The Hunter (11 page)

It was obvious to both of them that the torturous mutilation had taken place before death. It had been burned after death
for the body was still held in place by the fibrous ropes, holding it in place over the embers that still smoldered, spewing
the black smoke into the air like a beacon, summoning them to the grisly scene.

The thought came to them at the same time and they sprung apart, swords and spears at the ready, looking at the banks above
them and to either side, wondering if they had walked into a trap. But there was nothing to be seen or heard, other than Beast’s
low keening that seemed entirely appropriate.

A search of the area proved that they were alone, the karks had gone. There seemed no doubt that the karks were responsible,
for their footprints were everywhere and they had made no effort to conceal their presence.

Braldt and Carn cut the corpse down and wrapped him in his own robe, the russet brown stained red with his own life’s blood,
and buried him some distance away on the banks of the ravine. They placed the gourd of fermented milk by his side, along with
a twist of meat and a dagger, so that he might go into death as a warrior. Then they said the words that would free his spirit
to roam the skies with Mother Moon and made the signs over his grave that would speed his spirit on its way, cutting the air
between them with their spears so that the spirit would not cling to the life it had once known. And then it was done and
there was nothing to do but go on, which they did gladly, leaving the awful sight behind them, though the memory accompanied
them as they traveled deeper into the lonely land.

They saw the Guardian Stone rising up out of the red
earth, solitary and isolated, long before they reached it. The mountains rose in the distance behind it, distorted by watery,
wavery images that would disappear as they drew near. The mountains appeared to be close enough to touch, but Braldt knew
that they were still many days away.

They reached the stone at midday and stopped for a brief meal. The stone rose above them, looking outward impassively at the
mountains, with a forboding expression in its fixed gaze. Once again Braldt was seized by a feeling of discomfort as he looked
up at the plinth, for the features on the stone, although flat and distorted, were undeniably those of his own.

“Still think you’re one of them, eh, Braldt” Carn drawled, following the direction of Braldt’s eyes. Braldt shrugged and turned
away, embarrassed that Carn had caught him out so easily.

“I’m surprised that you bother to live among us mere mortals. Must be rather boring for you. How come you don’t just fix that
thing that’s broken and then heal uncle? Why bother coming on this trip at all? Unless you want to give uncle a chance to
die while we’re gone. That’s it, isn’t it, Braldt? You’re hoping he’ll die while we’re gone!”

Braldt stared at Carn and bit back the angry words that filled his mind. Carn’s face was darkly flushed and his hand opened
and closed spasmodically at his sides, a sure sign of the uncontrollable rage that often overtook him, swiftly and without
warning. It was useless to try to reason with him at such times for mere words could not appease him.

“I do not want to fight with you, Carn, your words are
foolishness.” Braldt turned away and began rummaging in his pouch, looking for a bit of dried meat to feed Beast. Beast growled
ominously and Braldt looked over his shoulder and saw Carn framed by the white sun, with a large rock hefted above his head
ready to strike.

Carn screamed and brought the rock down with full force, but Braldt threw himself to one side and grabbed Carn’s ankles, jerking
them out from under him. Grunting and panting with exertion and emotion, the two men grappled on the hot, dusty earth, searching
for a hold while attempting to elude being pinned themselves.

Carn’s face was close, his dark eyes full of undisguised, bitter hatred. Braldt was deeply shaken for he had not even suspected
the depth of his brother’s feelings.

Gasping and panting for breath, the two men rolled back and forth on the hot earth, neither able to gain the advantage. Although
Braldt was by far the taller and heavier, Carn was lithe and strong and his hate gave him added strength. Suddenly a knife
appeared in Carn’s hand, its point pricking at Braldt’s throat. But then, just as suddenly, he was gone, his weight removed,
and he struck out repeatedly, the knife rising and falling as Braldt threw himself forward, catching Carn around the waist
and hurling him facefirst onto the ground.

Yapping shrilly, Beast rose up on his hind legs as the adults of his kind were wont to don and skittered sideways, then dropped
to all fours and lunged, snapping at Carn, his double rows of teeth already stained with Carn’s blood.

Carn rolled sideways, knocking Braldt off, and then rose to his feet brandishing the knife. Braldt cursed and struggled to
his feet, but neither Carn nor Beast paid him any attention, each fixed upon the other. A steady stream of blood pulsed from
a wound on Carn’s ankle and Beast’s flank was scored by a long, shallow cut. Neither was hurt badly but Braldt knew that it
could get much worse, quickly.

Braldt ripped his robe free and threw it over Beast, enveloping him in its folds, and held the struggling bundle against his
chest while backing away from Carn. He backed
until he was stopped by the smooth warm surface of the stone.

“Do you hate me so much, brother?”

“That much and more,” replied Carn as he sheathed his dagger and looked into Braldt’s eyes. The killing rage had dimmed, replaced
by something more easily maintained over a long period of time, hatred.

“You are not my brother and never will be. No words will make it so. You are an outsider. You were not born of the Duroni
and have no claim to the throne, no matter what Uncle says. He is old, weak, and useless. He grieves that he has no son to
take his place and carry on the family name. He has picked you, but by all rights it should have been me, and
would
have been me had you not appeared so mysteriously. And it will still be me, brother,” he said, twisting the word and spitting
it out like a bitter seed.

