Adal puffed, adjusting the pole on her shoulder. “I remember now,” she said, “why I hate hunting bighorner.”
“Sure,” the hunter behind her said. “Your band is all geckos, huh? Can’t work together?”
“Walk right off a cliff,” she told him. The hunters carrying the other half of the carcass laughed.
“Hers is a fire gecko, anyway,” Ches said, arms wrapped around the hide. “Have you hunted one of them with a knife?”
“No, ‘cause I’m sane,” one of them said.
He stuck his tongue out at the Gabrel man. “And mine’s gonna be a night stalker, don’t care if it’s sane.”
The hunter laughed again. “Feisty! I’ll give you Santi people that.”
They navigated the hills with the halves of the bighorner hanging between them, spear poles bending under the weight. The sun was past peak, the air starting to cool. Adal squinted at the grass ahead of them. “Was there another party headed north?”
“No. Most all of us are hunting, but none this way,” Sen said, manning the other pole. He followed her gaze to where the grass had been trampled. “Noisy sort of trail for hunters. Real big group.”
They lay the carcass down, inspecting the ground. One of the newcomers plucked something from the trail. “None of ours use casings like this,” she said, and handed it to the Gabrel, who shook his head.
Adal took it from him, a plastic tube the size of her thumb. “Shotgun. Not ours, either,” she said, a cold fear settling in her guts. “Leave the meat. We have to get back.”
“What’s wrong?” The others were passing it between them, curious.
“You know the Red men? The Legion?” she said, turning back towards camp.
“They tried to take a town we were trading with. Sent them running,” he said, following as she started to run. “They’re not…?”
“Been trading shots for weeks,” Sen said, grim.
“Shut up and run!” Adal said. Her heart was in her throat, each stride seeming to take hours. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Everyone. She ran fast and reckless until her foot slid, making her slow. She lifted it to find blood, the sole sliced on some debris, unable to feel it in her panic. The others caught up, chivvying her on, and Ches even grabbed her hand to drag her forward. Each footfall sent a stab of pain through her. Each footfall had a name, chanted in a too-slow rhythm, a prayer to find them as she had left them. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Silva. Mear. Cala...
The wind shifted, tainted by smoke. They came to a halt, breathing hard. “Sen, with me. You two, sweep east, see what you can,” Adal said. “Ches, stay put. Don’t get into trouble.”
“I’m coming with you, ma,” he wheezed, doubled over, barely able to stand after pacing the adults.
“You are not, boy. This is no game.” He flinched at the tone of her voice. “No argument. You stay.” She waved to Sen, rifle low and ready, trying to slow her breathing. They ghosted through the tall grass, circling towards the camp. Sen nudged her arm, steering them towards an overlook.
Adal had to put a hand to her mouth. The camp had been at a crossroads on the Seventy, a few shacks still standing. They burned now, along with the tents. The pavement was red with blood, one of the pack brahmin laying in pieces. Bodies were scattered the road, many hacked apart, limbs strewn like leaves. The surviving Walker cowered in the center of the crossroads. They were ringed by men in red skirts, armored, some with elaborate plumed helmets. All bore weapons, bloody blades or guns that dwarfed those of the Walker. She watched as they wove through their prisoners, splitting and sorting them into men, women and children.
Sen had slid back from the ledge, hands pressed to his face, looking ready to vomit. “Sen.” Adal grabbed him by the shoulders and made him look up. “Sen. We have to do something. We have to fight them.”
He shook his head, rocking on his heels. “My sister,” he whispered. “My father. Dead. There, in the dirt…”
“But the rest are alive!” she hissed. ”They still need our help!”
“No, no…” he moaned, pulling his hood over his eyes, tears on his face.
She slapped him hard. “Do you want to watch?” she said, and he cringed. She pushed his rifle at his chest. “I’m going to help them. I don’t care if you—”
“Hold there,” said a voice behind them in the grass, the words clipped and sharp.
