Prologue
[The village was quite at this time of night, long after the farmers had gone to bed and the merchants had talked and haggled into the evening hours. A few dim lights glowed in the tunnels that connected the various caverns of the village, and the larger caverns that made up the central locations of the village still had a few lights on for those stragglers still trying to complete a late night task. This late however few were ever out, and when a dark shadow crept across the tightly spaced streets of the village there was no one to notice. The closely placed buildings of the village loomed on either side of the narrow streets here, all made out of the same stone that formed the cavern. No wood was used in these parts for building, the packed in nature of the area making fires a very real threat. Only in the more prosperous areas of the village did you begin to see other materials used in building, and even then they were rare. Here however it was all stone, and stone made an easy handhold for the thing shadow moving from building to building, creeping along on quite, muffled feet.
The shadowy figure moving along rooftops and easing between the close walls of buildings was swaddled in tight, grey clothing that hid its body and face. Only a pair of dark, all black eyes gave possibility to the identity of the individual, and even then the shadow moved far to fast for anyone to be able to notice that particular feature. The individual moved quickly and quietly, heading towards the center of the village and the massive stone building held there.
Unlike the other villages in the vast network that made up their collected people, all built on the same lines and with the same needs in mind, this village, THE village, was built both in a similar fashion and with a different purpose entirely. All the villages were built in concentric circles, streets and buildings aimed at the center of the village where trade, discussion and festival events were held. The center of village life was the center of the village itself. Here was no different, at least in that sense, but it held a grander purpose in this village and was considered sacred by those who lived there and even those who did not. The great stone temple that sat in the very center of the first and last village was home to the many relics, religious sculptures and great thinkers of their people. Others traveled great distances, even from small, unimportant settlements to pray and seek guidance there. It was this place that made the village so important, so singularly special. It was also this place towards which the shadowy figure moved.
Getting past the guards was easy, simply because as a fact of life no one would dare go near the temple without a reason for being here, and the way the figure moved towards and into the temple was more than enough to gain access, even if those dark, unblinking eyes had not been there as all the explanation the individual needed. The guards would never think to question the eyes of one of the Hunters.
It was several hours later, as the guards changed their shifts that one of them went inside for a cursory inspection of the inner temple. His screams were heard throughout the village as the tunnels picked up and carried the sound far into the night. It was not long before the other guards came to see what had happened, and it wasn’t much long afterwards before they all chose to end their own lives rather than continue to live with the blasphemy they had allowed.
In the darkness of the catacombs far away from the village, the shadowy figure shook its head and continued moving, listening to the echoes of the screams as it walked further into darkness, hoping to find its way towards the light.
The next day the village was in an uproar. Hundreds of generations of tradition and faith were thrown into turmoil the minute that the blasphemy was discovered. The priests were consulted and they went into deep prayer and meditation, desperate to appease the god of the night and keep their people safe. As far away as the farthest village of their people, word spread and chaos reigned. In the midst of all this, a great meeting of all the chiefs of the different castes was called to be held in the village. The merchant and trader castes were represented by the merchant Jerrom, the farmers and gardeners by a woman name Thamis, and the priests and headmen by the village elder. The hunters were represented by Sari, the former chief, and the current head of the caste, a man named Castin, who also happened to be the brother of the accused. To say the least it made things a bit awkward.
Chapter 1
The Runaway
Mira moved quickly. Most of the weapons she had stolen had long ago been dropped in favor of speed. She made a mad dash between tall forbidding platforms, neglecting immediate safety for those few crucial extra steps. A stumble or fall, even the slightest drop in pace, and it would be all over. She moved easily though. Even down here, and despite the onset of exhaustion, she managed to stay ahead. She could hear them behind her now, making a high almost playful call. The low level of water at her feet was starting to rise and that meant she would have to move even faster. She pistoned her arms and legs, desperation giving her the much needed energy to go on. In the increasing rate of her movement, darkness enveloped her as her light fell into the water
with a splash.
She kept moving though, the sudden darkness spurring her on. It didn’t matter much anyway. She knew the layout of her surroundings better than that of her own house. She had made this journey many times. The route was burned into her brain. Everyday she made the run, getting closer and closer before retreating to the safety of the high platforms. Her plan was well under way and there could be no stopping now. She had risked too much to slow down. As the water rose and the winds began Mira went on in darkness.
[In the tunnels and caves that made up the village sound traveled easily and it was not hard for those who wanted to to hear what was going on in the closed meeting. Farmers tending hydroponic gardens stopped and tilted their heads, listening carefully, while the traveling merchants stopped in mid-bargain to turn their heads towards the closed off meeting area of the village. Everyone knew the voice that was yelling, and they were all waiting until it ended so that they could form an opinion. When the time came, most would be unable to do so, simply because they could not understand what had really happened. ]
“The whole thing is a fool’s hope really.” The thin angular man spoke sneeringly; his disdain over the whole affair obviously showing. “She has been gone for almost two weeks now and people are beginning to get nervous. It is time you all admitted Mira isn’t coming back and accept the danger you are putting our people in. Leaving the gate open is just inviting trouble and we have already violated too many taboos as it is!” All around the table heads nodded and there were murmurs of agreement from many of the other council members. It was after all the popular movement and few wished to stand against the tide of public opinion. More importantly however, was the validity in those words. Mira, a young hunter in training, had disappeared alone into the upper catacombs almost two weeks before and there was little honest hope that she would return. In the meantime the discussion had gone back and forth but little had been accomplished.
Castin shook his head slowly and looked around him gazing at the multitude of heads nodding along with the speaker. The argument had split the council in two but it had never been an even separation. One side, a smaller but still powerful faction, insisted that Mira would find her way back shortly and it would be akin to murder to close her out. The other, clearly a majority, sure that if the hunter to be had not returned by now she must have been killed. They warned of the dangers of leaving the gate open and demanded it be shut at once. A simple division really but like most arguments it had spilled over its borders and into other issues. Suddenly the privileges and powers of the whole hunter caste were being called into question. Some even felt the hunters merely served their purpose and should be subservient when the hunting season wasn’t upon them.
Only the strong commanding voice of the elder and Castin’s own silent but powerful presence kept tongues from running too wild and the topic from straying too far. Castin shook his head again and sighed. Leaning back in his seat he looked about the meeting room. Rarely were the powerful and influential of the village collected like this but the debate had raged back and forth until it seemed that everyone’s interest was involved, even those who were farthest away from the main issue. He could only put a few names to faces though he knew the various factions well enough after two weeks.
There were the pathfinders and traders, who moved out to the other villages to barter and gather news and the farmers, whose small bays of hanging vines, kept the population in fruit and vegetables between hunting times. Even the matrons were here. They were concerned about the effect, in their opinions, Mira had on the young ones who often tried to mimic her antics. For his part Castin of course represented the hunters and he could feel the eyes of many watching his face for a sign of his reaction. They would get none.
Castin had only been the chief hunter for about two years but he had always maintained a strong impassive face. His dark glittering eyes, a trait that marked him as a hunter, if nothing else did, were alert and watchful. A sharp hawkish nose sat underneath them and when he was deep in thought it would twitch slightly as if testing the air for danger. He had a wide thin lipped mouth which in private would often break into a smile, though no such expression was evident now. Like most in his profession, he wore his white hair short and swept back into a small knot, the better to keep it out of his eyes.
