Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Outsiders

‘I shall never let fear control me, but instead, learn to control the very things I fear.’ - Oath of the Monsterhunter.

I didn’t stop running for a long time. Not when my legs burned from the strain. Not when the ground gave way under me and I almost fell down a couple of times. Not even when the tears dried up and I saw that I was running toward something my mother always warned me to stay away from.

Only when I physically couldn’t run any further did I eventually stop. The sea of yellowish-green grass and bushes I was used to had been replaced by something I only knew from my old memories: the literal sea. I had never actually been taught how to swim, so going any further would most likely be a death sentence, and that got me to stop.

Just this morning, my will to live had been the only thing on my mind, and now I had run to the last place my family would look for me. Thinking about it again, I realized I hadn’t just wanted to survive back then. It wasn’t just that animalistic instinct to see another day. No, I wanted to live with my family, see the laughing faces of my sisters, my mother and all the other members of my new family and, for a moment, I thought about turning back, apologizing for running away... mother would probably scold me, but eventually, be glad I’m safe and Fela would joke about it, before drunkenly making me promise to never run away again.

The thought of that made me smile a bit, but the moment was suddenly interrupted when I felt a sting of pain in my left hand. It was still wrapped tightly, although the wrappings had become wet with seawater. Right, that was why I had run, after all. I had never heard of the kind of magic I had used back in that field, but it was obviously dangerous. If I returned to the tribe, I might be an even bigger threat than if Tasos were to cast his spells in the camp.

Tentatively, I pulled the cloth away from my hand but made sure it didn’t float away. The pale patch of skin was still there, but it seemed almost normal, as if it was just a recent wound closing up. Poking it with my other hand didn’t do much, but when I touched it with my mark, I got similar, if lesser, pain as the first time I touched it, but as soon as I separated my hands, it was gone again. The evidence of the grey was still there... it was still dangerous. This time I wrapped my hand looser, but still firm enough, that the cloth wouldn’t move.

The water was pretty cold and I eventually was forced back on land or risk cramping a muscle. The beach was a beautiful scene, though. Except for a lone piece of algae-covered driftwood, my Veng Tuba was the only thing laying on the sand. From above, the midday sun shone and, out at sea, I spotted something unexpected. It was little more than a dot on the horizon, but there was a ship gliding through the waves. It looked like a sailing ship with at least two masts, but I couldn’t be sure at this distance.

It was an utterly alien thing to my new common sense. The Eurota didn’t build any boats... Or permanent structures in general, for that matter, so I had never seen such a vessel. My mother had once warned me that they were bad omens, though. It was traveling parallel to the coastline and currently approaching my position.

After a while, I could also see the absurdly long flag hanging on the second mast as it fluttered in the wind. I couldn’t make out any details on it, but it was fun to watch as I dried in the sun. Plus, it gave me something to look at while I thought about my plans going forward.

If my affinity for magic truly was related to what had happened in the night, then I might have to give up on learning magic for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t uncommon for mages to not be of much use in combat - either because they lacked firepower, couldn’t cast fast enough, or for many other reasons - but not using magic at all was a rarity. It would mean I couldn’t help much with cooking and a lot of other tasks were also sped up by the use of it. That only really left animal care and some crafting jobs in the camp and, of course, food gathering, though that would be less relevant after spring.

Honestly, a part of me was disappointed that I would have to give up magic - even if only temporary - just a day after casting my first spell, but if I wanted to use it again, I would have to be able to control my powers. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long that would take.

Maybe I was overthinking this whole thing, anyway. Before the lessons, I hadn’t even bothered to ask Tasos how dangerous magic could be, but he had insisted on practicing it far away from the camp, anyway. Perhaps it wasn’t really all that uncommon for beginners to lose control like I had... But I feel like someone would have warned me more if my experience was the norm. There were just too many unknowns and the best hope at answers was back where I came from.

As I was contemplating my plans, I saw that the ship had just reached its closest point and was getting further away again. It was still too far to make out any details, but I thought I saw a few figures on the deck running around. They looked human enough, even if the one climbing their way up to the crow’s nest had what looked like a thick tail. Similar to ships, my contact with other species was basically non-existent. I only knew that there were a lot of Elves in the south and abandoned dwarven mines somewhere in the far east, but apparently, there were also races with tails; who would have guessed?

Giving the boat one last glance, I picked up my instrument, brushed off the sand clinging to it, and headed back inland. I was actually getting a bit hungry, so I started looking for a few snacks along the way and abusing my power proved as fruitful as always. My mark wasn’t seemingly done with that though, as I felt it guide me away from the food. The signal it was giving me, however, felt a bit weird. It was similar to a warning about a monster attack, but it felt... unclear, like I was looking through an unfocused lens or a cloudy window.

