Grane – Day Four: Desiccated Souls
Day Four – Desiccated Souls
Squeaking by on whatever scraps of food they could scavenge on the trail, and down to Grane’s single canteen between the pair, the huntress and her young companion pushed deeper and deeper west.
Rock’s tribal life certainly wasn’t easy, few in the wastes could rightly claim such a thing, but the stresses of nomadic life were further pushing him towards the brink. His eyes now permanently charred a harsh black from what seemed like only mere moments of sleep, and his skin starting to take on a sickly yellowish hue from dehydration and a steady diet of lizard, stone beetle, and on the direst of occasions, khachin-ardyn themselves. The identity of this third mystery meat was a fact Grane took care to hide. She herself recalled the all-too-human meat to be the hardest fact of the lifestyle to accept. The boy could keep that bit of innocence a bit longer, for the language barrier made ignoring questions quite easy.
Grane hushed her aide down, verbally and physically. The two lay prone, the elder of the pair peering forward to scout the scene ahead.
A band of men converged just off the horizon. A dozen or so stood discussing something at length. Groups this large were rare, and this one was armed. There was only one reason to stalk the wastes in such numbers. They were raiders. They had to be. Haggard and lean ones, but dangerous nonetheless. Luckily Grane had spotted them before they had seen her. Now the windswept desert hid the two, aided by dismally colored tatters and sun-stained skin.
Keeping low, Grane turned Rock around and began to retreat. They would go back a bit east before heading north and then resume their way west, hoping to avoid trouble at the cost of progress. A coarse voice stopped them in mid-step. She looked to her right, a man stood with bow ready to make a pincushion of Grane’s face. Rock took a step towards the man before being shoved behind. Grane stood, shielding her companion from potential harm. Rock looked up at her, almost in curiosity, surprised at this action.
The man shouted further, yet another whom she could not understand. She looked him up and down, studying his features to gauge his skills. His looks were unlike those of Rock’s tribe or anyone she had seen in recent times. The man, looking at most 35 years of age, was shorter and tanner than the westerlings. Like Grane, he was surely far from home. Dressed light and armed similarly to herself, she could tell he was a lifelong wayfarer as well.
He rolled his head around his shoulders, annoyed at the silence his shouts met. Lifting his bow, he readied to take his shot. Grane steadied herself, preparing for a quick draw of her own in the case she survived his. He pulled the arrow as far back as it would go, mere moments from release. Rock shouted something from behind her. The man untensed his arms, still keeping his bow up. He said a few things, this time in a calmer tone. Rock tugged at Grane’s arm, and she glanced back at him.
“Uh..” he stammered. “Grane….say!”
Grane crinkled her mouth and turned her attention back to the assailant.
“Make your move if you are going to make it.”
To her surprise the man tilted his head as if what he had just heard was astonishing. He threw off his hood, revealing long flowing black hair and began to speak.
“I am Bey of the Esterwaste. I have traveled 15 years of footsteps to find myself here. I never thought I would meet one such as you, kin.” His accent felt good on her weary ears. This man surely was from a tribe that had originated near her own.
“I am a huntress. West or east, I have no kin.” She replied. “State your intentions, kill me, or begone!” Bey laughed softly and relaxed himself.
“I’ve long been in service of a nearby regent. That band,” he said, nodding towards the men on the horizon” and I are on a task to an abandoned settlement so close it may as well be underfoot.”
“Then we’ve no business with you. Let us on our way.” She replied, her aid peeking out from behind her with head atilt. Bey smiled back.
“No? The place surely has wells. I’m sure I can convince the men to let you take your fill. I simply wish to speak the old tongue at length again.” He lifted his head up and laughed heartily. “Even now the words taste like home.”
Grane tapped the canteen at her side, feeling it slosh in near emptiness. She sighed as Rock looked curiously at her canteen and then the man. Bey smirked at the boy before saying something to him in Rock’s language that perked up his ears. He tugged at her arm, nodding his head furiously. She closed her eyes, considering the situation.
“Fine.” She agreed. “We need the water.”
“Wonderful!”
“However, if you make a single wrong move I will kill you and yours without hesitation.”
“No problem!” he chuckled back. “Look at them! Gentlemen the whole lot!”
They proceeded on with the short drudge to the men’s camp, Rock happily blabbering to someone who actually understood him. Grane soon thought to take the moment to teach him a few words, chief amongst them being “stop.” The linguistic implanting seemed successful and she smiled to herself, happy in the knowledge that she had a few more mutual words to yell at him with.
