Storymania - The Blood-Rage by L Clayton Bennett

The Blood-Rage (25)
L Clayton Bennett

CHAPTER 26

A battle can never be won by defense. At some point,

one must attack.

-From the Thoughts of Night Mist-

Looking for a safe place to cross, they followed the river as it leads them up into a canyon. Darkcian's neck was beginning to ache from looking up all the time, for the mountain range ahead was huge, towering above their heads almost straight up, an imposing structure from their viewpoint. As usual he was amazed. However, the mountains were not what Darkcian would have called rugged. Instead they appeared smooth-edged, rather like a grouping of large mounds than a sharp line of rock. They were gray in color.

The sound of the roaring river to their right was almost deafening. The swift waters had long ago cut a deep groove into the rock that now bounded its course, and it was evident to all who now rode near its banks that the power of that much moving water was dangerous and awesome. Patra had said earlier that they could not safely cross such a torrent of water that had been confronting them for the last ten miles. So, as they rode ever deeper into the canyon, the river seemed to be herding them closer and closer to the sheer rock walls that were to their left.

Just when they thought they would have to turn back in order to find a safer spot downstream, a natural crossing presented itself in the form of huge boulders lying scattered in a narrow path across the rushing waters.

"We'll try it here," Rasp announced. "See how they're spaced? A strong mu-lynx can jump from bolder to bolder."

"What about that last one?" Gravestone warned. "It's low to the surface, and the water has splashed over it. See how it's wet and probably slippery?"

"I see," the older warrior replied. "That'll be the most dangerous spot. I'll go first." He turned to look backwards. "Erendria, you bring up the rear. I want our student to be between you and your mother-teacher." Without another glance, Rasp kicked his mu-lynx into leaping.

The beast sprang to the first rock.

Darkcian thought: This old one is foolish or suicidal. He even cuts short a discussion of the dangers.

Not pausing, Rasp's mu-lynx leaped again and again, leapfrogging from bolder to bolder.

Darkcian watched with great interest. Ah, he observed silently, I can mind-hear Rasp's mental commands to his cat. The orders are powerful and direct. He doesn't tolerate any hesitation from the beast. Is this how a master controls a slave?

The old one made it across all five rocks to the other side. Gravestone went next and he, too, was successful.

Patra made it to the wet rock and was then met with a near catastrophe. Her mu-lynx lost its footing and slipped halfway off the boulder, its hind legs dragging in the raging river. Darkcian could see the beast's front claws dig into the rock, and a howl rose from its throat.

At once Darkcian kicked his cat into leaping, speaking to it mentally in midair. They struck the first rock and immediately leaped to the next, then the next, then the next, and then the last, the one where Patra's cat still clung, howling.

There wasn't enough room on the bolder for two mu-lynxes, but he had already computed the solution to that. He reached out and grabbed a huge handful of the other mu-lynx's fur and, with gut-wrenching determination, pulled the other cat up beside his where each balanced the other on the rock--his arm was the connection between to the two masses, each hanging at a forty- five degree angle from each other. Patra's cat now had both of its wet hind feet on the rock.

He thought-spoke to both mu-lynxes, and the animals jumped safely together onto the bank.

Patra's mu-lynx turned its head toward him and howled one last time, but this cry had a different sound to it, one of victory and gratitude.

He observed the older woman. She sat proud on her mu-lynx, her face calm. They know no fear, he thought. Or is it that they don't care if they die?

"That was a brave act, student," Patra said calmly. "I was doomed until you acted."

He looked at her sharply, studying that flat face of hers. "It would have grieved me deeply if you had died."

She raised her eyebrows. "Why? What is my life to you? You owe me nothing. In the short time we have known each other, I've only brought you pain and discomfort."

"Not true," he said immediately. "It is to you, in part, that I owe for almost every bit of information that I now possess. Since that knowledge is what makes me what I am, in a sense that makes my life your creation. In that way, a student soon becomes a part of his teacher. At least, that's how it seems to me."

Her expression softened. "I understand your meaning. Thank you."

Her thanks had no enthusiasm. Can life mean so little to her? To them? What is this existence they experience with no passion? Why do I put more value on it than they?

Erendria's last leap put her between him and her mother. And he sighed in gratitude that the last of their group was across.

They all sat upon their mu-lynxes in silence, mostly, Darkcian guessed, in respect for Gravestone who was the only tense-faced rational among them. Among the beasts, Patra's cat was breathing deeply, trying to recover from its fright. Darkcian stroked its mind with praise and reassurance.

"Time to move on," Rasp stated. "The memory of our fear serves no purpose. We all live to forget."

Live to forget? Why? That's irrational. Memory allows us to learn so we don't commit the same mistake twice.

They turned and followed the old warrior further into the canyon, riding single file, searching the piles of rocks, boulders, and crevasses for another kind of danger, the hidden and hungry kind. Again a constant tension crept over Darkcian; the feeling was beginning to be normal.

