Tobias Roote - [The Sar Chronicles - The Grith 01] Read online

  Never before had they been communicated with on a level that had shown awareness, understanding and respect. She knew she could use that new knowledge and other thoughts that had seeped from the younglings mind to hers.

  Mixed with the extreme cunning and courage that she already possessed, she intended to forge anew the relationships with her pride. She felt the tiny tug of the tendril that was still attached to her by the two-legger. It didn’t bother her, quite the opposite, she was proud of it. It was nothing any of her pride would understand, or even be aware of. Still, it was a comfort that stayed with her, and she knew that when the time came she would meet the youngling again.

  She loped off unseen into the undergrowth. She had her own pride to care for, they had gone hungry because of her decision. Now she must make sure they fed well. That was duty and responsibility, and she accepted it with grace. Their size and the growing numbers meant she would soon be the only Grith leader in the territory.

  Yes, interesting that the two-leggers assumed that four-leggers were of limited intelligence. All except for that youngling, and she accepted life commitment for that one, in return for knowledge gained.

  As the Grith slunk away unnoticed into the dark void of the remaining night, another mind was trying to weigh-up events it had stumbled upon. Its dark, evil thoughts dwelt on the little it had discovered. Not having registered any of the activities involving the Grith it had nonetheless detected the power behind the mind. The observer knew something significant had occurred this evening; what it didn’t know, and that gave it pause. A new mind, untrained and powerful? He needed to deal with it immediately. He sent out a command to hunt the owner down and ensure they met with an accident. The hunters would not fail.

  He detected another observer, immediately recognising the mental signature. He remained undetected while it searched the ether. One day soon that mind would be his to control, in the meantime it was best they didn’t even know he existed. He removed his presence and moved onto other matters.

  ***

  Krendar was no fool, he’d climbed to his status as First Lord Watcher by controlling events over a long period of time and crippling any serious competition, often with help from others of his cabal. He instinctively understood wild talents that spread undetected throughout the realm posed the biggest threat to his detailed and comprehensive plans for control of the Sar governing bodies. So, when he sensed the unknown talent that was Aaron, he used his Watcher skills to sweep the sky for traces so he could set his dogs on them.

  His search took him further than he expected and at the extreme limit of his range he could detect a mind that was unskilled, but could, if honed and trained properly, be more than a match for his. Whilst he was unable to pin down its location, he did detect traces of familiar mental signatures that filled him with anger. “Melbray,” he spluttered as recognition threatened to unravel his sweep.

  He also sensed Melbray’s sidekick, the interfering Junto, a constant thorn in Krendar’s side, and Gedrack, who was the more dangerous of the two. So here it was, he thought, the end of the ferrel’s tether. He would finally have to deal with them. He was too close to realising his amibitions to allow them to interfere now. His instincts, honed to a sharp point from years of subterfuge, told him that their knowledge of the wild talent out there would bode ill for his plans. “This will not do,” he muttered to himself decidedly.

  “Kreebo, attend me now,” he ordered his secretary from his sleep. He sensed a mind in confusion, attempting to rally itself to do Krendar’s bidding and chuckled maliciously. The man was a fool, but useful nonetheless. He had limited talent, more importantly a devious and sneaky mind. He made an excellent secretary using his skills deftly keeping them hidden from their enemies whilst discovering the dissenters, and neutralising them before they had an opportunity to gain momentum.

  The skittering of feet brought Kreebo’s thin lanky body into the room at a pace that threatened to collide with Krendar. As he reached him, the other pulled up sharp and now stood panting a little from running up the stairs and the length of the corridor that consisted of the First Lord’s lair.

  “You summoned me?” he gasped, wondering why the First Lord hadn’t just mentally commanded him in his bed instead of making him run to him like a lowlife apprentice.

  “This isn’t for the ether, Kreebo,” Krendar responded having read the idle thought emanating from his secretary’s leaky mind. He chose to remind him of his lack of shield by answering the unspoken thought.

