lurch he darted towards the edge of the river bank. Notching an arrow he launched it towards the small gathering of boar on the other side. His arrow found its mark striking a large hog in the neck. It collapsed with a wail. He quickly notched another and chose another target. The hogs were starting to move now. Their dead friends cry sent a warning call a mile wide. He fired, narrowly striking a young one in the leg. The herd moved away from the river retreating to the safety of the forest just fifty meters behind them. Rathal jumped upon the fallen tree that had created a makeshift bridge across the roaring current.

“Rathal wait!” Thiras shouted after him. He raised his spear, ready to strike the boy off the bridge. He would not allow a five hundred year law to be broken in his midst. He reared back preparing to throw. Shava took the spear from his hands in one swift motion. Shava made an unusual hunter. Under five feet tall she was never expected to do anything of note for Crasson. But her size had not hampered her goals. Training constantly Shava had turned every muscle in her body towards one purpose. In her hands the Crasson spear was the deadliest weapon on Earth. And no ones spear was safe from her grasp.

Thiras turned in anger but Shava had already put ten feet between herself and the old man. Tanithil’s attention was now focused on Rathal. He was screaming at him but Rathal couldn’t hear him over the roaring of the current. He raised each arm shoulder length to balance his weight and began to trot across the tree. Drake watched in horror as the first Crasson in centuries set foot on the far side of the bank. He continued to watch as Tanithil darted after the boy. Valindra pushed him forward.

“Go! Follow your brother!” She launched Limera off her arm. She soared to the skies circling the fleeing pack of boar. Drake was the fourth to cross the log. Rathal had already made it into the forest with Tanithil close on heels. Shava was halfway across when Drake decided to join her. He looked down seeing the roaring waters below. His head grew dizzy. He shook the thought of falling out of his head and looked forward. Shava was off, both her and Thiras’s spear in her hands. Drake slowly inched across. He could feel Valindra on his heels. He was sure she was trying to encourage him along but the words were lost on him. The crashing of water against rocks was all he could hear. And the fear of testing the sharpness of those rocks continued to creep into his head. He pushed on.

Drake finished the crossing a matter of minutes. He took a breath when he made it to the other side. He stared at the ground beneath him taking in the weight of what this meant. Valindra however payed the ground no heed. She brushed past him, eyes to the sky watching Limera point towards the fleeing boar. Thiras was close on her heels white knuckling his hand axe. Kaelthorn was the last to cross. He slowly walked past drake then paused, turning he made eye contact with him.

“Don’t let me die out here Grunin. Don’t let any of our bones call this foreign land our home.”

Drake nodded slowly and rushed past him moving to catch up with the others. Kaelthorn stayed by the river collecting the already dead boar. He had seen enough of these lands in his youth and the memories were beginning to return to him. He began to move the carcass across the bridge.

Drake caught up to Valindra moments later. A short ways away was both Rathal and Tanithil. Panting Drake opened his mouth to speak but was met by Valindras outstretched hand motioning for him to be quiet. To their left Thiras and Shava took refuge behind a dead log. Thiras’s spear had been returned to him.

Valindra pointed towards the sky. Limera was screeching a warning to those below. Valindras eyes were wide as she redirected Drakes attention towards his brother. Tanithil was staring farther North. There Drakes eyes fell upon a striking figure. A man stood before them, half naked and exposing his teeth. He was covered from head to toe in a pale white powder. Red stripes ran down his torso. He shouted and pointed a strange weapon at Rathal who was frozen kneeling over a now dead boar. The mans shout was met with hundreds of others a few hundred meters behind him. Drake could hear the thunder of their footsteps approaching. The man charged forward continuing to shout.

An arrow zipped past him but he payed it no attention. Drake looked towards Shava who was frantically trying to notch a second arrow. Thiras had left their position. Spear in hand he charged towards Rathal and Tanithil. As he did so the foreign man closed the distance. Tanithil rushed to meet him. The two collided. The closeness of the trees limited their movement as they dodged each other’s fatal blows. Tanithil thrust his spear towards the attacker but he managed to duck out of the way at the last moment. The man took hold of the spear shaft and attempted to pull it from Tanithils grasp but it was too strong. He stabbed towards him with his own long bladed weapon. Tanithil back peddled letting go of his spear in the process. The roots beneath his feet betrayed his footing and Tanithil quickly found himself laying on his back staring up at his attacker. The painted man lifted Tanithils own spear above his head readying for a final strike but Thiras beat him to it. His spear found its mark. Metal met flesh and blood flew out in every direction. Tanithil felt the warm liquid land on his face. Above him the painted attacker was clasping at the spear sticking out of his chest. Thiras obliged him. Pulling it out then thrusting it into his neck. He fell with a gasp.

The thundering footsteps grew nearer and the screams ever louder. Tanithil sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the still frozen Rathal. Grabbing him by the wrist he began to pull the boy back towards the river. In his confusion Rathal resisted attempting to grab the dead boar for the feast. Thiras kicked his hand away waking him from his catatonic state. He wrestled his hand away from Tanithils grasp and began to run on his own. Shava fired another arrow into the tree line. Perplexed Drake followed its flight path and watched as it struck a similarly painted person in head. Hundreds of them now poured out of the trees. They chanted in unison as they began to gain ground on the fleeing hunters.