The Hunter (29 page)

And then he remembered. Keri! With barely a look at the crumpled figures beside him, he pulled on the rope, feeling the dead
weight dangling on the other end, wondering, hoping, that she was still alive. How long had he been unconscious? He cursed
himself for the lazy kark that he was, hoping, praying to the gods of the Duroni that the girl had not died. His arms trembled
like those of a child and he felt as though he would be sick, but he worked at the rope, feeling it inch its way upward, fearing
what he would find on the other end.

Keri’s head came into sight, lolling back at an awkward angle, deeply tinged with the ominous blue, her eyes rolled back in
their sockets. She did not seem to be breathing. Batta Flor pulled her over the edge onto the floor of the tunnel and loosened
the rope from her chest, seeing the deep indentations left by the coarse fiber. He dragged her to one of the slender cracks
in the rock, noting that darkness had all but arrived and placing her facedown, he began pressing on her back and then releasing
it in a semblance of breathing. Nothing happened. Batta Flor’s fingers were shaking when he turned her over; grasping her
chin in one hand and her nose in the other, he began breathing into her mouth as he had been taught to do. Hot tears filled
his eyes and dropped on her face. He continued his efforts long after he had reason to believe that he might succeed, simply
because to cease was to release her unto death. This he could not bring himself to do.

“Please, please don’t die,” he whispered. A bright silvery shape came into view through the slender crack in the stone and
even as he breathed into the girl’s mouth, he composed a prayer to the orb whom the Duroni believed to be their god. Batta
Flor had always been taught that there were no such things as divine beings, that everything in the universe had a cause and
an explanation, but at that moment, the lack of a greater being in whom one might place one’s fate meant that there was no
one and nothing who
could help Keri but he himself. And, he feared, that was not enough.

“Mother Moon, I speak to you as a Madrelli. I am not one of those who worship you, but this two-foot is. She is dying, Mother
Moon, and she deserves to live. For the sake of this Duroni who believes in you, please grant her life.”

No sooner had he thought the wish than he felt Keri stir beneath his hands. She turned her head to cough and the coughing
led to vomiting. Batta Flor held her head over the edge of the precipice and wiped her face clean with tears of joy streaming
down his muzzle. He did not know what it meant, and for the moment it was enough that she lived. But Batta Flor could not
ignore the fact that his prayers had indeed been answered.

Batta Flor could scarcely remember the journey back to
the dark lake. His head throbbed with pain and his eyes burned. His lungs felt as though they were afire, blazing anew with
every inhalation, and he was overcome with nausea on numerous occasions. But he suffered far less than his companions, all
of whom had stumbled and staggered along behind him, bound together with the rope tied around their waists.

It had been necessary to carry Carn a good portion of the way for he kept falling and bringing the others down with him since
he had descended the farthest and thus breathed in more of the bad air. Even now he lay still on the black sands, unmoving,
his skin an unnatural shade of grey, and Batta Flor wondered if he would survive. He would not miss the two-foot if he died
and he would have the satisfaction of knowing that he had done all that was possible to save the man.

Keri crouched beside the fire, shivering even though the air was warm and close, and brewed more of the bitter brew that the
Duroni seemed so fond of. Batta Flor took his own portion from her shaking fingers and was surprised to find that while it
warmed his insides it also seemed to ease the pain in his chest. He drank the rest without argument and felt greatly revived,
as the tight bands loosened their painful grip on his head.

Braldt was sitting up now, sipping the steaming brew from a gourd. His color was not good but at least he was alive. “You
saved our lives,” he said, looking Batta Flor directly in the eye. Batta Flor said nothing.

“You could have left us there and returned to your
people,” added Keri. “Why did you come after us, does the bad air not affect the Madrelli?”

“Madrelli die just as easily as Duroni if the air is bad. But to have left you would have been a thing without honor. It is
not the Madrelli way.”

“It is not the Duroni way, either,” said Braldt, “despite what you have come to know of us. I’m afraid you and your people
have seen only the worst of us. But from this day forward, you will be as a brother to us.”

“I accept the honor,” Batta Flor said gravely, then nodded at Carn’s still figure. “I assume that you are speaking for yourselves.
This one will never welcome me as kin.”

“You saved his life too,” Keri said passionately. “Not even Carn can ignore such a thing!”

Batta Flor looked at Carn dubiously, doubting that the man would be pleased to find himself beholden to a Madrelli, but seeing
Keri’s distress, he held his silence.

“Do…do you think he’ll be all right?” Keri asked tearfully. “He will not open his eyes and his heart is beating strangely;
it flutters inside his chest like a trapped bird.”

“I cannot say,” replied Batta Flor. “My knowledge of such things is limited. But it would seem that when the torches flare
and spit as they did, then we are entering an area of poisonous air. We should take careful note of this if it happens again.”

“Do you think that we can circle the lake?” Braldt stared at the far shore, wondering what dangers awaited them there.

“It is our only hope. If such a thing is not possible, then we must abandon this mission and return. Perhaps we have already
risked enough, my friend. We are all of us sick and this one is gravely ill and may die without attention. We have tried our
best, there will be no dishonor in admitting failure. Let us return to the world of light.”

Keri and Braldt looked at each other and then down at Carn’s still figure. Keri’s face was full of fear and her wishes were
all too obvious. Braldt looked into her face and
then uttered a single word, “Auslic,” and she lowered her eyes and nodded although her face reflected her sorrow.

“We cannot return, my friend,” Braldt said quietly, “even though we might wish it. Our wishes account for little; there are
matters of far greater importance at work here.”