The group closed in on the camp, whose occupants stared in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity at the strange pair their man had returned with. The camp was haphazard in its construction, and obviously meant to be very temporary. Cloth tents pitched with metal rods looked as if their tattered covers wouldn’t block out much of the harsh sun. Better than nothing, she supposed, but it hardly seemed worth the effort of lugging such things around.
Bey called out to the men, a few of whom grumbled some things back. They were gathering around a cooking pot, boiling something over-fire. Hopefully she wasn’t the intended final ingredient. Bey unlatched a satchel on his side and threw it to one of the men. One of them snatched it before quickly dumping the contents into the cooking pot. Various meats, mostly lizard, tumbled out and created splashes of scalding liquid. Some of it hit a few of the men, who barely so much as reacted, a slight burn was nothing against such sun-weary skin. She sighed in relief, the best kind of stew was a stew that did not contain bits of yourself.
After a few more boisterous exchanges with his men, Bey nodded and guided his guests to sit down under the semi-shade of one of the shelters. Rock plopped down with aplomb, happy for another break in his travels. Grane cautiously sat down on her knees, ready still to spring up at any time. The men eyed her now and again, less in caution but more in a different kind of hunger. Anything looked good after a long time from home, she guessed.
“Do you ever relax, girl?” Bey asked with a smile and tilt of his head.
“Not when I’m around suspicious folk.” She bluntly sent back.
“Ouch. Harsher than the sun above.” Bey put his hand to his chest. “I’m perfectly nice, honest!” Rock spoke up, happily stating some nonsense or another. The two exchanged some words and soon after the boy turned to Grane.
“Bey cool!” He stated proudly. She rolled her eyes in response.
“Don’t teach him that.” Bey winked at the boy and the two giggled together while Grane looked on, a grumpy look still emblazoned on her face.
More idle chatter passed, with Bey being avoidant to the question of what his people were doing out here. There was something in the derelict village nearby that the settlement he worked for needed. Spare parts maybe, raw materials perhaps. She couldn’t think of anything worth this kind of secrecy. The whole situation was apocryphal indeed, but a well was a well. They needed to stock up again, for she she still had no clue as to the distance between the present and the end. Eventually Grane was alerted it was time to break camp. The men’s rest was at an end and they were to set off soon to beat the moon to their next camp after the task was complete. The men soon marched west, more orderly than she thought that they could. She and Rock followed close behind, accompanied by their mysterious new friend.
The village came into view, and a particularly gloomy picture began to paint itself upon the horizon. The village itself was in ruins. Most buildings had been reclaimed by the sands, and the few that still stood were nothing but rotten boards and hole-filled scraps of metal. Piles of stone littered the area, rubble still reminding the wastes that a once-proud settlement stood here time and time ago. The materials weren’t the attention grabber, however. The denizens of this place still stood. The blight had visited here and left many bereaved in its wake.
They stood, rotting and festering in the desert, ripped and dangling flesh revealing the bone beneath. Some could no longer stand, for time had won the battle against their lower halves. Those ones lay on the ground, boiled eyes still staring off into the sky above. It was a ghastly sight. One made worse by the fact that they were not alone. Khachin-ardyn had found it first. The place was a buffet for the beasts. Some were ripping into the meatiest bereaved, others were working clean bones held in their hands. They noticed the men approaching, but to Grane’s surprise didn’t launch into attack. The simply eyed them cautiously, still gorging themselves on the flesh of the lost. They had their food. They didn’t need to fight for more. Even their voracious appetite was appeased by this much meat, fetid as it was.
The men suddenly drew their arms and began their charge. The khachin became alert, standing their ground and showing they were very much willing to fight to protect this meal. Bey quickened his pace, but not quite as much as the others. Rock sped up to join him, but Grane snatched his hands, tugging him back and causing him to curse.
“Stop.”
The men hit the village like a wave, overwhelming the small horde of khachin with pure numbers. The beats were on guard rather than on the hunt, something Grane had never seen of their ilk. They weren’t as rabid, and at times felt lethargic, only lashing out when something got close to their meal. A few bites here, and a few scrapes there, the men managed to rout their foes without a loss of one of their own. They caught their breath while guffawing in victory as Grane and Rock walked into the outskirts of the village. Soon, they recovered and went about their work. With ropes ready the rounded up their quarry. The bereaved were unceremoniously gathered up and tied.
“You are here for them?” Grane asked, face scrunched in confusion as she caught up to Bey.
“Weird, isn’t it?” he asked. Continuing after a beat when he received no reply. “They sacrifice them to the blight. A grizzly tradition, but whatever helps them sleep at night, right?”
