11. Galene
Chapter eleven
Galene
M y fists are balled tight as I walk through the fields near the village. I tried pleading with my father not to make me go on the hunt, but he was adamant and had promised my Task would be complete on my return.
If going on the hunt means I can finally wash my hands of the Oathlander, then that is what I must do. Not like I have much of a choice anyway—if I said no, I wouldn’t complete my Task. And after everything I’ve already done, everything I’ve already done for Tarin, that’s not an option.
The sun is high in the air, drifting in and out of the heavy dark clouds, as we leave the fields and enter the barren grassland of the Brownlands.
I know why I’m here. It’s because I am unwed and without a child. I’m seen by many as a disgrace and an unwanted pariah. What good is a woman who refuses to settle down and start a family?
It’s not my fault I’ve never met a man I was interested in. And I certainly have liked none of the eligible men that others have tried to set me up with. Most boys are intimidated by me, and the older men want someone more agreeable and less opinionated.
We’ve spent half a day traveling so far, going slowly by foot. I’ve heard many stories about what hunting is like, but I never knew how boring it could be.
Bohan, leading the group, points ahead. “There. The foothills of the Shadowstand Mountains. That is where we will find the boar.”
The other hunters, Zayne and Wills, are quietly surveying the surrounding land, their eyes constantly moving. I’m surprised that Freddick is with us, as he is a new hunter and has never been on a proper hunt beyond the village. He may be in his twentieth year, but he acts more like a na?ve, innocent teenager. But now his expression is dour, and he hasn’t spoken this entire trip. I can see how much he’s mourning his father, and it breaks my heart.
Wisely, we have not given the Oathlander a weapon, so the hunters are the only ones carrying spears, knives, and bows and arrows. I keep my dagger sheathed on my belt, although I don’t intend to use it.
I sense Tarin walking closer to me and ignore him until he finally speaks.
“I know you don’t want my company,” he says. “But you will be happy to know that I will be leaving the village once we return.”
I turn to him sharply, and cannot help the exasperated sigh that escapes me. I shake my head. “My father told me my Task with you will be complete on my return. He didn’t mention that you will also be leaving. ”
It was smart of my father not to mention that. I would have stayed behind if I had known that the outsider would leave regardless if I went on the hunt or not.
“I won’t be happy until you have your back to the village,” I tell him.
There’s a strained, troubled look on him when he clears his throat. “I want to apologize.”
“For your odor?” I say. “There is no apologizing for that.”
“For my people,” he says, which catches me off guard. “I… did not know of the murder of your mother ten years ago. Can you tell me more about it? I might remember something if I knew more about it.”
“I care not what you know,” I say. “Do not ask me about my mother again.”
“Why are you always trying to get into our business?” Bohan asks, turning towards us as we walk. He adjusts the longbow on his back as he gives Tarin a challenging look.
“I mean no offense,” Tarin shrugs. “I’m a curious creature. And I’d like to help where I can, as I have your people to thank for being alive.”
Bohan sniffs violently. “You can thank us by shutting up and staying out of our way.”
I think that should be the end of it, but Tarin surprises me by continuing to speak.
“I might know a few things about hunting and fighting that I could teach you.”
A booming laugh explodes from Bohan. Zayne and Wills join in with low chuckles.
“There is nothing an outsider can teach me,” Bohan says. “Enough with this nonsense. ”
I’m glad Tarin has the sense to leave it at that. He must have sensed what I did. If he’d continued to push Bohan, the Head Hunter would likely have attacked him.
We walk for some time with the sun beaming down on us. I watch the shifting shape of a group of birds passing through the sky. The pack over my shoulder is beginning to feel heavy and annoying.
Zayne addresses Tarin. “What part of the Oathlands are you from?”
It takes Tarin a few seconds to answer, which tells me he is thinking of a lie.
“The city center,” Tarin says. “Are you familiar with the Oathlands?”
“I visited when I was younger,” Zayne says. “I was not born a Shanti. I grew up in The Kingdom.”
Tarin raises his brows, and my expression matches his. I never knew Zayne was from the Kingdom. He stands at over six feet with a powerful build, deep-set dark eyes, and a thick square jaw. His complexion is lighter and creamier than an average Shanti, but I’ve never considered that to mean he was an outsider. From the non-reactions of the other hunters, I take it that Zayne’s heritage has not been a secret from them.
“A Kingdom folk among the Shanti?” Tarin says. “How did that happen?”
“I… did not enjoy my upbringing,” Zayne says. “I decided to leave in my late teens. I traveled the land for a time. I met many decent Oathlanders. Your people are very welcoming, and you like to feed people.”
Tarin chuckles. “We do. ”
“Eventually I found the Shanti People, and I was accepted among them,” Zayne says. “I have been one of them for almost thirty years now.” His voice drops into melancholy.
I want to ask why Zayne is being so open with him. Why are we entertaining this Oathlander?
Something draws Bohan’s attention. He straightens and takes a few steps toward the rolling hills in the south. The land steadily grows greener with an abundance of life, and it’s through a thin woods that I see what Bohan has noticed.
Far to the south, a hundred or so soldiers are marching in close formation. They are hard to see, but their gleaming white armor catches the sun and makes them stand out against the rolling fields.
We stop to watch the distant figures through the trees.
“Are those… Kingdom Soldiers?” Freddick asks, a hint of fear in his low voice.
“What are they doing?” Wills asks.