His over all stature was lean and muscular. Broad shoulders comfortable in the high back chair he had been given, hands and arms resting in his lap. Sitting down the chief hunter was roughly the same height as the others present. But standing, his long powerful legs put him at least a head above most. Now they were crossed in front of him, giving him the appearance of a man in repose, a stark contrast to the raised voices and hostile postures of the other representatives. In fact it looked as if he wasn’t paying attention at all. He had remained quiet through most of the deliberations, speaking only when asked a direct question. Many felt that it was merely in keeping with his inscrutable manner and that he was only waiting to hear the final decision that he would follow in spite of his personal stake in the matter. In truth, Castin had long ago come to his own decision and to him the entire deliberation was merely formality. He was simply being courteous.
The man speaking, a thin fellow with sunken eyes and a tight lipped slash of a mouth was impolite. Castin searched his memory for their introduction. He had thought little of the merchant, a hard ambitious trader named Jerrom, when they had first met. The man had offered condolences and sympathies at the loss of his sister, Mira’s death a foregone conclusion in his mind. His retinue of sycophantic followers had done much the same. In almost the same breath, Jerrom had gone on to remind the hunter of his duties, of the laws and traditions, which as a member of the council and a person of responsibility, he was responsible to uphold. His last words included stories of villagers who looked to such men as themselves for leadership, the words thick with implication of what the other man thought of Mira’s example.
The whole thing had left Castin feeling queasy and ill at ease. He had immediately mistrusted the oily merchant who spoke with such assurance of his sister’s demise. Those who spoke with too much certainty had always made Castin wary and this man, Jerrom, lived in absolutes. Even now as he spoke, that same disquiet came over him. “It is obvious the man is after something” Castin thought “but what?” He has the backing of the council or he could not speak with such certainty. He certainly acts the part of a wise man though he knows next to nothing of the hunters. Castin grimaced behind a hand and forced his faced back to a passive façade. The whole thing he knew was well orchestrated, the man’s movements in time with the shouts of agreement which rose with the bobbing heads behind him made him think of a superbly choreographed ballet.
It was with a start that Castin snapped out of his reverie realizing with surprise that Jerrom had rounded and was speaking directly to him. “Even you have to admit the danger of keeping the gate open this long Castin.” A bony finger pointed accusingly at the hunter. It will only be a matter of time before the Medusea are attracted to the light and venture up to the village. Then what will you do? We are not all hunters and if those beasts swarm even your vaunted training will not be able to stem the tide of destruction!”
Jerrom held his arms out as if imploring the very Gods to understand his plea. He waited until the shouts of approval died down before continuing, a cold tight smile on his face. “Even if she was trained by our chief hunter the “Great” Castin, it is a joke to even think anyone could survive in the catacombs alone for two weeks. Why would she stay down there if she were still alive? No matter what weapons and provisions she managed to steal when she left by now she must be nothing more than leavings for the smaller horrors!” Jerrom sat back basking in the approval of his compatriots and cast bleak unfriendly eyes at Castin who merely watched and said nothing.
Somehow this had become personal to the merchant; Castin was certain of that. He just didn’t know why. He could recall a time when the hunters had been admired as men and women without peer. Something had changed but he was unable to place it. Castin turned his thoughts back to the discussion as a small serene eyed woman from the other side of the table rose to speak. Her voice was iron belying her delicate features and she threw herself into her rhetoric.
“You’re right Jerrom but only when you say none of you are hunters! You least of all though you speak with such authority.” Her tone was hot and angry and the passion with which she spoke took Jerrom aback for a moment. Castin saw the woman turn with imploring hands to the audience and continue. “Hunting parties have been known to go into the catacombs for two sometimes three weeks at a time and if you had ever tried our ways you would know we often split at times to cover more ground.” She shook her head and looked steadily at Jerrom who blanched slightly at her suggestion. “The hunters have always been able to survive as others have not. What ever her reasons for leaving, Mira is a trained hunter in all but name. If anyone could survive for two weeks or even more it would be her!” The speaker sat back slowly and watched her opponent with a steely gaze.
Castin had been surprised initially when Sari, the former chief hunter, had taken the role of main proponent for keeping the gate open. She had been a hunter for most of her life and was aware of the dangers of her proposed plan of action. The Medusea could very well swarm and while he knew they could drive them back the damage might certainly be irreparable. It was a long time before the next hunting season, some three months away, and the gate had never been left open before. Who knew what could happen.
Spurred on by the likes of Jerrom and others, he had already heard gossip and tales by the children of stories of people being snatched out of their beds by the eel like creatures of blights and plagues brought up by the beasts or cast down by God for violating the injunctions of schedules of the hunting seasons. It was all preposterous of course, but Castin could understand the fear in a way. Of course neither he nor any of the other hunters were truly concerned. The Medusea couldn’t survive long out of water and while the possibility of flooding was real it was unlikely that the Medusea could find their way to the village otherwise. Perhaps that was why Sari had taken the position that she had. She had been perhaps the greatest hunter of the last generation and Castin was unsure if his own generation, including himself, would ever match her.
Castin watched his predecessor out of the corner of his eye and old emotions welled within him. He had admired the older woman for as long as he had known her and looked to her for leadership and guidance. He had learned his trade to perfection under her tutelage. When she announced she was stepping down two years ago he had felt tears sting his eyes and had been proud and surprised when she had named him her successor. Now she was at his side again and although he disliked thinking about it he couldn’t help but wonder if her current stance wasn’t in some way motivated by her feelings for him. She would deny the very idea if he ever asked of course but he would have told her how unnecessary it all was. Or perhaps not.
While he was certain she would agree with his plans had he voiced them to her there hadn’t yet been time and he thought she might try to dissuade him so he kept silent for the moment. In the meantime he watched the two go back and forth with a vaguely disinterested look. While he certainly rooted for Sari and silently cheered when she scored a point against the weaselly Jerrom he believed the whole thing was moot and his mind wandered. The verbal sparing, he thought, was certainly impressive in its own way but what was said was of little interest. Instead he passed the time focusing on the new speakers.
Jerrom and Sari were both of the same generation; immediately prior to Castin’s own. Both came from prominent lines though and found themselves seated here in very different ways. Though she had been considerably younger than the other hunters of her time, Sari had found herself rising quickly among them. This was easy to understand in an organization which, by its very nature, elevated those with the most skill. She had simply been the most practical choice when her predecessor had picked her, an accomplished and skillful hunter from the very beginning. From the time she was Castin’s age she was without peers. As it turned out she was also a strong leader and as those in the council now witnessed a powerful orator.
It was in fact, those latter qualities that led the old leader Gozi, then the chief hunter, to name her his successor. She had been the first female chief hunter in recorded history and she arrived on the scene at the best possible time. Despite the protest and shocked denouncements she had proven herself capable of the job at a time when the role of the hunter was being taken into question. It was Sari who had argued to maintain the seasonal hunts despite the availability of other food sources. The hanging gardens and growing bays were a huge success and many people thought that the hunters were no longer vital for the survival of the populace. There was even discussion that the great hunts would be reduced to a semi- religious celebration. The number of hunters could be cut back thus reducing the power of that organization.
Sari, however, had stood firm and in the end had been vindicated. It had been her iron will and determination that had held the hunters together through the worst of it. And when the floods had come and the gardens and bays were ruined it was Sari who led the greatest hunt of all time. They had kept the village alive when all other supplies had been destroyed. She had gone in with her hunters when the water levels were at their highest and the Medusea had the greatest advantage. And most telling, after all, is that it had been Sari who had returned from the hunt, her people bringing in the most abundant return ever. The village erupted in cheer when it was reported that despite the danger not one of her troop had been lost. It had been that moment that cemented her position as the leader of the hunters. The protests quieted and the denouncements stopped and she had become a power in her own right. From then until she retired the hunters prospered under her guidance. She had been a powerful voice on the council then and had maintained a seat there even after relinquishing control of the hunters to Castin. Even today she was well respected for her physical prowess and shrewd mind. Although she was aging she was still in prime physical shape, the blessing of years spent as a hunter.