  “This is personal and will remain so. You will pass all instructions on this matter by mouth not mind, understood?”

  Kreebo nodded submissively realising he had not been circumspect in his thoughts. He immediately clamped his shield down tight.

  The other smiled approvingly.

  “You need to send out our little pet soldiers tonight. We have a problem with those meddling fools of Melbray’s. It is time to bring them to heel.” He paced while Kreebo’s mind doggedly attempted to shake off the last vestiges of sleep and follow the man’s words. Krendar usually got pretty nasty if his instructions weren’t followed explicitly.

  “Send them out in this direction here,” he indicated a point on an old wall map that had remained intact for centuries, left over from before the ‘sickness’. “Along the way you should find the three of them, due back here from the Reaches. I don’t wish for them to arrive - officially. Don’t harm them – yet. We may have need before we are through here. Return them undetected to the shielded cells below. Make sure they take a ‘Blanker’ with them - no word is to get out to their allies here in the Tower.”

  “I will order it done now, Krendar. Is there anything else?” Kreebo checked.

  “Yes, there is one other matter.” Krendar looked him directly in the eye. “There is a wild talent out there tonight, it has somehow communicated with Melbray and his associates. If they avoid your soldiers and arrive with a stranger, I want them brought to me before they gain the Tower’s protection. This talent is too powerful, and you know what that means.”

  Kreebo quailed. As far as he was aware there had been only one other killing of a talent and he’d had to be there while the guards carried it out. Krendar had insisted on watching through him, not able to be directly involved in case of discovery. He had no stomach for killing, but didn’t object if it was done out of his sight. He sighed. Krendar was watching him closely trying to read through his shield. Kreebo tucked it tighter around his thoughts.

  “Yes, First Lord. I understand what is required.”

  Krendar grunted in satisfaction, he’d seen nothing in Kreebo’s mind. The man had got the message and locked his thoughts away as he’d been taught.

  - 6 -

  It was approaching mid morning when, feeling more rested from his ordeal, Aaron was sufficiently recovered to take stock of his situation.

  He had been outcast from his village, but his father, ever the practical one, had placed a small package in his hand, closing his fingers over it to impress Aaron to keep it safe. He had forgotten it, but now took it from his small sack.

  Within were the makings of a fire, the one thing he would need more than anything. That, and some fish-hooks and twine, meant he could catch his favourite meal. At that moment he felt a pang of regret, realising how much he missed his parents. He had brought this on himself, yet he was practical, recognising that his life had taken on a new direction. It felt right, and he now understood that his response to the Elders at the threat of being muted, had caused him to respond defensively. It had not been his fault - they had asked too much of him, and given too little.

  He did not regret what had occurred, they would have damaged his mind and he was not going to accept that from them, from anyone. Feeling much improved, having reconciled his actions with his conscience, he prepared to move on. As Aaron had nothing to eat, and needed water, he walked along the side of the cliff looking for a spring.

  The experience of last night with the Grith had sobe
red him. He realised that these creatures had the same telepathic capabilities as he and other Sar, but without the power to use it. He was unaware of anyone previously communicating with a Grith as he had. The female had clearly been aware of what he was doing, realising he was talking to her 'mind to mind', pointing out arguments against eating him, and she had accepted them.

  As he walked a growing roar caught his attention. When finally he turned a corner in the cliff, the thunderous noise of a waterfall assaulted his senses.

  He thanked his good fortune and hurried down toward the large pool at its base, taking out the flat water bottle from his sack. The bottle expanded as it filled from the deep clear water. He drank, then topped it up and hung it from his side.

  Directionless, and without any idea of a destination, Aaron decided he could only keep walking until something happened. Following the route of the water seemed a better decision than any other, and he thought it might yet get him somewhere to fish for his dinner. So, with his hunger pushing him on, he followed the growing stream through the rocky gorges that it had created. Sometimes he had to go round, or clamber over outcroppings of rock until he came to an area where the water joined a larger section, and became a fast flowing river.

