Spring had made its presence known as the sun warmed the southern O’Sid Fields, turning the winter’s green grasslands and rolling hills into golden brown grass that crunched when stepped on. Tall trees, with long thin leaves, shaded small pieces of the open plains.
Flocks of Traccu birds perched in isolated trees, watching for field mice and other rodents. Their sky blue color made the trees appear to be bearing fruit.
Prides of Tigras and packs of Beardogs were often seen resting in the shade of the trees when they weren’t hunting the local macrauachenia or other grass-feeders.
Herds of Chuttlebeasts could be seen roaming the land devouring anything dead or alive, as the small Koa birds picked ticks and other insects off their backs. Spooked easily, the herds would stir up a spiral of twisted wind and dust sometimes as high as the Lu’Tythis Tower.
With most of her decorative plants dead, Gluic began replacing them with feathers of local birds. It wasn’t long before they were in her hair, shoes, and made into necklaces and bracelets.
Santorray watched from the top of a hill as a distant herd split in two, just before the group walked down into the next small valley. “Keep your eyes on the herds. Always assume Chuttles are ready to attack. They change direction without warning. Never let your guard down, they are a powerful Fesh.”
Lips dry, skin burnt from the sun, and eyes sore from squinting from the glare, the Nums had little interest in the distant Chuttles. They didn’t even acknowledge the advice.
Thorik walked up front with Santorray. “Santorray, I have to ask you, what exactly is the prophecy of Ambrosius’ son?”
“Ambrosius’ son will slay Darkmere’s son if he is not sacrificed on Eve of Light.”
“Yes, I know that part, but there has to be more to it.”
“It was foreseen by the Dark Oracle, Deleth. Then told to his student, Darkmere, who has lived with the threat over his son all his life.”
“When we were on the captain’s ship, did you say you had something to do with the prophecy?”
Santorray glared down at the Num. “The Nectar of Irr affected your hearing.”
“Possible. I don’t recall a lot from that night,” Thorik said with a laugh. “So, Darkmere has been hunting down Ericc since he was born. What a terrible life for him.”
“If it was so terrible, why did Ericc leave his safe haven?”
“Valid question. But what I don’t understand is why he needs to be sacrificed during a specific time and place?”
“The Eve of Light is a sacred time. It only lasts for a few moments on one day of the year, when the sun finally reaches high enough in the sky to cast light over the Shi’Pel Peaks and onto the Surod Temple.”
“Again, why sacrifice Ericc? And why does it need to be at a specific temple on that day?”
“Do you know nothing about Surod?”
“No, I don’t,” Thorik said honestly.
“How have you Nums survived with such little knowledge?” It was a rhetorical question, which he knew Thorik would try to answer if he gave him time, so he didn’t. “Surod is the birthplace of all species. The Notarians forged the first of each of our kind in that temple on that day, during that small window of time. It is a gateway to life beyond the Fesh. It is a portal to the souls we carry inside us. Without this temple, all creations by the Notarians would have been mindless beasts reacting instinctively to their environment instead of having freewill to create something more.”
“Rubbish!” Brimmelle announced from behind them, displaying the soul-markings on his arm. “Nums are the only ones who have souls. Each unique. Each given by the Mountain King to give us purpose. Altereds may have ability to crudely communicate, but they don’t have souls.”
Santorray glanced over at Thorik. “Perhaps not everyone obtained the full level of soul and thought that was provided.”
Thorik grinned before returning to the topic. “I now understand about the emotional tie to Surod for embedding souls into new species. But what does that have to do with Ericc?”
“It’s an opening for souls to pass through, regardless which way they travel. When the Notarians created a new species it was void of any soul, so one would flow into it. Sacrificing someone with a soul at the Eve of Light allows the soul to pass back to the beyond, never to return.”
“Isn’t killing him enough?”
“No, you can kill a man’s body and leave his soul amiss. You know not where it will revive itself, whose new child will be taken over with it, whose ailing body it can capture, or where it may linger and haunt. To kill someone as powerful as an E’rudite you must make sure you do it correctly.”
“Ericc’s not an E’rudite… is he?”
“He has the lineage, so he has the potential. The question is if he knows his powers.”
Reaching the top of the hill the group stopped. The herds they had seen before had split up and now were collected into several smaller groups, which encircled the hill where the party now stood on.