She was short even for a woman but her body moved with obvious grace and power. She walked with the ease and speed of a trained athlete. Her arms moving quickly and her muscles taut under the unrestrictive uniform of the hunter that she wore although now retired. Her hair was kept short, swept back in a short curl and held by a band at the base of her neck; as a concession (perhaps the only one she would admit to) to her age and retired status. Her white hair was worn long on one side and tied in a braid that partially obscured the right side of her face. Her strong steady eyes still retained their light absorbing darkness even behind the reading glasses she had ruefully donned part way through the day’s meeting. The rest of her face was unadorned. Her small mouth, beneath a small high nose, pressed into a line when she was concentrating.
Over all Sari was still strong and slender and in peak physical condition. Though she moved and stood in a relaxed asexual manner, the curve or her hip and the swell of her breast beneath the hunter’s tunic left no doubt of her gender. Castin hid a grin behind a feigned yawn remembering his mentor’s surprised expression when suitors began to come and court her as well as his own surprise when he had seen her out of uniform for the first time. She had been beautiful then, as she always had been, but the light dress she had worn had forced Castin to truly see her for the first time. She had laughed at his expression then and danced for him showing off her lithe form.
They had spent that night and others together but unlike many Castin had not thought of more. He knew as she did that they were both too far gone into the life of a hunter. It was a way of thinking and of living that always stayed with you. And though hunters often came together to breed or for simple pleasure, they rarely married. He knew that she, at times, still longed to join the hunt. And though he had enough propriety to invite her he thought of it often and knew that he would be unable to deny her if she asked. Of course she never had so it had been years since they had hunted together. But now, at this time, she was bringing her grace and power to a cause he was not sure she really believed in. He felt guilty that she had become involved, championing an unpopular opinion, one that was already casting her in a bad light among the upper echelon of society. True, she would care little about that and she would have told him she was there of her own volition. None the less Castin remained concerned.
The reality of it was that the whole situation could not have come at a worse time. A new trade route with another village had once again opened up the idea of limiting the hunters. Mira’s stealing from the armory, her unauthorized entry into the catacombs and the gate being left open had each been a devastating blow. All of it, it was being argued, was proof that the hunters were far too powerful and needed to be limited in more ways. The strongest factions demanded oversight, a proven necessity more than ever they said. At the heart of that movement was Jerrom sitting opposite Sari with a sour look on his face. He had been, from the beginning, the chief proponent of that group, a self proclaimed moderate who in practice was an extremist.
Jerrom, like a number of others in the council, had come into power by way of a hereditary seat amongst the merchants. His family’s trading had left him wealthy and in control of a large portion of the village and he tended to act the part of feudal lord. It was true his gardens and bays were prosperous and brought trade to the village but he was a cruel and greedy man who thought little of driving other gardeners out of business by undercutting them severely. Among the lower classes he was disliked immensely though the young men and woman of wealth flocked to his side.
He often spoke of the achievements of his ancestors and of the great men and women who had occupied the seat before him. Those who cared listened intently looking to learn from such a font of wisdom. Jerrom reveled in the attention. He seemed to envy the hunters popularity, Sari’s in particular, and guarded his own “pupils.” Among the hunters the general consensus was that in his youth Jerrom, like many, had tried to become a hunter but failed causing his dislike of all of them. While Castin thought that to be likely the only person who could speak with any authority on the subject was Sari herself and she would say nothing of the matter. Only once could Castin recall anyone asking Jerrom about it and it had gone poorly. The merchant had been furious and the questioner, one of his young fans, had been forever stricken from his company. In the end no one knew what fueled Jerrom’s hatred but it was assumed to be potent.
Castin, not being much of a student of the council’s history, Jerrom’s ancestry meant little. He was, he had once mused, of the mind that while the man’s ancestors may have truly had wondrous ideas sitting in that seat, all that came from that now was wind and fury. Sari had fallen into peals of laughter when he had made that comment one day. Now as Jerrom launched into another tirade he caught her eye and cupped his hand to his ear making a low whistle. The former hunter was forced into a coughing fit to fight the onset of laughter and she glared good naturedly at him.
For his part Jerrom missed the whole affair with his pontificating and simply shot poisonous looks at both of them before going on hardly pausing at all. Castin tuned it out as before and turned his attention to the village elder sitting high on the dais in front of them. The old man was watching Castin with a blank stare and he slowly nodded almost as if to himself. The hunter acknowledged in the same manner and smiled grimly. He had made his intentions clear to the old man when this had begun and though he would always be grateful to Sari for defending his sister he had known all along how this would end. Nothing that was said now was of any consequence because he had his own plan and had just received permission to go ahead. Now it was simply time to let everyone else know.
Chapter 2
The Quest
Mira slept, safe on one of the high platforms that shredded the long tunnel like broken teeth. Her evening meal lay unfinished nearby, steaming still but barely toasted. It was a testament to her exhaustion. Finding food was easy of course as her primary diet was usually chasing her. After the water receded and the wind died down there were always a few stragglers and she could pick them off easily from the high perches she found. Tonight she slept fitfully, fully clothed despite the soaked condition of her garments. It had been a difficult run this time, and it grew progressively more difficult as time went on. She had found it necessary to find refuge sooner than she would have liked. Her pursuers forced her up on the platform almost as soon as they appeared. Despite all that she slept with a smile, knowing full well that things were going perfectly.
Castin packed in silence trying to ignore the heavy stare boring into the back of his head. He sighed softly and kept at his work while Sari stood behind him, her arms crossed over her breasts and a scowl on her face. At first she had followed after him to his rooms, yelling the whole time. After an hour it had lessened to angry muttering and now oppressive silence. As he went from room to room she stared at him and he kept his eyes averted the whole time. The end of the meeting had gone as planned, but how, he wondered, had it come to this? The careful speech he had prepared and the words of the elder were still ringing in his ears and he thought them over as he packed. The elder had coughed quietly and those around him had stopped speaking immediately. Jerrom had sat back and watched the elder with a grim look. Sari, however, had watched Castin more concerned with what the young hunter had planned then what the elder might say.
Amongst the hunters the nature of the relationship between Castin and his sister were common knowledge. They had grown up amongst the hunters and their sibling rivalry was well known to Sari. From the beginning Mira had sought new experiences and found new ways of doing things. When the merchants came back from other villages Mira was the first to greet them; rooting through their wares and asking thousands of questions if she had not sneaked behind them in the first place. She would often disappear for days at a time and sometimes weeks when it wasn’t hunting season. When Castin invariably brought her back, because only he could follow the strange markings she left on her trail, she would be full of stories, telling wide eyed children about the strange plants and animals she had seen or pictures carved on walls. Castin would stand quietly by shaking his head or nodding softly. But when all others were asleep he would steal out of the house following Mira’s path – seeing what she had seen and learning what she had learned. Their father had called her – little trail blazer – for more than just her wanderings. Where ever she went, Castin would eventually follow. “The first to try anything” said their father often “no matter how foolish but Castin would always be the one to perfect it to an art form.” It had become something of a game between them. She was setting the challenge and he rising to it. Now it was almost a matter of arrogant pride that Castin was compelled to do everything his sister had and Sari knew that they both understood that. As soon as Mira had gone missing Sari had guessed what would happen. She had watched Castin throughout the meeting and had seen the hidden exchange between the elder and her friend. Now knowing what would come, Sari’s heart sank as the elder began to speak.