He was still in deep thought as they climbed ever upward. Once again, he was mulling over his observation of them during a time of extreme danger. And like the other dangerous times, it had always been afterwards, when the crises had passed, that he had been able to study their faces. Do they really hide their emotions, or is it that they have none? he wondered. Patra had had a resigned look about her, like her end had finally come; and it had been no surprise, maybe even a relief. Rasp and Erendria still had no expressions, not even any of concern. He didn't understand that at all. Where are the expressed results of friendship and love?

AREN'T YOU AWARE THAT YOU EMULATE THAT BEHAVIOR? YOU SHOW NO EMOTION EITHER.

That was many days ago. I had no fear then.

WHY NOT?

I had not yet discovered beauty.

WHAT HAS BEAUTY TO DO WITH FEAR?

The thought of being without it is frightful.

YOU THINK THEY DON'T KNOW OF BEAUTY AND THE ALARM AT ITS LOSS?

He paused to think. I wonder? They never speak of it. If not, what makes one behave that way? Aren't the suns-sets and stars wonderful? Don't the flowers smell sweet, the food taste good? Doesn't the pounding of their hearts bring them excitement, a good kind of excitement? Don't they hear the concern in a friend's voice? See the complexity in their minds? Why don't they enjoy these beautiful things? Or if they do, why don't they express it? He shook his head in puzzlement. He knew that he enjoyed all these things, and he let it show in his face. Why not them? What was the difference between them? Memories? Was it really just that? Memories that destroy pleasure, memories so horrible that life couldn't be enjoyed any more? What memories could be that bad? Or was it as Rasp implied, they simply forgot all non-pleasantries?

Then again, Gravestone did show an expression: horror. Yes, horror and fear. Why only him?

HE LOVES HER, came the thought.

Is that it? Love brings horror?

NO, NO. ONE DOES NOT CAUSE THE OTHER. SO, DON'T PUT A FALSE EMPHASIS ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE TWO. LOVE BRING SO MUCH PLEASURE SO MUCH OF THE TIME THAT THE THOUGHT OF LOSING THAT LOVE IS WHAT BRINGS THE HORROR. THE KEY CONCEPT THAT LINKS LOVE AND HORROR IS LOSS.

He frowned. Then why did Patra not show horror upon the impending loss of Gravestone that her own death would have caused?

WHEN ONE IS GOING TO DIE, AND IS CONVINCED OF IT, THERE IS NO POINT IN WORRYING, FOR THE DEAD KNOW NO LOSS. THOUGHT IS NOT CARRIED ACROSS THE BOUNDARY. TO THEM, DEATH IS AN END TO SUFFERING. KNOWING THAT, SHE INSTANTLY ACCEPTED HER OWN END. AND IN DOING SO, REJECTED ALL EMOTION OF DESPAIR AND HORROR. IT WAS AN EXTREMELY MATURE REACTION.

I see. But it's not clear to me what death is.

IT IS ALL THINGS THAT LIFE IS NOT.

"Keep alert," came Rasp's sharp warning, interrupting Darkcian's thoughts. "There's sign here. Rationals, many rationals. See? Over there," he pointed. "Fire ash. Maybe a day old."

"Careless," Erendria said. "They have violated Agon's Fifth Law."

"Comes from traveling in too large a group," Gravestone said. "Too much talk brings a relaxing on the part of some. Or, maybe these just have no respect for Agon; maybe they're criminals." He dismounted, kicked the ashes to the wind, and re-mounted.

"We have come too far up this canyon to turn around and find another path," Patra said.

Rasp snarled, "No matter. I turn around for no one anyway. A little bloodletting now and then takes the boredom out of a long trip."

"You are a bad influence on my daughter, old man," Patra said with some heat.

"That makes us even," he bit back, then turned and winked at the older woman, trying to take some of the sting out of that remark.

Darkcian observed Erendria, noted the smile on her lips and thought: She lives for excitement. And only killing causes it.

"Listen to the minds of your mu-lynxes," Gravestone ordered. "They link and talk to others ahead."

"You are right, second-love," Patra said. "Maybe twenty or thirty cats."

"With warriors riding on each of them," added Erendria.

"Danger," Patra whispered softly, yet loud enough for Darkcian to hear it.

"Battle," came Erendria's louder reply. It sounded to Darkcian like a distorted echo from her mother.

Gravestone glared at his daughter, "We don't seek their blood, Erendria. If we meet up with them, I want no provocation from you, hear?"

"Of course, father-teacher," the younger woman answered. "But if they--"

The interrupting scream of the attacking rock-panther brought an immediate response from the Kalts and Rasp. Two thrown daggers plunged into the beast while it was still in midair. And a downward chop of Rasp's sword finished the kill by cutting the animal in half. It dropped to the ground dead, just in front of Darkcian.

