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looked the same and all had horns, some rudimentary, others long and lethal.
They tore at the sparse vegetation with grindstone teeth, tearing it up by the
roots, crunching soil and stones with each mouthful. If there had ever been
trees on this plain, they were all gone now. And he saw that the animals were
nothing like as bulky as the ones he'd seen in Ardharkria. In comparison they
were thin, their flesh pulled tight over their bones.
As he began to weave his way between them, they stopped eating and stared at
him with a weirdly knowing hostility.
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Rufryd was holding his breath, walking on knives. If he just kept going it
would be fine, he could get through them.
Then one broke away, came charging towards him. The ground shook under its
hooves. It had four great horns lowered at his chest and he had seen a monster
like this before, knew that arrows would only stick uselessly in its hide...
Rufryd set an arrow to the string, hauled it taut, and shot.
The arrow sank straight into the creature's eye, skewering its brain.
It went down, somersaulting with its momentum before its bulk hit the ground.
Those around it scattered, trotting leadenly away.
Rufryd pushed sweat off his brow. He was shaking. One of these days his deadly
aim was going to fail. The smell that emanated from the cattle was musty like
rotting earth, and it was familiar, dragging up a dozen strange and horrible
memories of Ardharkria. He ran to the fallen animal and retrieved his arrow,
for he couldn't afford to lose it. He dragged it out, wiped it on the
creature's hide and set it to the string again, watching for another attack
with every sense primed.
'Ashrach! Yrgraukhim fethrouthl'
The shout came from a group of Bhahdradomen; three figures wrapped in greyish
rags who seemed to rise out of nowhere behind the herd. They must have been
sitting on the ground and have seen everything.
They came towards him, looking alarmed and angry, shouting at him in a tongue
he didn't understand.
Their meaning seemed clear enough, though; he'd killed one of their animals,
and they were furious.
Rufryd stood still as they came towards him, trying to judge the situation.
Would they understand, if he tried to tell them he'd done it in self-defence?
They seemed to be unarmed. He held his bow low, called out, 'I've come from
Thanmandrathor. Do any of you speak Paranian?'
'Asharrch, naraghahim nyr!'
No, they didn't. They came on, their ashen skull-faces terrible, and he saw
them pulling thin black objects from their belts. Spears, sticks?
Rufryd wasn't going to wait and find out. He drew his bow and let fly at the
leader.
His arrow sank into the cattle-herder's shoulder, causing him to stagger. But
it didn't stop him. As
Rufryd made to draw a second arrow, another of the herders raised the thin
black weapon and now
Rufryd saw that it was a whip.
Before Rufryd could shoot again, the Bhahdradomen lashed out. The whip's long
tongue came snaking towards him, not striking him but hooking itself round
him. Rufryd was taken completely by surprise. It seemed prehensile, tightening
like a lasso around his waist, a greenish luminescence flashing through it. He
felt a jolt of pain like an electric shock. All the strength went out of his
body and he fell.
Looking up through a cloud of black stars, he saw the one he'd shot pulling
the arrow out of his shoulder. Rufryd heard the crunch of cartilage as it came
free. Then he passed out.
*
*
*
When he woke, he found himself in some kind of hut; a low dome of wattle and
daub, with a supporting post in the centre. His head ached. A dozen odours
wove through the air, earth and meat and mould and his own sweat and others he
couldn't identify; unpleasant, but not unbearable. He tried to sit up and
through the gloom he found a crowd of Bhahdradomen staring down at him. Merely
staring, with bland green-brown eyes set in pale, greyish faces.
'I didn't mean you any harm. he said. 'The bull attacked me.'
They only went on staring, clearly not understanding a word. When he pushed
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himself into a sitting position and slumped over his knees, they murmured and
drew back. And he realised.
These people had never seen a human being before.
Rufryd started to laugh in sheer disbelief at his situation. He rubbed his
face, then opened his flask and took a long drink of water - stopping suddenly
to wonder if there was any clean water on Vexor.
His body was sore where the whip-like weapon had caught him, and there was a
charred line on his jacket to mark its embrace. He felt in his pocket where
the blue-dove nestled, found her warm and alive.
Thank Breyid. They'd taken his bow away, but not his Aelyr sword;
didn't they realise what it was? They were inscrutable, unfathomable.
Tm Rufryd. he said, but none of them responded. 'From Aventuria. Parione? I
was sent by Queen
Helananthe. Gods, you've probably never heard of her. What kings would you
know? Garnelys?
Aralyth? Maharoth?'
At the last name they drew back, and a faint noise came from them; whispering
or the hissing of breath; he couldn't tell. He shook his head in frustration.
'No, I'm not threatening you. Oh, fuck, surely there's someone here who can
speak Paranian? I've come from Helananthe to see Aazhoth. Your leader,
Aazhoth?'
He wasn't sure he'd pronounced it correctly, but the Bhahdradomen clearly
recognised the name.
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