“We have heard from all sides on this matter and a verdict has been reached.” Everyone in the room had leaned forward except for Castin who had already made up his own mind and Sari could see what would happen. “It has been decided that the entrance to the catacombs will be shut immediately.” A few moans and curses were drowned out by a quick and hardy cheer from the masses but the noise died soon after. They had all turned to look for Castin’s reaction and their celebration had died in their throats when they saw that he had not stirred. The old man for his part had begun to speak again though all eyes remained on Castin.
“In one day the doors will be shut and will remain so until the next hunting season begins.” The rest of the room had become totally silent waiting to find out what would happen. “On that day Castin will have his time to find his sister and bring her back.” All heads swung in the old man’s direction and more than one jaw dropped. The room exploded. Jerrom was the loudest voice of all. “With all due respect Elder! This is exactly the type of abuse I have been talking about. Even to hold the doors open for a day is dangerous enough. But to allow the hunter’s free reign to go down there to further defile our traditions is outrageous. Do you really think the hunters (he waved at Castin) would bring her back for punishment? He will protect her and they will defend her. If the hunters go in alone she will never be brought to justice. They will hide the relic she stole and say she never took it!” The man’s eyes were bulging from their sockets and his face was turning a deep purple now. The whole room was silent as he gestured and ranted at the elder. Something no one had ever done. It was obvious Jerrom himself didn’t realize what he was doing until a sharp cough from the other end of the table brought him to his senses. It was Castin standing from his chair, his palms flat against the table. Jerrom sank back into his seat as the hunter’s dark eyes leveled against him. When he spoke his voice was low and calm.“I have heard your argument and I would ask you this Jerrom. Would you go in my place to retrieve her or perhaps you would like to earn your place as a hunter and join me? I promise this would be the only test you need take to pass into our ranks.” The merchant’s mouth snapped shut and he sat back, deflated for the moment. However, he watched Castin with an evil glint in his eyes as the hunter continued.
“I will be going alone. This is a personal matter between my sister and me. If I find her she will be brought back to stand trial for what she has done. If I do not come back at the days end the doors will still be closed.” The others nodded quickly save for Sari and Jerrom who both stared at him. “I will take nothing that belongs to the village and if I do not return I have already given the name of my successor to the elder.” He sat back down and watched the others and was surprised when a calmer and more in control Jerrom stood. This time he spoke clearly, a placating tone to his voice. “Of course now that it has been more clearly explained it seems like this is a marvelous idea. But surely it is unsafe to travel alone into the catacombs.”
He turned to the elder and flashed him the dark smile, suddenly all kindness and clarity. “Surely even our chief hunter knows that and we certainly don’t want to lose such a precious resource.” He turned back to the table and offered a malicious grin to Castin. “I can not, of course, go with you as my time is filled with other things but I would not want you to travel alone. Elder allow three of my strong young men to go with our chief hunter. They may not be hunters but they are not weaklings.” He sat back and smiled while those around him complimented his wisdom and generosity.
Castin simply sat back and frowned behind his hands watching Jerrom as the traitor looked blankly back at him. He began to stand when another voice silenced the crowd and made Castin groan. This time it was Sari.
“I am forced to agree with Jerrom in this. It would not be wise for our chief hunter to simply go off and endanger himself. A small group should go so they can watch out for one another.” She nodded and everyone stared at her in confusion especially Castin, whose mouth worked like a fish’s making no sound. Jerrom even looked stunned for a moment before taking swift advantage of the moment.
“Thank you Sari. I did not think I would find you as an ally in this.” He turned to the elder again no longer bothering with Castin, “Surely you must see that sending a small group in makes much more sense. They could cover more ground and report back any difficulties.” “And that” said Sari “is why I am going as well” The room exploded. [After that Castin had left in a hurry. Not wanting to deal with inane questions and definitely wanting to avoid speaking with Sari, he had bade a grateful but hasty farewell to the elder and headed away from the meeting room. He had been surprised to find the entrance partially blocked by all manner of people, attracted by the yelling and the tense nature of the proceedings. Casting managed to slip through without to much difficulty, ignoring questions by commoners and simply nodding to those hunters who had shown up to offer support or voice their own, far more knowledgable concerns. As he walked away Casting looked behind him but did not see anyone leaving for the moment, and his pace quickened as he tried to put distance between the others in that room and himself. When he could hear the collective voice of the crowd begin to dim he slowed his movement and began to look around where his random walking had taken him. In his effort to get away he had ended up at the scene of the crime, the great underground temple that made up the center of town, the primary place of worship and discussion for his people. Looking at it from the outside Casting realized how little time he had spent there in his life. He did not go regularly, and even during major debates he was generally found elsewhere. To him it was a strange and forboding structure, though looking back he realized how important it had been to him. Perhaps not what it stood for but what it was. Here he had been confirmed as his father’s son, taken his oaths as a hunter and accepted the mantel of Chief Hunter from the elders of the village. Every major event of his life had occurred here, and as he walked towards it he realized that once again it was going to play an integral role in his existence, though once more it was not of his own choosing. Though the doors were open as always they were now guarded by two of his own men, who stepped aside wordlessly as he moved forwards. Nodding his thanks Castin moved past the knave of the temple into its great interior dome, pausing at the doorway to stare all around him. Paintings of the gods mingled with sculptures and images of the leaders of the past, and his eye caught on one in particular, the statue of his father. At his father’s stone feet lay the broken remains of Mira’s crime, the smashed box that each statue kept safe, empty now of its sacred and ancient treasures. Casting still did not know what had been inside, and he did not think that anyone else knew either. It had been generations since any of the boxes had been opened, and it had been almost as long since even those containers had been included in any form of worship or service. Castin did not stop to think why though he did sift through the wreckage, gingerly moving bits and pieces aside to study his sister’s handywork. He was not sure if she had smashed the box on purpose, or if it had simply been the only way to get to its contacts. He could not imagine she had known what was inside, but it seemed unlikely as well that she had picked this box by accident. Mira never did something like that.
Straightening up and dusting his hands off, Casting left the temple, mind in such a whirl that he barely registered the concerned questions of the two guardsman. He continued in a daze until he came to the residential quarters, stopping only when he finally realized that he was home. For a moment he stood stunned, not sure how he had arrived here, the twisting tunnels and caverns of the village a blur. He felt a great sense of trepidation and strangeness as he moved towards his own dwelling, feeling somehow apart from this place that he had lived in for so long. Before taking even two steps into his home he spotted Sari, leaning idly against a wall and playing with one of Mira’s strange contraptions. When she looked up at him there was fire in her eyes and he knew he was in trouble. Then she started the yelling.]
Now Castin was in his rooms packing for the trip. His gear was all over the place with the kind of disorder that only the owner would understand. Behind him Sari maintained her angry silence broken only by the cluck of disapproval over the state of his property. Finally she broke the silence, her voice soft and calm. “Its not that I dislike your plan I just don’t know why a small change is such a problem. You must have known Jerrom’s proposition was a trick when you agreed to it. What difference does it make if I go along?” He turned to face her arms akimbo and said angrily “Because I did know it was a trap and I would have dealt with it on my own. Of course it was a trick and those three who Jerrom picks will be ordered to slow me up as much as possible. That’s why I was going to leave tonight and now that you are coming along there will be all sorts of fanfare.” He grumbled and stuffed his gear haphazardly into his bag. “Now we will have to leave with them and I will have to knock them out just to make up lost time. Besides we only have one day and I will need to make the…” A hand on his arm stopped him before he could finish. Castin, believe me we can make up the time. The two of us can cover more ground anyway and we didn’t promise to keep pace with Jerrom’s men anyway. We can canvas the whole area before they are even beyond the doors. Her voice was soft and soothing as she spoke and her black eyes twinkled. Castin could only nod.