  Now, he began to see likely places to catch food, and as he walked, he spliced a hook to the twine, searching out grubs to load onto it. A fat Razzer would do nicely, he thought.

  An hour later he broke through an overgrown patch of scrub, arriving at an ideal spot to cast his line. The pool at the edge looked perfect and he threw in the loaded hook, landing just past the centre of the slack water, a good enough place. The twine remained floating, barely visible.

  The wriggling grubs tormented the twine forcing the first foot of it to sink beneath the surface where it was visible to fish. This was virgin territory and the underwater denizens had never had to worry about hooks. So, within a few minutes of trawling, Aaron had two fish on the side on the bank, wrapped up in jarrup leaves to keep from drying out while he found a suitable place to start a fire.

  With nothing to cook but fish, it was a quick meal. Aaron, feeling better for it, packed up the few things he owned and made off down river to find a better location to make camp for that night.

  So sure of his seclusion and unaware of any threat through his talent, he failed to notice a small hunting party of Nangarl had been attracted by the smell of cooking and were investigating. He had unwittingly ventured into their fiercely guarded territory.

  Nangarl were close cousins to the Sar languishing in the backwaters of a world that had moved on centuries ago. Strangely, the Sar had become completely oblivious to their existence. The reason for that would shortly become evident.

  Aaron continued to make progress downstream, but the chicanes and crevices were making the way difficult. When he found the water was developing into rapids, and dropping sharply into gulleys where he could not follow, he climbed. The cliffs caused him to concentrate hard. He did not see the group of Nangarl following him. Had he done so, he would probably have fallen from the precarious cliff-face he was scaling. Whilst looking like Sar, they had a distinctive lack of civilisation about them, and they were stalking him as though he was prey.

  Aaron reached a plateau at the top of a steep climb and began to follow the route of the river, which continued to race through the gulley cut sixty foot below. The terrain was rugged, plenty of rocks and windswept trees breaking an otherwise barren landscape.

  Behind him, unseen, the Nangarl, having watched him struggle with the climb, practically ran up it, adept, strong and extremely agile. They reached the top in minutes then watched him intently as he followed the course of the river that cut deeply into the canyon.

  Aaron approached the edge that jutted out from the main section of cliff, but after looking down, he faltered, the sight of thrashing foamy water below heightening his concerns, which were sensing something was amiss. He wrongly thought it was proximity to the edge.

  Turning to retreat back to the main path he found his way blocked by four big Nangarl males, who had crept up on him, their approach having been drowned out by the roar of the tempest below. Aaron was not immediately afraid, his curiosity outweighed his experience of living out in the wild. He hadn’t yet learned to be wary, especially of other Sar.

  Their clothing was strange. Aaron had never seen such cloth and texture, it looked rough, as if hand stitched. He didn’t recognise anything about them, except they were Sar, but seemed different in an unexplainable way. They carried weapons, which had been unnecessary for centuries, as emote could, and did, resolve all issues amongst them without force.

  That they now pointed these at him, jabbing threateningly, left him bemused. With no experience on how to deal with the situation, he suddenly felt vulnerable although not yet afraid.

  He attempted to read the intent from their minds, and broadcast calm and passive emotes at them, expecting them to react immediately by lowering their weapons and stepping back.

  They ignored his strong disarming thoughts and continued to stalk him. Seeing him carrying nothing, but a small hunting knife, they didn’t expect any fight from him and Aaron had no experience of physically defending himself from anyone. Sar never fought.

  He could read nothing from them. Their minds weren’t just closed, they didn’t register at all. His own emote thoughts just bounced off them - how could that be?

  He decided to try talking to them and phrased his words carefully.

  “I don't want any trouble, I'm not doing any harm - just passing through.”