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timeasmymeasure
Crossroads (6a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:23 pm (UTC)“Sure,” the hunter behind her said. “Your band is all geckos, huh? Can’t work together?”
“Walk right off a cliff,” she told him. The hunters carrying the other half of the carcass laughed.
“Hers is a fire gecko, anyway,” Ches said, arms wrapped around the hide. “Have you hunted one of them with a knife?”
“No, ‘cause I’m sane,” one of them said.
He stuck his tongue out at the Gabrel man. “And mine’s gonna be a night stalker, don’t care if it’s sane.”
The hunter laughed again. “Feisty! I’ll give you Santi people that.”
They navigated the hills with the halves of the bighorner hanging between them, spear poles bending under the weight. The sun was past peak, the air starting to cool. Adal squinted at the grass ahead of them. “Was there another party headed north?”
“No. Most all of us are hunting, but none this way,” Sen said, manning the other pole. He followed her gaze to where the grass had been trampled. “Noisy sort of trail for hunters. Real big group.”
They lay the carcass down, inspecting the ground. One of the newcomers plucked something from the trail. “None of ours use casings like this,” she said, and handed it to the Gabrel, who shook his head.
Adal took it from him, a plastic tube the size of her thumb. “Shotgun. Not ours, either,” she said, a cold fear settling in her guts. “Leave the meat. We have to get back.”
“What’s wrong?” The others were passing it between them, curious.
“You know the Red men? The Legion?” she said, turning back towards camp.
“They tried to take a town we were trading with. Sent them running,” he said, following as she started to run. “They’re not…?”
“Been trading shots for weeks,” Sen said, grim.
“Shut up and run!” Adal said. Her heart was in her throat, each stride seeming to take hours. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Everyone. She ran fast and reckless until her foot slid, making her slow. She lifted it to find blood, the sole sliced on some debris, unable to feel it in her panic. The others caught up, chivvying her on, and Ches even grabbed her hand to drag her forward. Each footfall sent a stab of pain through her. Each footfall had a name, chanted in a too-slow rhythm, a prayer to find them as she had left them. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Silva. Mear. Cala...
The wind shifted, tainted by smoke. They came to a halt, breathing hard. “Sen, with me. You two, sweep east, see what you can,” Adal said. “Ches, stay put. Don’t get into trouble.”
“I’m coming with you, ma,” he wheezed, doubled over, barely able to stand after pacing the adults.
“You are not, boy. This is no game.” He flinched at the tone of her voice. “No argument. You stay.” She waved to Sen, rifle low and ready, trying to slow her breathing. They ghosted through the tall grass, circling towards the camp. Sen nudged her arm, steering them towards an overlook.
Adal had to put a hand to her mouth. The camp had been at a crossroads on the Seventy, a few shacks still standing. They burned now, along with the tents. The pavement was red with blood, one of the pack brahmin laying in pieces. Bodies were scattered the road, many hacked apart, limbs strewn like leaves. The surviving Walker cowered in the center of the crossroads. They were ringed by men in red skirts, armored, some with elaborate plumed helmets. All bore weapons, bloody blades or guns that dwarfed those of the Walker. She watched as they wove through their prisoners, splitting and sorting them into men, women and children.
Sen had slid back from the ledge, hands pressed to his face, looking ready to vomit. “Sen.” Adal grabbed him by the shoulders and made him look up. “Sen. We have to do something. We have to fight them.”
He shook his head, rocking on his heels. “My sister,” he whispered. “My father. Dead. There, in the dirt…”
“But the rest are alive!” she hissed. ”They still need our help!”
“No, no…” he moaned, pulling his hood over his eyes, tears on his face.
She slapped him hard. “Do you want to watch?” she said, and he cringed. She pushed his rifle at his chest. “I’m going to help them. I don’t care if you—”
“Hold there,” said a voice behind them in the grass, the words clipped and sharp.