She patted his face and smiled at him. “Besides it is not like you could take care of yourself that far down anyway. That got a corroborating nod. “Besides you wouldn’t be going down there if it wasn’t for your sister?” He shook his head slowly. “Mira always was the adventurous one. Now come oh great hunter, she continued, your pack is a mess and we can leave as soon as the new day begins.”
Chapter 3
The Catacombs
The next day, which began not long after Castin had finally finished packing, was met with the solemn air of ceremony and great importance. Sari had finally been pushed out the door amid foul language and squawks and Castin had slept fitfully. He awoke in sweat and darkness and by the time people began to gather near the entrance to the catacombs Castin had been sitting there for quite some time.
As expected, he no longer wore the simple robes and tunics of the village as they were an assured death down below. Sandals had been eschewed for heavy water proofed boots and his legs were covered in a similar material, water proofed and unrestrictive, a sort of long sleeved vest was across his chest full of pockets which held various tools. If one looked closely the armor sown into the arms and legs of the outfit, giving it a true military air, could be seen.
Nearby lay a large pack propped up against the rock on which Castin sat. Those few people who had passed by, early rising farmers and others, gave it a long look, but never commented. For his part Castin ignored them and waited quietly to be on his way. His gun rested on his lap and he fingered the hilt of the wide knife on his belt. It was about two feet long and ended in a squared head, perfect for its intended purpose. It was the outfit of the hunter, someone who knew the dark recesses of the catacombs, someone who knew how to keep from being bogged down by water, and someone who knew how to make a proper kill.
Before long, six figures approached Castin and he stood. Two were dressed in the robes of council, three wore clothes not entirely unlike his, and the last wore a perfectly new uniform. Castin scowled. Jerrom had come, of course, and brought his men with him. Only one of these Castin recognized and he accounted for half his frustration. He had seen him at council meetings standing quietly behind his father’s seat. His name was Isna and he was Jerrom’s son in all ways. He was certainly not a guard but if rumor had it correctly, he had a penchant for shooting at things. Isna, like his father, was thin and fish eyed and though they did not appear to share the same love for money they were cut from the same cloth in their desire for power.
As far as Castin could recall Isla Isna had never asked to join the ranks of the hunters although he too seemed to hate them for as long as any one could recall. Perhaps, that was why Castin could not remember a time when they had ever really spoken but the younger man stared sullenly about him most of the time. Isna’s uniform was brand new, probably bought off the rack that morning. Even if he had no desire to actually be a hunter, it was obvious he certainly wanted to look the part. On further though “off the rack” seemed unlikely. Jerrom’s money could buy anything his son wanted, and Castin was sure the uniform had been tailored exactly to Isna’s specifications. Probably as soon as Jerrom had realized that Castin was serious. He looked hard at Isna and noticed that even his weapons were new, models that made Castin’s own look outdated. Isna watched him looking him over and gave a smug look in reply, patting his rifle with one hand. Castin offered himself a brief smile and shrugged. All the advanced technology their people had to offer wouldn’t keep someone from getting killed if they were to stupid to realize it.
The other two men Castin did not know. They were dressed like Isna, close to hunters or as close as money could buy on such short notice. Castin took a brief moment to wonder if they had bothered to waterproof their gear because they surely were going to need it but he guessed it really didn’t much matter at this point. They fairly bristled with weapons, sophisticated sensors, and other gear. Lacking the experience and eyes of a true hunter, each wore a complicated set of goggles on his head so that he could see down below. He scanned them quickly, trying to assess their measure now rather than later.
Both were about the same height and perhaps a few years younger than Castin. They had the look of trained athletes and while both looked eager to be there it was not for the same reason as their compatriot who even now held his weapon as if it would fire at the slightest movement. Castin searched his memory and could vaguely recall them at the hunter’s compound waiting outside to talk to anyone coming in or out. They wanted badly to be hunters. Their outfits, at least, showed a certain respect for the catacombs he now saw. Most likely used gear bought or borrowed from true hunters. Their boots were water-beaten and stained with dried blood, always the mark of a hunter, and their weapons had the look of cherished possessions, probably never fired but kept clean and well maintained never the less. Castin felt bad that they had been dragged into this, probably thinking it would be a great chance to get some inside training on being a hunter before trying to take the exams. He allowed himself to feel sorry for them and then moved on.
The fourth person made him scowl again as Sari grinned smugly from her spot standing next to the elder. She had dressed exactly like Castin down to the large pack and knife. Her own uniform hadn’t been seen in some time though, and it brought a momentary wave of nostalgia, however unbidden, to Castin. He remembered following her through the catacombs on his first hunts, watching her move gracefully in that same suit. He was surprised to note that she had cut her braid and that her hair was now short like his. It made him a little sad. She moved closer to him and pressed a small package into his hand. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Keep it safe. You can give it to me when you get back. Keep an eye on them.” She tilted her head slightly to indicate the boys. “Do me a favor and try not to get the other two killed. I don’t think they have much to do with this.” He nodded once and slipped the package into his vest as Sari moved away and the elder began to speak.
“We have come here to the entrance of the catacombs to send these five on their way to locate our lost Mira. They will have one full day to search and one half day to return. Whether or not they come back at the end of that time, these doors will be closed and shall not be reopened for any reason until the next hunting season.” All five of them nodded while Jerrom smiled into his sleeve. The old man moved forward and laid a hand on the young men’s shoulders. “Neither of you are hunters though I know you wish to be. You may think that being here today will improve your chances of being accepted.” He looked at Castin for a moment who shrugged. “And it may or may not”, the elder added. “I let you go only because it is our chief hunter who leads you and Sari has been kind enough to aid him. I would not put your lives into the hands of any others in this situation.” The two boys nodded. “You are to listen to their orders and never stray from them. This includes you as well Isna. You are no hunter either.” The man snapped his head up at the elder’s harsh tone and sneered but nodded anyway.
The elder moved closer to Castin and Sari and spoke in a low voice. “Please watch out for those three. They are in your care and with perhaps one exception; they do not fully understand what is going on here. They both nodded and the elder spoke again so they could all hear. “Isna, I am sure you already know as he has been to a number of council meetings. These others are Corby and Mellar.” Sari and Castin both nodded. The two beamed as the hunters acknowledged them, excited that they were chosen for such an adventure. They were obviously brothers and looked almost like twins. It was so difficult to tell them apart save for things like the slight scar across Corby’s upper lip or that Mellar was a bit taller. “They are not, of course hunters but I have been told they have trained to enter your ranks and are in fact on the rolls this year for acceptance. I trust you will take care of them both.” He paused for a second then continued “and naturally Isna will look to you for guidance as well.”