  Unused to hearing his own voice, he nonetheless noticed the tremor of fear in it.

  “You leave - not belong here - you discover our village - we no longer safe,” the swarthier one replied with the strangest accent and limited vocabulary that Aaron had ever heard. The Nangarl closed the distance between them and thrust his weapon aggressively at Aaron’s chest.

  Aaron flinched, was forced to step back but there was no more ground on which to stand. As his balance forced him off the ledge he felt satisfaction emanating from them. No longer threatened by his talent they had unshielded at the last moment, and he realised they never intended to hurt him directly, just force him off the edge, so the torrent below would do their work. As he began to fall he snatched what he could from their minds, then he was falling and all he could hear was the roar of the rapids below.

  - 7 -

  The last thing Aaron saw was them grinning at him as their faces disappeared from sight, to be replaced by the view of the cliff as he fell. Then the icy water, still freezing from its route down the mountainside, flooded through his light clothing, shocking him to his core as the water closed over his head. He surfaced seconds later, catching a breath as the cold numbed the back of his head making it difficult to concentrate.

  The current caught him and dragged him back under. He struggled against it until finally his feet made contact with the bottom giving him enough purchase to lever himself off a submerged rock. At the same time he fought against the force of water attempting to drive him further downstream. Aaron pushed hard with his legs up towards the surface. His ability to hold his breath almost gave out then, and while he struggled with the current his lungs took in water. Desperately suppressing the urge to cough and let in more, he struggled to the surface and took a breath of freezing air that made his teeth ache, then splashing and paddling he reached the edge of the canyon wall.

  His hands found a small ledge and as he tried to gain a tenuous grip, the loose stone fell away in his hand and threw him back into the tumultuous flow, forcing him under again. His freezing body jarred in agony as his back impacted against a partially submerged rock, the pain only partially dulled by the penetrating cold. As he rolled with the swirling current he surfaced yet again, coughing and spluttering, his strength ebbing dangerously as the cold sucked out the remaining strength in his arms and legs.

  His numb face was now so frozen he was unable to keep his mouth and nose closed
against the invading water. Aaron felt himself weaken as he slipped under the surface again. This time he had no energy left to pull himself back up. The desire to do so was fast leaving him as hypothermia took hold and his limbs lost feeling.

  Then, something nudged him. He thought he was losing it, then decided it might be something he could grab so when it nudged him again, he tried desperately to grasp it, but couldn’t feel anything with his hands so flailed uselessly.

  Then something clamped hard around his arm, pulling him upward. As he broke the surface, he coughed up gouts of freezing water, pulling in an agonising lungful of air. With extreme difficulty, he tried to turn his head to see what had taken hold of him...

  ...and came face to face with the sodden furry features of a Grith. It looked very different with matted hair and bulging eyes, almost unrecognisable. Now he was to be a frozen dinner, he couldn’t believe his bad luck.

  It was holding him in its strong jaw, the large incisors clamped over his bicep, looking fiercely at him as it tried to keep its own head above water. Several times Aaron noticed it snort hard, as water engulfed its large nostrils, which then closed, the pressure forcing the water out, before opening again, sucking in more air.

  Aaron rallied, forcing himself to think clearly. He ‘emoted’ at the animal hoping to bend it to his will and instead of eating him, carry him to safety. The mental signature he encountered was recognisable - it was the Grith he had melded with, was it only last night? It had jumped in after him and now had him in its jaw, doing what - trying to save him?

  Realising that if he did nothing the probability was they would both drown, Aaron tried again to emote the Grith, but found that his mind was now too numb from the cold. Instead he pulled himself round so that he could grab the creature’s mane with his hand. He still felt nothing, but knew he had made contact with something. He commanded his fingers to hold onto whatever was in his grasp and was pleased when he saw his hand briefly as the Grith lunged forward again, his arm still in her mouth. His other hand was holding onto the fur along its neck.