“It doesn’t concern us,” Bohan says with some annoyance.
“They are training,” Tarin says. “Soldiers will often march across the surrounding lands to remain familiar with the land and keep their fitness up. Also, it acts as a reminder to anyone who may be looking that the military is present and organized.”
“He is correct,” Zayne says.
“I didn’t think the Kingdom ventured this far out, so close to the Wilderness. ”
“They are far enough away not to bother us, so we do not need to bother them,” Bohan says, and nods for us to keep walking.
“Our Oathlands Military would also march,” Tarin says, half in thought. “But we do so less for the show of it, unlike the Kingdom.”
Bohan seethes through his teeth. “You think you Oathlanders are so much better than everyone else. Better than us Shanti.”
“That’s not true,” Tarin says. “I just think we have our customs, and you have yours.”
Bohan points a frustrated finger at him. His other hand is on his longbow, I note. “You are not here to speak, outsider. That is enough from you.”
Tarin’s gaze and his tone remain cool. “I was simply saying there is nothing wrong with training and discipline. You wouldn’t understand that, though. Because you know so much already.”
Bohan’s eyes flash with murder. He unslings the bow and quiver of arrows and strides toward Tarin. “I said that’s enough! I will show you who the stronger fighter is.”
I tense and back away, not wanting to be near the ensuing fight.
Bohan shoves Tarin in the chest, but Tarin moves like a flash of lightning and suddenly Bohan’s hand is twisted and he has dropped to a knee. Tarin stands there calmly with Bohan’s bent wrist in his hand. I can see Bohan wants to break free, but the hold looks to be too strong.
“That’s enough!” I yell.
Tarin remains there for a second longer before releasing his hold. Bohan pants heavily and rubs his sore wrist as he stands and backs away, his blazing eyes locked on Tarin. I’ve never seen someone so easily overpower a big man like Bohan before. I have a feeling that Tarin could have easily broken his wrist if he’d wanted to.
Freddick blows out a breath. “That was a really cool move. Can you teach me that?”
“Perhaps another time,” Tarin says with a slight grin.
We continue toward the foothills of the mountain.
Along the way, we check the rabbit traps hunters had set up across the area. Every now and then, the hunters take us off course to check a metal box hidden in the underbrush.
Zayne and Wills explain to Tarin that the small cages contain kimisol flowers within. The violet petals emit an aroma that helps people sleep and dulls their senses, and is also used to help injured people recover faster. We place the kimisol petals in the cages to entice small critters like rabbits and foxes, and when they enter, the cage door drops and traps them inside. They peacefully fall asleep until we come and take them. We pick out a few rabbits from the cages as we go, and place them in a sack.
“The smell is familiar,” Tarin says to me. “Do you put some in tea?”
“In the tea I made for you,” I nod. “The one you refused on account of it being poisoned.”
“The one you threw across the tent,” he pushes back. But then his voice softens. “My fault for not trusting you.”
That almost sounds like an apology. I turn away from him and no longer pay him attention. But I do eventually find myself gazing over at him. I note how toned his arms are, which speaks of years of training. And how plump and pouty his lips are. I have to admit how impressed I am at the keen intelligence in his eyes as he studies the surrounding land. I’m beginning to see there is more to this Oathlander than I realized.
After some time, I see Tarin has fallen behind with Freddick. I listen to their talk without looking back.
“How are you holding up?” Tarin asks.
Freddick doesn’t give a response.
“I know this isn’t an easy time for you.” Tarin’s voice is filled with surprising warmth and compassion. “Losing a father is never easy. I want you to know that it’s okay to mourn. To feel bad. It’s okay to do whatever you want. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve.”
Freddick sniffs. “I don’t know what to do without him. He did everything for me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“When my father passed,” Tarin says, his strained voice showing great depths, “I lost myself in the bottle. I lost sight of myself completely for a while. My brother tried to get me back, but in the end, only I could help myself. I realized I should make my father proud and work to become the best man I could be. For him.”
“When does it get easier?” Freddick asks, sounding like he’s close to tears.
“That’s different for everyone,” Tarin says. “In some ways, the pain is always with you. But you learn to live with it.” He claps Freddick on the shoulder. “You will get through this. I can see there is a great warrior inside you.”
I glance back to see Freddick giving him a confused look .
Tarin points at Freddick. “It’s in your eyes. I’ve seen it before. That warrior inside. Trust me.”
That seems to cheer Freddick up and he walks with his shoulders higher. I watch Tarin for a moment, wondering what kind of a man he really is. That was a nice thing he’d done for Freddick. I hate how it shows some goodness in his heart. Unless he has an ulterior motive for acting so nice.
He is a man full of surprises.
We eventually reach the rocky foothills of the Shadowstand Mountains, the peaks of which loom over us and block out the sun. We won’t have to climb high up the mountain as the wild boars are known to stay low within the winding paths of the foothills. They feed off the rich weeds and shrubs growing between the rocks.
Bohan and the others hear something that I don’t, and he directs us up a pathway. We enter a passage filled with trees and come out to an open glade surrounded by jagged rock.
Something enormous crashes through the tree line above the jagged rock and comes hurtling down toward us. A massive boar lands and roars at us. But this is no ordinary boar, this one is three times bigger than any I’ve ever seen, and it appears to be highly enraged. My muscles soften like jelly at the sight of the powerful beast.
The boar roars and charges at us.