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Chapter 4: The Noble Hunt

~ 865 RE ~

~ Southern Kingdom, Sacred Grounds Of The Aria ~

Vast expanses smothered in a mossy glory of crimson hues spread over the fertile earth. The verdant glade was punctuated sporadically with the form of a twisted tree or a defiant patch of grass. An ethereal symphony of birdsong interlaced with the faint hum of restless insects echoed from the shadowy abyss of the encircling woodlands surrounding the open meadow. Nestled beneath the labyrinthine shade of a gnarled tree and cloaked within the sinewy grasp of the tall grass, a clandestine group of neros hunters moved silently, so easy to miss.

As the stealthy pack wound their way across the meadowlands, they abruptly froze under the silent command of Lymric’s uplifted hand. Not an arm’s length away from her father, Belairus beheld the panoramic vastness of the open terrain. With her fox-like ears cocked attentively towards her father’s whispered question, she scanned the panorama that lay before them. “Belairus, what do you see?”

Gently caressing the reed-like grass hiding them, she parted them to reveal a bizarre creature, standing solitaire several yards away, its tail twitching impatiently. Its body, draped in the spoils of a deer’s fur, bore uncanny resemblance to a rhino on two legs, the creature’s mouse-like snout snuffling the off-putting scent of orange fungus beneath it. Its large talons, reminiscent of a predatory bird, clawed deeply into the moist soil. Perched majestically on its head, the long horns bore striking resemblance to a regal crown. “An Elken,” Belairus returned her father’s query, her youthful knowledge shaped by the village tales about these horned beasts. The beast gave a groaning belch, lifted a hoof off the ground, and returned to its curious inspection of the mossy bed.

A youthful neros hurriedly advanced to join Lymric, whispering in awed tones, “The horns…remarkable length. It’s a relic, mighty yet speedy. And oh, how tasty! What a fitting quarry for our beloved princess.” His enthusiasm reflected in iridescent swirls surrounding his right eye.

“Uncle Asgar echoes my sentiments, father. Wouldn’t you agree?” Belairus interjected, acknowledgment of her words coming in the form of a firm pat on her shoulder by Asgar himself. The intensity of Asgar’s pearl white grin caught Lymric’s attention.

Crouching lower, Lymric whispered into Belairus’s ear. “A single noise you make will have it fleeing. You ought to be,” a significant pause accentuated his next words, “quiet, patient, calculated.” His predatory claws motioned towards the beast’s vulnerable throat. “It will attempt to flee, but a precise strike is all you need.”

Belairus’s heart pounded with growing excitement. Silently extending from the cloistered foliage, she made her move. Skimming the earth, her hands hovered inches above the grass as she closed the gap between herself and her targeted quarry, which seemed blissfully unaware, continuing to idly tap the ground with its sinuous tail.

A taunting murmuration emerged from Lymric directed at Asgar, “Let’s measure your worth, dear brother.” A smug expression crossed Asgar’s face, confident in the skills he imparted to his niece.

Belairus’s heart hitched when the elken, with sudden dread, shot upright, its once complacent gaze consumed by the chilling clasp of fear. She froze, conscious that any inadvertent movement would spook her potential quarry. A near tangible chill descended upon her when the elken swung its broad head towards her. It stared at her, its suspicious orbs scanning the grasslands, on high alert for any sign of danger. With bated breath, she held her ground, the keen anticipation of her pack palpable in the vibrating silence.

A gleam of triumph flashed across her eyes when the startled elken finally lowered his head. Her tactic had succeeded, she reassured herself. Unbeknownst to her impending doom, the elken was engrossed with a tantalizing strip of moss, regaining its oblivious complacency. Slinking forward, Belairus stepped into the mushy shade of moss, which eagerly swallowed her foot up to her ankle. Swiftly feeling the loss of her anklet as it slipped off, she momentarily broke focus to glance at her foot, only to be met with a treacherous slip on the slick moss carpet. Her stumble echoed loudly through the still air, draining her of all colors. Lifting her head immediately, she was met with the haunting gaze of the elken, its eyes expanding in terror, much like ink staining clear water.