Chuttlebeasts always became chaotic this time of year. Shedding of their thick wool left trails of dark brown coarse fiber across the fields, which prompted their mating season. In addition, they were getting anxious to migrate north before the summer heat swept the plains.
Aside from narrow gaps between the gatherings, Thorik’s party didn’t see any other options available to leave the hilltop.
“We should wait them out,” Brimmelle suggested.
Santorray looked up at the sun as sweat poured down his body. “No shade, little water and the Num’s sensitive skin does not bode well for your plan. It could be hours or even days before they move on.”
Thorik pointed toward the largest of gaps between herds. “Chuttles can’t see well. If we quietly and calmly walk in the larger openings, we could make it without them knowing we were here.”
“Have you smelled one up close?”
“Yes, so let’s not get too friendly.”
“Agreed.”
The group moved lightly down the hill into the next shallow valley. Dry grass cracked under their feet, causing them to move at an extremely slow pace to minimize the sound.
As they entered the passage between the herds, the ceaseless shifting of beasts continuously reshaped their path. Snouts blew and hooves scratched the ground when the beast started to sense something amiss.
Covering their faces with their clothing didn’t stop the stench from the Chuttles, which burned the group’s eyes, noses and throats. Tolerable for a short period of time, it wouldn’t be long before the headaches would begin, leading to fainting. It was fortunate that they still had distance enough not to smell them up close.
Halfway through, the passage closed completely, merging the two herds into one.
The travelers stopped, signaled by Thorik who then pointed for them to return the way they came. But it wasn’t more than a few steps back before their retreat was closed off as well. They were trapped.
Each member looked around for options, afraid to speak for it may alert the Chuttles. The smell was getting worse as the Chuttles closed in on them. Headaches began to affect them, followed by dizziness.
Thorik had fallen to his hands and knees as he watched Gluic pass out, followed by Brimmelle and Avanda. Santorray was down to one knee, swaying, ready to slap his upper body hard against the ground. Thorik had to try something. He had to try anything.
Jumping out of Avanda’s side bag, Ralph ran up on her shoulder. Mouth wide open, he turned his body around in a circle, hissing at the Chuttles in an effort to fend them off. He was the only one not affected as he pumped his body up and down to ward off the creatures.
Taking the Spear of Rummon out, Thorik stabbed it into the ground before him. A wave of pressure rushed out in every direction, knocking over Santorray, but leaving the Chuttles standing on their strong four legs. A loud roar from the spear could be heard by the entire Chuttle gathering, as well as distant herds. A deep pounding in the ground followed.
Chuttlebeast for tens
of miles around stopped in their tracks, feeling the pulsing in the ground. Instincts took over as the mating call of the female Chuttle drummed on the O’Sid Fields. The distant Chuttles charged toward the direction of origin of the sound.
The local Chuttles, on the other hand, began battling each other for the rights to what they believed was a female in heat. Massive heads knocking up against each other resounded across the landscape as hundreds of beasts exploded into a show for dominance.
Strangely enough the dirt being kicked into the air reduced the potency of the Chuttle’s smell, giving Santorray and Thorik a slight reprieve from their reaction.
Ralph scurried back into Avanda’s pouch as he saw Santorray approach.
Large cubic-shaped heads of the Chuttles crashed together as the seven to eight-foot tall wild beasts ran over anything in their paths. Many of the creatures fell to the ground after being knocked unconscious from such head to head strikes.
Picking up Brimmelle with one arm and throwing Avanda and Gluic over his other shoulder, Santorray fought his way across the landscape. Swinging his free arm, he pounded hard against the woolly Fesh’Unday in his way.
A full body block was needed at one point to move the tail end of a Chuttle far enough for him to force his way through. Nearly dropping his companions during the move, he avoided performing it again. Instead, he used his razor sharp bony blades across his back and elbow to inflict enough pain to make the crazed creatures steer clear.
Thorik removed the spear from the ground, but the earth continued to shake from the Chuttlebeasts in heat. At twice his height, Thorik was more likely to be stepped on than rammed. Rolling under wool-matted stomachs and between kicking legs, the Num dodged the best he could with his head spinning from the fumes. Reaching the edge of the turmoil and seeing Santorray, he dove under the last beast, only to be kicked in the head, knocking him out cold.
Chapter 27
Corrock