They both agreed solemnly, taking the task with great responsibility. Satisfied, the elder stepped away. In the meantime Jerrom had drawn his son and one of the boys away so the other came over to formally greet them. He was Mellar, the younger of the brothers, and if anything could be said of him it was that he was a bit too talkative. He asked a lot of questions and was ecstatic when Castin admitted that he recognized him. He motioned his brother over and the process was repeated. Isna, of course chose not to join in as he stood with his father, disgust barely masked on their faces. The brothers told the hunters that they had trained for years but had only recently tried out for what they referred to as “the great Honor”. Castin tried not to shakes his head at the words. These two would make fine hunters one day, or would have if they were not so insistent on going through with this pathetic charade.
Castin was taken aback by all of this, thinking that his profession, though an important one, was one borne out of necessity, not honor. Though Sari just smiled, remembering the days when the hunters were more revered. They took time to check the boys’ equipment and Castin was surprised to find that they had all the provisions they required already packed. Sari explained, “It’s like this everywhere now; pre-made hunters. They skip most of the training and go straight to teaching them how to kill.” She shook her head and stood, finishing her look-over of the boys’ gear. Isna turned down the help but it didn’t seem to matter, everything appeared to be in order and at this point they really couldn’t afford further delay.
In all this time a crowd had begun to gather around the group which was only natural. A hunt into the upper catacombs was a sacred event in and of itself. This felt more important and also more dangerous to the people of the village. Farmers and horticulturalists had stopped what they were doing to come look, and a large crowd of young children stood nearby, pointing and whispering to each other. Their own clothes, all the clothes of the villagers save themselves, were simple tunics and pants, designed not to snag in the caverns and keep them warm at night. It created a sharp contrast with the almost ornamental nature of the hunter’s own clothing, as well as that of the three boys. They stood out in the large throng that had gathered, and Castin sighed. He had not wanted this, not a show nor a goodbye. Normally, tradition dictated a speech by the lead hunter and they were given gifts by the villagers in return. Neither was forethcoming this time. By this point it appeared that the frown on Castin’s face had become a permanent fixture as he scanned the crowd around them. He couldn’t tell if they thought them to be heroes or fools. In spite of the curiosity no one dared go too close so it was easy for Castin to lean into Sari and speak so he could not be overheard. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t coming on this trip.”
His tone was wrought with frustration. “No, you just explained why you didn’t want me to come. Besides which,” nodding at his heavy pack, “I thought it was agreed that it would only be for one day” she clucked her tongue, “but you have enough packed for weeks.” When Castin didn’t comment, Sari sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m just as invested in this as you are and you know it. A lot is at stake here. It’s not just Mira who will be on trial but all the hunters. We are being judged and so far we don’t look good.” “I know” was the only reply Castin could come up with at the moment, thinking hard about the journey ahead.
Sari continued undeterred by Castin’s pithiness. “And then there are the three we have just been saddled with. Now not only do we have to find Mira and the object, but we have to come back with three untrained kids in relatively unharmed condition. That in it self will be a task and you know it.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice was barely a hiss at this point. Castin just looked at her as she said “So what is your plan? I hope you spent last night thinking of one.” His mouth just slightly curving at the corners he replied “Of course I did. We all go in then you and I tie up the other three. You stay behind and watch them and I’ll go find Mira. If I don’t come back in time then you drag them back to the village. It’s simple really and the only solution to this insane situation.” “When you don’t come back you mean” Sari’s voice came out as a rasp through clenched teeth as she tried to make their conversation seen congenial. “I saw your pack and I know you plan to take your sweet time with this!” She worked her jaw, apparently trying to say more but she was cut off by the heavy sound of a gong and the baritone voice of the elder as he began to speak.
“We witness now these five, who go down into the catacombs. They do not hunt for food but for one of our own who is lost. We allow them this despite the fact that it is considered taboo and is against all our customs. However, we are not slaves to our traditions but people with minds and hearts!” There was much cheering at this but Castin could see many faces among the crowd that were obviously displeased with the unfolding events, some perhaps even frightened. Castin grimaced. Many businesses and livelihoods were built on tradition including his. That it was his own sister forcing this event made it even more difficult. There were some catcalls and hoots of derision making the brothers nervous.
“Don’t worry about them you two. Its not you they are yelling at anyway.” It was the first time Isna had really spoken out loud. Castin shifted slightly to look at him. “Everyone knows all this is the fault of the hunters and we certainly aren’t hunters,” he grinned cruelly “yet.” “Ever to the fact” it was Sari stepping out from behind Castin” no one in their right mind would let you into our ranks.” Isna’s smile got wider and colder “Perhaps not now, but when we return we will have more then enough right to claim a place among you. It’s” he stretched the word out “tradition”.
Even Castin had to bite back a comment but he managed to calm himself while Isna and Sari traded verbal jabs. He stared past the crowds, past the others waiting with him. He stared into the dark open mouth of the tunnel in front of him and held his breath. The sight filled his eyes and focused his attention. Before every hunt he did this, to remind himself what he was going into, what he hoped to come out of. Except this time. This time he simply thought of why he was doing all this.
He thought back and gradually the sounds faded away. He remembered the first time he started into this tunnel, the first time he watched his father disappear into the darkness and come out a hero a week later. He remembered when he looked in the mirror and saw that his own eyes had gone to the marble black of all hunters. And he remembered the time that his father had stepped into the darkness and not returned. The hunt had gone poorly, and food had been scarce that month. Sari had stepped up soon afterwards. Castin thought about these things every time he went into the catacombs and this time it was no different.
Castin took a deep breath and sighed quietly. He stepped forward suddenly and Isna and Sari stopped their argument, the former hunter already knowing what was going to happen. The three boys watched for a second then followed quickly as the two hunters stepped into the catacombs with nary a nod to any of the crowd around them. Castin glanced behind him quickly and saw Sari there to his right. He acknowledged her briefly and shouldered his heavy backpack. His foot was on the lip of the door when he turned to face the boys. Corby and Mellar stood to attention, their eyes wide and expectant. Isna of course simply watched him, that smug look never leaving his face. Castin hoped what he had to say would put some sense into the boys.
“Keep your packs secured against you at all times. Always wear those goggles but keep the light low. Too much light is bad. You can talk but keep it hushed. Too much sound is bad. Avoid high waters and check your depth finder every few paces. High water is bad. Don’t fall over in high or low water. Falling over is very, very bad. Don’t fire your guns into the water unless we say so. Don’t bother looking up or left or right or behind you. If you can’t see our feet, fire into the air and call out. Don’t move. Getting lost is very bad.” He waved them on, Sari first, then Corby, Isna, Mellar with him taking the rear. They disappeared, one by one vanishing into the blackness. As he watched them he shook off the premonition that they may not be coming back.
They waited for him just beyond the gate where Sari had stopped them. Castin let his eyes adjust to the total darkness with which he was familiar and he began to move towards them. Three sets of glowing visors gave away their presence but he climbed swiftly up to a wall getting behind them. He could see Sari smile and knew that she had spotted him. It was an old trick and they played it on all hunters in training. He dropped down the wall and moved so he would be able to sneak up on them only to stop and grimace. The hard cylindrical barrel of a gun was pressed into his solar plexus and in the dark he could see Isna’s wicked grin. “You should really be more up to date on current technology Chief Castin. These goggles let me see perfectly fine in the dark and they come with motion sensors too.” His voice held a nasty tone. “It is technology that is replacing you, and many others.” He grinned again and lowered the gun slowly.
It was Sari who came to his defense settling against one piece of a lopsided metal paneling. She looked at the brothers as she spoke. “Do the two of you have the same model?” They shook their heads in unison. “We were told it was too expensive” Mellar said with envy in his voice. That brought a smile to Sari’s lips. “That’s good” she said “you might survive a bit longer then.”