Launching herself forth, Belairus decided on quick, hasty action. Charging the elken with the primal intent of delivering a fatal blow, she braced her spear against her flank. Swift as the wind, the elken whipped its tail, a dusty mist cloud forming around Belairus on impact, slapping her hard across her face. Attempting to catch her balance, she instead found herself sprawled on the ground, watching helplessly as the elusive beast scampered off into the dense woods. Lifting a hand to her stinging cheek, she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood on her lips. As she watched her pack, now fully revealed, emerge from their cover, a heavy sigh escaped her lips.

“Patience, young one. The path to becoming a skilled hunter is a long and rigorous one,” a muscular lady, named Narin, reassured her, helping her get up. “You managed to get incredibly close, honestly.”

“But it escaped…” she pouted, glancing timidly at her comrades.

A hearty, boisterous laughter echoed around them. “Well, Narin is correct, little flower. If none ever escaped, we’d grow flaccid and complacent from overindulgence, while the forest would be bereft of its inhabitants.” Asgar added, his wide grin accentuating his point. “Remember, even the formidable Asgar has tasted defeat in hunting. No room for pouts here, only gleeful smiles. We are hunters, and setbacks come with the trade.”

Belairus simmered in quiet humiliation, the echoes of her recent failures in hunting rabbits, foxes, and other small quarry still searing her pride. The humiliating defeat gnawed persistently at her ego, an insidious whisper that she had discredited herself in the tribal assembly’s eyes. However, fortune, it seemed, had a peculiar sense of humor. As she maneuvered through the underbrush later that day, she eyed a bristled, muddy beast. It promised an opportunity for reprieve, a chance to restore her tarnished reputation.

She stalked forwards, grip tightening around the coarse leather wrap of her spear, ripples of determination sluicing through each determined stride. Breaking through the foliage, she locked eyes with a mature boar just as it wheeled around to confront her, lowing threateningly, tusks glistening in the fading sunlight. Frozen in this pivotal moment, she didn’t dare risk alerting her tribe with a call.

Her honeyed eyes widened in shock as the boar launched from the thicket, a cacophony of snarls echoing around the eerily quiet clearing. Terrifyingly huge and monstrous in her adrenaline-tinted vision, the boar dwarfed her in comparison. Side-stepping the creature’s ferocious charge at the last moment, she embedded her claws into its thick hide, leaving behind a raw gash.

“Belairus!” Narin’s sharp cry fractured the tense silence, the tribe elder being the first to happen upon the impromptu confrontation. Asgar, their grizzled warrior, burst onto the scene moments later, eyes wide with a primal blend of fear and anticipation as the boar redirected its anger towards Belairus. Again, the tusked beast lunged, but its mighty charge was thwarted by the pale girl’s spear piercing effortlessly through its skull. Her small form jumped off the unwieldy polearm, clasping onto the boar’s bristling back and plunging her fingers into its muscular neck. The boar’s blood-curdling squeal of agony pierced the tranquillity, and with a brutal kick, knocked Belairus off its back. She tumbled through the dust, finally regaining balance on all fours, eyes narrowing in determination as she squared off with her wounded adversary.

Lymric, the seasoned huntmaster, raised his hand in a sign for Asgar to hold back. Asgar cast a dubious look at Lymric, his fingers nervously tracing the coarse wrap of his spear, primed and ready to leap into action. Lymric responded to Asgar’s disbelief with an adamant shake of his head, locking his gaze onto Belairus. Asgar exhaled deeply, hope welling up in his heart as he silently begged the girls’ strength to win against the wild boar. Unfazed by its ghastly wound, the boar charged at Belairus. With a swift, precise movement, she repositioned her hands on the spear, guiding it along the beast’s gait, pulling free the spear from its skull. The hollow left behind exuded a stream of thick, dark blood. With a guttural cry of fury, the boar lunged once more, only to be met with Belairus’s spear lodged on its arched back. With each shifting stride, Belairus plunged her spear deep into the fallen beast, assuring herself of its demise. A swell of raw, hard-earned pride surged through her as she gazed upon her quarry. The sight was met with matching pride mirrored in Asgar’s beaming smile.