“Carn, I have no wish to be chief. You may have the throne and my allegiance as well. I never asked for the honor. I tell
you that it is not what I want.”

“Oh, and what is it that you do want, brother?”

“I want for things to be the way they were between us. I want you to stop hating me. How can such a thing be? I have no hatred
for you! You are right, I am an outsider, that is plain enough to see. But I cannot control what happened when I was but a
babe. Am I to be punished and reviled for the events that robbed me of my own parents, my birthright, my own history? Do you
not think that I lie awake nights and wonder who my parents were and how they came to be found in the desert, and wonder what
killed them?

“Fate or the gods robbed me of my own family and then gave me into the keeping of yours. Would you deny me the right to love
and honor them, the only family I have ever known? Do you think it is easy knowing that I am different and do not belong?
You
are
my brother, Carn, and even if you hate me, it will not change the way I feel.”

Carn stared at Braldt, measuring his words, weighing them, and then he turned away, his back to Braldt. When he turned back,
the hardness had left his eyes, or was well
masked, and he was no longer the stranger he had become, but Carn the Stalker, brother of Braldt.

“You mean what you say, don’t you?” he said in carefully measured tones.

Braldt nodded.

Carn stared down at the ground, lost in thought, and then at his bleeding ankle and the steady stream of blood that soaked
into the parched earth.

“Well, if we are not going to kill each other, maybe you can help me with this leg before I bleed to death,” he said with
a forced grin. “And maybe you can stop that thing from attacking me again.”

Braldt looked down at the squirming bundle and wondered whether Carn could truly change so quickly. He wanted to believe that
it was so, but how could anyone hate so strongly one minute and then deny it the next? Beast lunged in his arms, trying to
free himself. And then there was Beast. Braldt had no idea what the animal would do; he was no tame creature who would do
his bidding. It was possible that Beast would forever view Carn as an enemy.

“I don’t know what he’ll do, I can but try.” Placing the robe down on the ground, Braldt held Beast firmly with one hand and
stroked him with the other, murmuring in what he hoped was a soothing tone. Beast quieted and Braldt removed the robe.

Beast looked at Braldt as though seeking reassurance and then up at Carn, fixing him with a steady, burning gaze that spoke
of enmity that went far beyond his young age, but he made no move toward him. Then he turned his attentions to himself, pointedly
ignoring Carn and tenderly licking the raw edges of the long wound. Nor would he allow Braldt to minister to him, trotting
some distance away and settling beneath the low-hanging branches of a grease-wood bush.

Freed of that concern the two men dealt with Carn’s ankle, washing it with some of their precious water, laving it carefully
to cleanse it of any bits of dirt that might later fester and cause the leg to sicken. Fortunately, it had been but a glancing
slice of the pup’s teeth rather than a solid
bite, and though it bled copiously, it was shallow and not of a serious nature. Still, it did not do to take any wound lightly
and the ankle was liberally smeared with Jos’s stinging healing unguent and bound with strips of clean cloth.

Tending to the wound had allowed their emotions to cool further and without referring to the matter again, they turned to
the subject of food, deftly avoiding any mention of what had gone before. Strips of dried meat were brought out of their pouches
and hard rounds of cheese, washed down with the gourd of sour fermented milk. They ate in silence, neither of them knowing
what to say. Beast returned after a time although he would not come close to either man, viewing both with distrust. Carn
threw him a bit of meat that Beast ignored.

“I did not know you hated me,” Braldt said, staring straight ahead.

“I am tired of hearing your name. I sometimes think that I do not exist. It is as though Auslic and even my father think that
the moon itself rises and sets to please you. It’s Braldt did this, Braldt did that. My ears grow weary of hearing your name
and no one has eyes for anything that I do.

“Last turning, I killed the merebear that was taking the shebeasts, the one that had ventured to the very outskirts of the
city, and when we measured it, Father pointed out that you had once slain one that was larger!” The bitterness was obvious
in Carn’s voice and even though he had not been present or responsible for Otius’s comments, he could feel the pain that they
had caused.

“I did not know, Carn, nor do I wish it to be so,” Braldt replied simply, not knowing what else he could say.

“That only makes it worse.”

“Can we still be brothers?”

“I do not see that I have a choice. We have been sent to do this thing together, and our lives may depend upon each other
if it is to be done. But afterward, after we return, I make you no promises.”

Carn turned to look at Braldt then, and though the
hatred and naked hostility was gone from his eyes, there was no sign of warmth or caring, either.

Braldt nodded slowly, realizing that the promise of temporary neutrality was all that he could hope for at the present time.
He repacked his pouch and refastened his robe as he rose to his feet. “Let us do this thing then, and return quickly so that
I may speak to Auslic and tell him how I feel. Come, brother. As Jos is wont to say, the sooner begun, a job is done.” He
extended his hand to Carn. Carn took it reluctantly and then stood to face Braldt, the two of them looking deep into each
other’s eyes, taking each other’s measure. Neither was reassured by what he saw.

Braldt began to suspect that they were being followed
during the long hours of the afternoon. They had crossed the boundary of the Duroni lands and were now traveling across the
softly undulating hills of the Forbidden Lands. The pace was slower than it had been, for Beast would not allow himself to
be picked up and he lagged well behind them. Carn’s ankle had begun to bleed and the bandage was stained crimson, but he would
not stop, shrugging off the wound even though Braldt could see that it was paining him.