All three boys raised their heads in confusion. This time Castin spoke, tempering his anger with reason. “Here in the catacombs the only motion you have to worry about is your own. Don’t bother looking around, just watch where you step. If you aren’t careful you can get pulled down and we will have to start running to survive.” They stared at him as if the reality of the venture was just hitting them and Isna looked as though he was about to speak. Castin continued “If you step wrong you’ll probably get bitten first. Then you’ll feel something wrap around your leg. A tube of solid muscle. You’ll fall and that will bring the rest of them. We will run and you will die.” They stared at him as he went on. “If your goggle’s lights are too bright you will draw any that are awake and those’ he pointed to Isna’s head’ will go right for the goggles and subsequently your face.” He grinned then pointed at the guns “If you start getting scared and shoot at the water it will start to heat up and that will stir them into frenzy. And if any of that starts to happen and you scream … we will have to shoot you because that will pull them from as far as you can be heard and sound down here travels. If you feel something, anything, stop and call out. Sari or I will kill it if necessary.” He patted his knife while Sari showed hers that was hung across her back.
Corby looked around and shuddered. “What are they anyway?” Castin stopped and seemed surprised but only for a moment. “That’s right; none of you have ever seen one whole. Well, first of all you’ll be lucky if you even see one at all. They tend to sit at the bottom under the water which is why we avoid walking in anything too deep. Even in shallow water they pack in pretty tightly, so it can look just like part of the floor. Try to stay out of the water when you can and avoid any ground in the shallows that seems too uneven. They don’t move unless there’s something else in the water with them so it should be ok as long as you aren’t splashing around. If you think something is after you, feel free to try and hightail it back onto a walkway but remember, we might not be able to get to you if you go the wrong way and all that motion will just call more down on you. Stick to the wall if this happens. They can reach a good two feet beyond their heads and if you aren’t ready for it they can grab you and haul you underwater. They’ve got fins and a tail so they can move pretty fast underwater. They’re slow on land but they are still agile so don’t get too close if one gets pulled up on the land. And don’t bother shooting the damn things. You don’t know where to aim and at best you’ll just stun it for a few seconds. Let Sari or I do the killing. It’s what we are trained for. One of them, he couldn’t tell which one spoke. “But what are they?” Castin grunted in frustration. “It is a Medusea. I thought you knew that. What did they teach you anyway?”
Chapter 4
The Underground Beasts
Mira just stared. She had already walked for a long while and was up to the great pit filled with water and horror and God only knows what else. In one hand she held the object she had taken, her thumb moving idly over the indentation that would activate it when pressed. Mentally she congratulated herself. This run would make two hundred times she had raced against the water and she was inwardly proud she had been able to make it this far. With a feeling of elation she pushed her thumb against the object and started to run.
The three young men stared at Castin as if he had already killed one of them. It just didn’t seem possible and Isna said as much, his voice thick with scorn. “I think they are just trying to scare us off. We’ve all seen hunters go down in small groups this size and they’ve always come back just fi...” He was interrupted by Castin who picked him up squawking and slammed him against a wall. Colby and Mellar obviously were confused and their loyalties were only assured when Sari brought out her own weapon and held it on Isna. The young man dangled and hurled epithets at the two of them until Castin brought him down to the ground so their faces were only inches apart.
“Those men and women were trained hunters, not children playing a game. To even think that your toys make any of you their equal is laughable!” He threw Isna roughly to the ground and save for Sari’s drawn gun it looked like he was about to go for his own. Castin waited until the latter stood and continued. “You’ve eaten the Medusea for years and watched us return from the hunts successfully. Well, we came back each time because while you ate what we caught we were trained how to catch it.” He looked Isna square in the eyes and said, “Not everyone comes back.” He grimaced and put out a hand to push against the metal walls. When he spoke again it was almost to himself. “They’re a lot more active during the hunting season. Makes them a whole lot more dangerous too. Luckily it’s not until a few months from now or I would never have allowed any of you to come down here.
He shook his head and adjusted his pack motioning for the others to form a line. “I’m first this time then Corby, Isna, Mellar and last Sari. Always watch my feet. Not the feet of the person in front of you…mine. The person in front of you might get lost or go into the water and then we would lose two instead of one. Understand?” They all nodded slowly, even Isna. Castin had to smile at that. Before long they had formed a line and started off, the light given out by the village having long since disappeared. They trudged on in silence, broken occasionally by one of the brothers asking questions of Sari, who replied good naturedly.
The catacombs themselves were hard to navigate for the untrained with dozens of misleading tunnels cut into the walls from years of water pressure. They were a mix of metal and rock, blending into each other fairly well. All of it had been put in hundreds of years ago but no one could quite remember why. The most accepted theory was that their ancestors had at one point tried to expand further down or perhaps to make hunting a bit easier. Nevertheless, if you knew where to look you could see small rooms cut into the rock or built out with plating. Hunters often used them as resting spots and as long as they weren’t near the water they were just about the safest places to be in the catacombs.
They stopped periodically at these small shelters, slowed down by the boys’ inexperience or because Sari had asked for the break. At first it saddened Castin because it seemed like his mentor and friend was finally feeling her years. But she shrugged him off each time he suggested that they could stay a bit longer. It wasn’t till the fourth or fifth time when she began to take point that he finally realized what she was doing. She set a hard pace, faster then Castin had and his plodding mind at last understood. She could keep up just fine; she was telling him to start pushing them all harder. And more importantly, they stopped all the time so maybe, just maybe the boys could find their way back alone. Or, Castin thought, they would know a safe place to hide until the next hunting season.” He chuckled to himself. A month or so waiting for hunters to come rescue them would certainly teach them all they could want to know about the life he led. At the very least it would give them time to realize how it all really worked. That is if they survived.
After that thought Castin found himself talking more and more often until he realized, in some part of his mind, that this was no different than the way he taught other young hunters who were joining their ranks. He knew that two of them had already requested to join the hunters. So during their now less frequent breaks, Castin would lecture while Sari looked on smiling.
“One of the most important points”, he found himself saying when they at last broke their search to eat, “is that the guns we carry are not killing tools.” When Isna looked oddly at his own weapon Castin grinned and continued. “Certainly they are lethal to you or me and have been used in disputes over hunting territory but they are of little use during the hunt itself.” They looked at him with rapt attention, all the talk of fighting and shooting was getting their testosterone going. “The problem is that the Medusea don’t have a real central nervous system. So burning a hole through one will just stun it for a bit. It will give you, maybe, just enough time to get your knife out and slice it in half.” For effect Castin demonstrated exaggeratedly jamming the flat knife edge into the ground like a shovel and moving it around a bit before taking it out. You have to cut them entirely in half. Totally sever the nervous system or they can still attack. He held up his knife again. This time so they could see the rectangular cleaver-like blade. “See? No point, just more edge.” They all nodded, dutifully. The brothers, in particular, were eager to absorb the information. Castin felt that all was not lost.
The search itself was slow and methodical, made far more difficult by their particular quarry. Anyone else who had gone into the catacombs probably would have started to backtrack by now or would have at least left markers to follow. In the end, they defiantly would have stopped at some point if they were lost. But not Mira. Mira wasn’t lost at all and both Sari and Castin were aware of this. She knew exactly where she was and just didn’t want to be found. Not just byy anybody anyway. This went back to their childhood and only Castin knew his sister well enough to understand her markings. They were a mix of symbols and shapes and odd little puzzles. Things that her imaginative mind were always coming up with. He had spent most of his life deciphering them and knew exactly where to go. And that, at the heart of it, was part of the problem.