“My delicate flower blossoms out as a fierce huntress.” Asgar’s voice was thick with emotion.

“Indeed, she is your blood,” Narin chimed, resting her weight against the flint-sharp spear.

Asgar laughed, a joyous rumble. “Smile, my dear.” With a triumphant smile lighting up her face, she acquiesced. “Her prowess amazes us, brother. She outshines us all,” he declared, thoroughly inspecting the behemoth creature that was felled single-handedly by the girl. “A bearded boar is no ordinary catch. One would have to be quite fortunate to stumble upon one.”

Lymric sauntered over to Belairus, hoisting her up in his strong arms. “Your first hunt, a bearded boar. Your father swells with pride,” he voice filled with supreme satisfaction, as he playfully tickled her belly.

Barieve, another of their formidable warriors, grinned widely, “Marvelous.” He smacked his lips in anticipation, “I look forward to the feast.”

Asgar slung the beast behind him, eyes sparkling with shared excitement. “This is a grand hunt, Belairus. Lumaria smiles upon you. Even the strongest boar succumbs to a determined girl’s spear. This epic hunt will echo in our tribe’s folklore.” Belairus’s triumphant grin illuminated her face in the glow of satisfaction, crystallizing this moment of glory in the annals of their tribe’s history.

Perched on a log thickly overgrown with moss, Belairus sat in quiet companionship beside her father. A diminutive fire crackled before them, its dancing flames casting playful shadows around the cluster. Over it, wooden branches played the role of makeshift spits, skewering the slaughtered boar. Barrieve held a sentinel post in the canopy, his vigilant eyes piercing the gloom of the dense woods, ever watchful for the telltale signs of impending threat. Below, Asgar managed the spit with steady hands, rotating the evening’s meal with precision, the wafting aroma making Belairus’s mouth prickle in anticipation. Nearby, Narin lounged in cat-like ease on a sun-baked flat stone.

Asgar’s attention trekked from the mesmerizing flames to Belairus, his gaze searing with unasked questions. “Belairus,” he began, his rumbling voice punctuating the usual woodland symphony, “What do you think Barrieve is searching for?”

Belairus’s innocent eyes blinked at him from beneath a furrowed brow. “We’re in the land of a winged god,” she offered, the statement igniting a spark in her verdant irises. He nodded confirmation, “Yes, my girl, a winged god it is.”

“The same winged gods revered at the wisdom tree?” queried Belairus.

“This one shares our realm. The others sought refuge in the mystic land of the wisdom tree.” Lymric offered, his fingers tenderly brushing over Belairus’s hair. “Visaraliel is the name of the goddess who reigns over these woods. I have not met her personally, but Barrieve has an intriguing tale of an encounter.”

Barrieve, hearing his name, cast a roguish grin down at the small gathering. “An encounter I’d rather not repeat.”

Belairus’s gaze locked onto Barrieve, her astonishment audibly clear. “You met a winged god!” she gasped. “What was she like? Can you describe her?”

With measured regard, Barrieve’s gaze connected with Belairus’s before it unfocused again, turning back to its duty scanning the twilight forest. “She bore the physique of a feather-plumed viper, ram-like horns adorning her proud head. Her wingspan dwarfed everything, yet could be cleverly hidden on her back. Strong limbs reminiscent of a mastodon provided her sturdy ground. A tail, long and twisted like an ancient tree, stirred my primal fears. She gave me leave to return back home, and I did,” Barrieve concluded, his voice a bare whisper upon the still air.

“What became of the winged gods?” Belairus asked, her voice carrying an echo of apprehension.

“They departed, child. No one knows why they did, just that they’re no longer with us.” Asgar’s note of melancholy barely noticeable. “The priests prophesize that they will return when the world’s end draws near- for a final battle with the sky gods.”

Beliarus’s gaze transfixed on the roasting boar before her, flickering embers mirrored in her bright eyes. A hushed whisper trailed off of her lips, chilling the warmth of the fire, “When the world ends…”.