Eventually, it led me in the direction I had originally come from and I quickly found what it wanted me to see. Upon realizing what I was looking at, my blood ran cold and fresh panic rose in my chest. There was no monster or obvious threat on the plain. Only hoove marks.

About twenty to thirty in a brisk pace, yet not running or in a dash; they hadn’t been running away from something. The marks were less than a day old and I had probably just missed the group on my sprint away from the camp. If I interpreted the tracks right, they were almost completely made by hunters and no younger members or pack animals were among the group, so no spring migration. The most worrying detail, however, was that the trail headed straight west.

For the moment, that got my mind to drop the issue of my magic and focus on this new danger. Best-case scenario, these hunters were tracking an animal herd out west and just got uncomfortably close to where my tribe had hunkered down during winter, but my gut feeling - supported by my mark - was that they were entering our territory for less amicable reasons.

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If my navigational skill held true, my tribe was about half-a-day to the north-west and from an attacker’s point of view, a southern approach wouldn’t be a terrible plan of action. The proximity to the border meant that the hunting parties would be looking for prey further north. With the numbers of these invaders, they could probably engage the whole tribe and have reasonable chances, but if they managed to reach the camp while the main fighting force was away, the situation would be disastrous.

I didn’t lose any more time and sprinted the same path I had earlier, but this time I was filled with determination instead of panic. Going back, I realized how lucky I had actually been before; the ground was uneven and my mark often warned me about hidden animal burrows and loose stones. There was a real possibility for me to snap an ankle and have a nasty fall.

Once the sun had reached about halfway to the horizon, I saw the first signs of my destination. The small smoke plume rising from up behind the last hills had my blood freeze in my veins, and for a moment, I felt the adrenaline rush into my system, before I realized they didn’t seem to indicate an attack. If anything, they looked like the result of the oven fires.

When I crested the last hills, I saw that the camp was in a state of chaos, though there wasn’t any sign of enemies. I could see people rushing through the tents everywhere and no one seemed to pay much attention to my return until one of the older members said the chief was looking for me. Making my way through the camp, I realized what was going on. They were packing up the tents and getting ready to move.

In front of my family’s tent, I saw my mother giving orders to some men before she looked over in my direction.

“Charas, where exactly-“

“Mother, we have a pro-“

We both started at the same time, but I think my mom realized that I had something urgent to say and motioned for me to say my piece first, although I saw that she was a bit angry at me - probably due to me running away. I would most likely get a punishment for that later, but that required there still be a later to worry about.

“I think another tribe is planning to attack soon, or maybe they already did. I found some tracks to the southeast heading west. About twenty-five hunters, a day old at most.”

My mom just nodded once. “I know. Tayak’s squad was attacked earlier.” At my worried expression, she gave a small smile in response, before continuing, “Don’t worry, no one died, but they were forced back and retreated to camp. For now, you should help with the packing. I knew Efi would attack soon, but if she wants to let us go without bloodshed, then that’s fine by me.” I think she said that last sentence more to herself and didn’t elaborate. Her body language made it clear that the conversation was over.

Before I joined the others in their efforts, though, I slipped into the big tent and stored my instrument near my sleeping place. Then I looked through the few personal items I owned. I quickly found the gloves I was looking for, but the mittens were mainly meant for preserving body warmth during the winter months, so they offered little freedom of movement.

I contemplated cutting off the finger section and only covering my left palm with them, but after a few moments, I realized there was another solution to my predicament. My younger sister had gotten a pair of combat gloves this season, and her old training equipment was just collecting dust in the tent. She probably wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her old stuff for a while.

The gloves were exactly what I was looking for. The palm was covered by leather, while the fingers had enough flexibility to comfortably use a bow. Giving it a few taps with my mark, I felt nothing and was confident that it was safe to use my left hand with them on.

Exiting the tent again, I made my way over to the big communal tent. It would be the second-to-last structure to be loaded up and for now, was used as a sort of headquarters to organize the rest of the packing of the camp. I still lacked the physical strength needed to roll the tents up for transport, so I was mainly collecting smaller items and stuffing them into backpacks. A few people looked confused about me wearing a hunter glove on only one hand, but no one asked about it.

This obviously wasn’t the first time I helped with packing up for migration, but normally the process was done at a more leisurely pace and soon we were ready to move out. The hunters had apparently been busy keeping the other tribe at bay, but there hadn’t been any fighting and once we were moving, a few of our hunters had to help with the heavier loads. Normally the pack animals would carry the tents, but last winter a lot of them died, so the hunters had to help out.

I, for my part, carried mainly my own and a few of my sister’s belongings. My mother and Aya were at the front of the caravan, while Fela was in the rearguard with the other hunters. My position was right in the middle with most of the other non-combatants.