They were not far into their journey when the complaints began. Isna, of course, had complained since the beginning, but now the brothers had joined in as well. It was hot and humid and slow going. All of which they said but they refused to go back. Corby and Mellar claimed it was for the experience. Isna said he just wanted to watch them fail. ‘Well’ Castin thought ‘He would get the chance.’ The fact was he was playing for time, purposefully slowing the hunt. They stopped frequently and the three boys didn’t seem to mind much, obviously not used to the rigors of the hunt. Sari was aware that he was leading them a bit slower and more carefully through areas that didn’t require such caution.
His plan was simple and straightforward, as most of them were. More importantly he felt comfortable sharing it with Sari. As time began to wind down they knew he would not give up so easily. He knew that the three inexperienced young men, despite any bravado, would have no desire to spend more time than was necessary in the catacombs. He also knew that Sari wouldn’t let that happen. It was a simple matter of leading them in circles while the allotted time wore down and eventually Sari would be forced to take them back home. At that point Castin could start tracking his sister in earnest.
However, the boys were not as easily fooled as he thought they would be. “I think we have seen all this before!” It was Isna, in the back. He came trudging up to Castin pushing dangerously past the others as they stood surrounded by water. “In fact I know it! I marked a spot here last time we passed.” He sneered pointing to a small cut in the metal. The other two boys crowed at their comrade and stared at the mark then slowly raised their faces towards Castin with confusion clouding their eyes. Sari simply stood there saying nothing. Castin sighed and leaned against a wall eyeing the water. “Very good. You marked the trail. Maybe there is a hunter somewhere in you after all.” Isna scowled “What garbage! I demand to know why you’ve been taking us in circles.” He emphasized every word with a wave of his gun. “I knew you were up to something and so did my father!” He began to yell, his voice getting higher and louder as he ranted. One arm flew out and you could barely hear the muffled surprise from behind the young man.
However, there was no mistaking the sound of the splash. They all stopped talking. Stopped breathing even and all turned to stare at Mellar who was now sitting in the shallow water eyes wide with fear, a trickle of blood falling from the gash in his head where he had been hit by the gun. No one made a sound as they turned their gaze towards Isna. The merchant’s son was sweating, his face now bloodless. He hiccupped slightly and looked at Castin who just shook his head disappointedly. Slowly, one at a time, the two boys lowered their visors and began to stare out over the water. Sari caught Castin’s eye above their humped shoulders but Castin just shook his head again. Sari frowned in response but nodded. Finally Isna looked up with a grunt and a smile.
“There is nothing there. These two are just trying to scare us. If there was something there it would have attacked by now.” To prove his point he dropped his gun and waded in after Mellar. “See?” Castin nodded “You’re right. It is not the hunting season, so they are pretty docile. In fact you would have to pretty much land on one to get them to move. But trust me you would know if you had. What really drives them nuts though, no matter when it is, is a whole lot of warm fresh blood in the water.”
“Wha…” Isna gasped in pain and dropped grasping at the small knife which had seemingly grown out of his knee. He stared at Castin, no hate or fear, just total disbelief. The others looked from one to another in shock. Sari shook her head. “You were never meant to survive this Isna. We know why your father sent you along, why you decided along. Castin and I guessed it from the beginning. Even if we survived… there is no way we could let you into the hunters. It would be disastrous.” Isna tried to respond but could only grunt against the pain in his knee. “You see Isna, we know what you are. You and your father both. You think money is a good enough replacement for training, and that tradition has to fall to modern times. I can see it now Isna.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be long after you came into the hunters that you would try to take it over in a coup. Maybe it would be bloodless, maybe not. But in the end you and your father would be running things, and it wouldn’t be long after until our organization had fallen to your ways. Years of training replaced by young boys with the latest technology, tramping about in the deep waters just like you, because they just don’t know. And not long after, people would realize the losses you were taking. The hunters would be finished. And we cannot allow that.”
Castin, for his part, just looked at Mellar. “I’d run if I were you. I’d run. RUN. He The boy ran as he flailed about trying to find purchase on the slippery floor. His brother, also running, strained to reach him and stay on dry land. The effort would be meaningless. As soon as the blood had hit the water you could hear it. A high pitched noise, echoing slightly off of the walls, picked up again and again. That, perhaps, was the worst part of the experience because you could never tell how many were coming.
They yipped and screeched as the water began to churn. You could just make out the outline of their bodies under the surface of the water, thick and glistening. The two boys pulled at each other for purchase scrambling for safety. Surprisingly it was Mellar who was dragged under first, a loop of flesh wrapping around his throat. The others followed and he disappeared quickly beneath the bubbling surface.
In contrast, Isna’s demise was much more dramatic. He had pulled the knife from his leg with a great grunt which had frankly surprised Castin, and drew another from his belt. He slashed and sawed at the horrors around him, prying one off that had clamped to his leg. Another had wrapped around his wrist and he began to stab at it with both knives until something else caught his attention. One of the Medusea had risen out of the water and swayed like a snake. The bullet-like head, totally featureless, seemed to regard the young man before it. Then it opened and Isna began to scream.
The head seemed to ripple, the flesh pulling back as it rose slightly. It twisted slightly and the hooks that held its mouth closed underwater were now moving freely. Wet flesh peeled back as its four triangular “lips” opened and gasped slightly. There were no teeth per se just those hooks, row after row to pull you farther in. No swift and sure bite. Just those hooks. It grasped forward and Isna’s head was gone, closed inside that flowering mouth. His screams could still be heard, echoing now, until the weight of the creature pulled him forward and he was swallowed completely.
The three of them watch in silence until the water had calmed and the Medusea again seemed to disappear in the muck. Corby had his gun drawn and he had it fixed on the two elder hunters, his eyes still scanning the water below them. Both Sari and Castin were looking at the water as well, aware that one of them had been responsible for the deaths of the young men while the other had condemned them to their fates by her silencewords. Finally Castin broke the silence which seemed to have stretched on forever. He turned to Corby. “Would you like to find your way back and tell everyone what happened? Or do you want to know why they are dead?” His voice was cold and hard and ready to accept any answer. The gun swayed for a moment as the young man’s eyes went from the water to the hunters and back again. Finally the barrel fell away and he looked up defeated. “I want to know.” The words were hollow and the boys eyes were bleak under the googles, now the only light source in the caverns. He holstered the rifle and got back into line, all life seeming to have left the once gregarious youth. Castin took a moment to feel pity for the young man, both for the death of his brother and of his innocence. He wanted to tell him why, wanted to explain to Corby that it was the only way, that he and his brother had been meant to go back after Isna died. He could not bring himself to say the words.
Castin nodded wordlessly and stepped forward. They fell silently into a line. Time seemed to shorten and they moved at a quick pace. Eventually Castin slowed down and began to pick his way through little used water ways and narrow ledges. On occasion he would pause and touch this wall or that, muttering to himself as he followed his sister’s path. Time meant nothing now and they ate and slept when they needed to rather than adhering to a schedule. Corby, of course, said little even as Sari continued her lessons. Neither mentioned what had happened to the others and both avoided looking at Castin. They all knew when the time limit had passed and could only guess what was going on back at the village. Most likely the three boys had been pronounced dead but there was no mention of it.
Finally Castin stopped them in a huge cavern made entirely from rock except for one side, a single wall made of metal. Carved into that wall was a great ziggurat which looked like a temple tower, having the form of a terraced pyramid of successively receding levels. They touched it and it seemed warm and alive. It was a door.