“I only wish that our goals were alike,” Batta Flor said sadly. “Can you not see that if you succeed in your mission, it will
be the death of all of us? The hard ones and the masters are not benevolent beings. They care for us only so long as we serve
their needs. The Madrelli have dared to disobey them. They will crush us and return us to our former slavery. I can only guess
what they will do to you.”

“Why would they do anything to us? We have not hurt them in any way,” said Keri.

“Why can you not see,” Batta Flor said in exasperation. “They have gone to great lengths to conceal their presence from you.
Their very existence has been cloaked with mystery and mysticism to prevent you from learning about them. Mother Moon, the
God Fires, the Forbidden Lands, and all the various myths and legends that abound, all created with but one purpose in mind,
to keep themselves a secret. Now they need you to unravel the damage we have done, reverse the process so that they may land
once again. Once that is done, your knowledge of their existence will not be tolerated. You will be eliminated!”

“Eliminated?” Keri said in a whisper.

“Killed. Made dead. Without life,” Batta Flor said flatly. “They cannot risk allowing you to live, to return to the tribe
to report what you have seen.”

“But that would mean that you suspect some sort of communication between these hard ones and their masters and someone in
our tribe,” Braldt said slowly. “For how else would they have known what was needed.”

“Now, at last, you begin to see,” cried Batta Flor.

“How could that be!” asked Keri. “No one in the tribe would do such a thing. What would be the purpose?”

“I cannot tell you what the reason is,” replied Batta
Flor. “But it must be so. How else would these priests of yours know about the chamber?”

“The priests! You think that the priests…!” Keri was aghast at the very thought.

“Yes, it must be so,” Braldt said slowly. “Think, Keri! Think about what he is saying. It was the priests who told us to go.”

“No, Braldt, it was…!” argued Keri.

“We are still doing the priest’s bidding,” said Braldt, brushing aside Keri’s words. “It was their idea that we come. It was
they who put the picture of the chamber in our heads, told us what to do. The priests must be in league with these hard ones
and the masters. It’s all some kind of game and we have served as their pawns for years.” Braldt’s tone was bitter as he contemplated
the fact of the priests’ duplicity.

“You cannot think that this is so!” cried Keri. “Mother Moon would not let…”

“Mother Moon is nothing but a dead rock, just as the Madrelli have said all along,” Braldt interrupted harshly. “What better
way to keep us in line than to wrap us up in a religion crafted to meet their needs. They have been very clever, these masters.
But surely they did not plan for their slaves and their loyal pawns to piece the puzzle together. But it has now happened
and we will have a chance at determining our own future. Now, we will make our own decisions.”

Batta Flor was astonished at the two-foot’s massive leap in deduction, his ability to understand and believe that which literally
spelled the destruction of his religion as well as his way of life. But there was still another matter to be considered. One
far more important than personal feelings.

“Then you agree that the lever must not be thrown. If we can somehow enter the chamber and retrieve this metal box, which
you believe will save the life of your chief, there is no need to pull the lever as well.”

“We will have to think on this matter and discuss it further,” said Braldt. “At a later time,” holding up his hand as Batta
Flor opened his mouth to speak. “You have given
me more than enough to think on for one day. You have my word that we will discuss this again.” And even Batta Flor could
see that Braldt could be pushed no further.

Keri was sitting wide-eyed and pale before the fire, clutching a gourd of the hot drink to her chest with unfeeling fingers.
Batta Flor could feel her pain and knew that in destroying her religion, he had dealt her a cruel blow as well. But he also
knew that there were no words that he could offer that would comfort her.

They made no effort to move and spent the remainder of that day and night resting at the edge of the dark shore, exploring
the dangerous and disturbing new thoughts. As though by mutual agreement, there was no further talk on any but the most general
of topics.

Batta Flor repacked their pouches more efficiently and treated their various wounds. Even Beast allowed him to change the
dressing on his feet with no more than a token growl.

Keri tended to Carn who appeared to have fallen into a more natural sleep. She prepared their meals mechanically, without
thought.

Braldt scouted along the edge of the lake and reported that it appeared possible to circumvent the entire lake in safety.
What he did not report was that it appeared to be a trail that was well used and well maintained… and not by lizards.

Carn wakened on the following morning with a ravenous hunger and a terrible headache. He took in his surroundings with surprise
and ate his meal with downcast eyes, pausing only briefly when told of Batta Flor’s role in their heroic rescue.

Much to Batta Flor’s surprise, Carn wiped his hands on his robe and extended his hand in the curious two-foot manner of greeting.
Batta Flor took the proffered hand and held it, not knowing what was expected of him. Carn smiled and raised and lowered his
hand twice.

“Look, I know what you think of me. And you’re right. I’ve acted badly. But I am not so stupid as to not know the value of
my own life. I would not have attempted
to rescue you, had you fallen instead of me. I have been wrong.”

Total silence followed Carn’s words as the others stared at him in disbelief. It was the Madrelli who recovered first. “It
would please me greatly to call you friend.” Reaching out, he offered Carn his hand and when it was grasped, awkwardly raised
and lowered it several times, Duroni fashion, in some manner sealing the words. Everyone smiled at everyone else and for the
first time since they had been thrown into one another’s company, they felt a fragile semblance of unity and friendship.

Carn, it appeared, had suffered no lasting effects from breathing the bad air, and proclaimed himself willing and ready to
travel. He seemed to have attained a greater sense of teamwork as well as humility during his loss of consciousness and listened
to Braldt and Batta Flor outline the plan to circle the lake without a comment. Braldt and Batta Flor exchanged astonished
glances as Carn struggled into his backpack, then shared grins at the unexpected scope of their luck. “Perhaps we should find
a way to keep some of that bad air,” murmured Batta Flor. “Just in case he reverts.”