“And you are okay with that?” she replied. The people of the east kept their distance from the bereaved, believing the blight was attracted back to its former victims.
“I gave up trying to understand the thing.” he said with a shrug. “The blight comes or it doesn’t.”
Grane felt a strange sort of disgust at the treatment of these bereaved. She knew she shouldn’t, for what were they but empty vessels? Still, to see them rounded up like lame livestock seemed disrespectful to the souls that once burned with in.
“What are you two doing this far out?” Bey asked, noticing her focus upon less-than pleasant sights.
“Huh?” Grane shook off the moment and planted her mind back into reality. “I seek the west that weeps.”
“The west that weeps?” He replied quizzically. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Grane nodded and cleared her throat before speaking.
“Neither have I.”
Stepping further into town, bones began to crack beneath their feet, barely covered by the sands. The khachin had really done a number. Bey noticed her looking down, slightly shaken by the mess below.
“Don’t think too much on it.” he said with his characteristic smile. “They were corpses long before they were bones.” Grane sighed, tugging at Rock’s arm to bring his attention to her. “Let’s just find the well.”
They set off to find a well to replenish their supply. It didn’t take too long before one was found, sequestered behind one of the still-standing structures and away from prying eyes was a small stone well. The group filled everything they could and stashed it into Rock’s pack. He seemed uncomfortable, having forgotten how heavy his burden could be.
Then something shook and something screeched. Bey grabbed Grane at the wrist and pulled her backwards. She stumbled, unaware of what was going on. A khachin had been hiding here and had chosen now to make its attack. She drew her blade and thrust it forward into the beast. Then she ripped it back out and kicked through the spray of blood, knocking the squealing khachin backwards and tumbling over the well.
She turned back to thank Bey, who was still holding her arm, but found him hypnotized by something he had seen. She called his name, confused as to why he was confused. Then horror struck her. In his grasp to save her, he had pushed up her sleeve.
The two gazed at the mark on Grane’s wrist. A dark circle. The mark of the bereaved. Grane’s eyes widened as she realized her secret was compromised. She yanked her arm backwards, slipping it out of his grasp. Rock watched the two, confused. This turned to worry as Bey drew a knife from his side.
“W-What are you?!” he stammered out, the ambient bustle of the men-at-work undisturbed by the events at the well.
“Calm down.” Grane replied, slowly bringing her arm towards the hilt of her own blade.
“You shouldn’t be talking!” he screamed, eyes burning in horror. His carefree and friendly smile was now long gone. “This isn’t possible!” Grane stepped backwards, guiding Rock with the hand not ready at her blade. He pushed back however, shaking his head in refusal.
“Stop, Bey!” He yelled. “Stop!”
“What curse is this?” He asked, glancing at Rock. “What evil animates you?!”
“Rock, we’re leaving!” she yelled, this time pushing him back with force.
“Leave the boy!” Bey demanded. “Keep your evil to yourself!”
“Back off, Bey!”
And then he made his move. Bey lunged forward looking to thrust his dagger into Grane’s heart.
She pushed the boy away with one hand and drew her blade with the other whilst fading to the right. Bey’s attack connected with air between them. He spun towards her slashing violently with hatred in his eyes.
“Bey stop!” Rock continued to scream, unable to surmise why the situation had taken this turn. Bey didn’t listen. He made one last attack, slashing horizontally at his new-found enemy. She leaped back, quick enough to avoid a lethal blow, but not quick enough to avoid a gash. She countered quickly, jabbing with her hilt and smashing it into his face. Bey staggered back, dazed for a mere moment. She lifted her sword up high, ready to strike down.
“Grane stop!” Rock screamed, tears beginning to stream from his eyes. She didn’t listen either, instead bring the blade diagonally down into Bey’s shoulder. He hit the ground, still staring at her in confused terror as he choked on the blood now filling up his mouth.
“B-blight take the rest of you…”
Rock looked shocked, frozen where he stood unable to process the situation. Grane sheathed her weapon and turned to him. A single tear streamed down her cheek. She hugged him and then turned west. Surely some of the men had heard the commotion. She began to run, leaving Rock behind for anything must be better than traveling with her.
“Stop!” he called out between sniffles as she got about 10 paces away. She stopped and looked back at him, lips still quivering. He hoisted up his pack and hurried to catch up. He reached Grane and hugged her legs. Then he pointed at himself and then her before saying a single word.
“Together.”
Grane sobbed for a moment, touched for the first time in memory. She inhaled twice and then exhaled deeply. With a nod, the pair smiled weakly and then made their escape.