He looked up from the corpse and saw that Erendria had not lost her smile. For some reason, that worried him more than the panther's quick attack.

An hour later, as they rounded a bend in the trail, Darkcian heard the distant roar of something that sounded similar to the roar of the river they had crossed earlier.

With another hour of riding, the sound increased in intensity until, finally, they emerged into an open area and the source of the noise was before them. It was a waterfall two hundred feet in height. White mist boiled up from the huge pool into which it fell.

Oh, Darkcian thought. How beautiful and majestic. I can feel the power of it thundering in my bones. And that! What is that? He pointed and asked aloud, "What?"

Patra must have noticed the look of delight on his face, for she answered, "A double rainbow, Darkcian. The mist thrown up by the water's impact refracts the suns-light into the primary colors. Beautiful isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, "like a suns-set, yet more colors." Ah, she has finally admitted to the recognition of beauty.

"Don't gaze at beauty too long," Rasp scolded. "When the eyes are drawn to that which is pleasing, they don't search elsewhere for the predators. I've seen leopards crouch in the shade of rocks and wait for stupid creatures to come upon such sights. As they sat there in awe, the leopard obtained its meal."

They all turned to look into the shadows, then wary, rode on.

Ah, Darkcian thought, they turn away from beauty because it endangers survival. How sad. Is life worth that?

One more hour of climbing brought them to the range's divide, Darkcian observed, and they started to descend. There were few trees here, although some grass grew in patches where the rock formations were hollowed out enough to collect dirt and sand. In the deeper crevasses, where the suns-light had trouble looking, there was blue-white ice. Above them, still more of the mountain loomed like a gray, stationary cloud. Beyond the air was clear; and, by looking back, he could see a vast expanse of land running to the horizon. Even the river they had crossed earlier was visible, looking now like a small, silver snake wiggling its way toward the sharp horizon--that region was now clear of the earlier clouds. He thought: So quick the weather changes, like it's alive and flowing . . . or growing in anger.

"Be alert," came Rasp's order from around a curve in the trail. The older man had stopped his mu-lynx.

Darkcian, with the others in single file behind him, turned the corner also, rode up beside the old warrior, and stopped. He saw that Rasp had found the group that had been ahead of them.

There were about twenty of them. Some were lying on the ground, resting; others were doing camp chores; the mu-lynxes were sitting on their haunches. All now turned to look in their direction.

As was the old warrior's way, Rasp rode boldly forward, raised his left hand, and said, "Suns-light to you warriors. May your enemies fear you this day."

Two or three in the group nodded in greeting; the rest raised their left hands. None spoke. All were male.

Erendria rode up and stopped beside Rasp. She put her left hand on her hip and gazed lazily out over the group, saying, "The spontaneous enthusiasm of your greetings brings a warm glow to my heart." The smile on her lips contradicted the cold of her green eyes.

Darkcian felt a surge of pride at the boldness of the two; he didn't understand why.

An older warrior with a scowl on his face detached himself from the group and ambled over to stand before her. "These are dangerous times, dagger," he said. "Caution is not bad manners."

"Dangerous times?" she questioned. "What times are not dangerous on Agon?"

The other said, "I refer to the coming hunt and the news from the lok last night about the memory-lost warrior."

Darkcian noticed the man's eyes searching past her to the others, his gaze finally coming to rest on himself. There was recognition in that look, probably from the lok's description of their band and, particularly, of himself.

Darkcian kneed his mu-lynx forward. Boldness is the key, he thought. Stopping before the other warrior, he looked down and said, "If you listened to the lok carefully, you should also know that the council wants me alive at the pole city. Do you obey the wisdom of the chosen few of Agon? If not, I may have to fight and spill your blood upon these rocks."

The older warrior stood looking up at Darkcian for a long time, his hand stroking his chin. Finally, "For one who may be weak, you speak without fear." He nodded. "I like that in others. However, that's not to say that I think you could spill my blood. In that saying, you were a little too optimistic. You're much too young to hope to best one of my experience." He switched his gaze to Erendria. "Seems as though arrogance rides in pairs within your group."

"Well," she snorted, "now that we've got the boasting over with, perhaps an invitation to dismount would be in order."

The older warrior laughed. "Join us, by all means. It has been a long time since we've enjoyed the company of a dagger of your beauty and--," he hesitated, "--and of your spirit." Others in his group were now also grinning.

Darkcian dismounted and, along with the Kalts and Rasp, followed this group's leader as he introduced himself and his men. The leader called himself Carlon and seemed to Darkcian to be a mild sort. The memory-lost one tried not to show any concern when the other warriors refused to greet him; some even turned their backs upon his approach. In two or three, he saw fear in their eyes. Somehow he liked that.

FOOL, came the gentle thought from the back of his mind.

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