With a chilling quietness, not a single birdsong fluttered among the timbers. Narin snuffed at the crisp forest air, her jade eyes flashing wide with indignant fury. A curious scent, oddly out of place, filled her nostrils. Belairus, too, detected the alien aroma and looked at her father for confirmation. His wide nostrils flared, his ear tufts swiveled towards the source of the scent.

From the periphery, Asgar’s gravelly whisper slipped between the trees, “I’d know that briny stench anywhere… it’s a human.” Simultaneously, Asgar, Barieve, and Narin hunched defensively, sharp claws extending from their furred digits, tails bristling fiercely, and their pupils thinning into menacing slits. Almost in chorus, they hissed, “The interloper will die.”

“No.” The unexpected coldness in Lymric’s retort curtailed the threat. His hair sparking with electricity, tense vibrancies in the air followed Lymric’s reply, “Not unless my word permits it.” They pursued the peculiar smell, eventually landing their gazes on a shivering figure; an earless stranger clad in a dirt-ridden jerkin vest. His bulging eyes and trembling limbs cry out in silent panic, personifying the canvas of fear. He stumbled aimlessly amid the underbrush, lost amidst the labyrinth of trees.

Lyrmic gently palmed Belairus’s head “This is a worthy trial, my cub. Well? What shall we do with this frail_human?”

Pursing her lips, Belairus pondered over the question, “Is this truly the feared human?” Her oceanic eyes brimmed with curiosity. “He seems neither formidable nor mighty. Shouldn’t we discern his intentions before acting?”

A scoff parted Asgar’s sneer. His withering gaze stung, “Tarnish our sacred land? No, not I.” Assertively, he maneuvered towards the trembling foreigner, spear firmly gripped. Yet, before he got far enough, Lymric placed a steady hand on Asgar’s shoulder, firmly rooting him to the spot, “And why not?” he challenged.

Fangs gleaming as Lymric snarled, emitted a chilling growl that echoed his aggression. “She needs to comprehend the essence of leadership. I yearn to see her diplomatic prowess.”

“The Lumaria guide us,” Asgar grumbled, his voice laced with resentment. “I contend we’re veering towards disaster, entertaining the whims of the little blossom.”

A soft, stoic word escaped Belairus, “Father,” as she gingerly placed her hand on his broad chest. The mention of the title subtly pacified Lymric, his feral snarl receding into a tamed frown. Then, she tilted her head to face the still-sniggering Asgar. “Our pact with the human kingdom of Haven. Have you dismissed the respect we owe the Aria? Are you willing to tarnish the Hukoten’s name before our allies?” She fired back, her cinnamon eyes piercing his.

A flicker of surprise danced across Asgar’s face as he spluttered, “The little blossom dare outstretch her roots?”

“To the Aria, we pledge allegiance,” Belairus further clenched her words, her voice stern but her demeanor composed.

With an indignant hiss, Narin countered, “The vermin trespasses our territory. This is a direct breach of our treaty.”

“Then should I execute him?” Belairus teased the question.

Barieve’s ears perked up as he hoarsely murmured a sinster “Yes, and feast on his corpse afterwards.”

Revulsion marred Belairus’s facial features as she squirmed, “Barieve, he reeks! Would you really devour that?”

The elder male, Lymric, then rose from the shadows confining him and stepped in front of the pack. With an aura of majesty, he advanced towards the stranger, serene yet stern. His penetrating gaze assessed the intruder. “State your origin,” he demanded, tone low but assertive.

True terror reflected in the stranger’s bulging eyes. “I am lost, please, I beg your mercy.” He fumbled to pull his empty pockets inside out, revealing his vulnerable state. “I pose no threat. As you can see, I carry no weapons. I am weaponless, I swear…”

Displeased by the answer, Lymric snarled, plunging his spear into the earth. “That wasn’t my question.”

Flustered, the human whimpered, “I hail from Haven. I am just a lost wanderer. I plead your forgiveness. My caravan was separated from me. I’ve been wandering aimlessly in the northern direction, or at least I thought so. Now I am in the midst of these dense woods…” The last sentence caught in his throat, dread written all over his face.

Sensing the man’s disorientation, Belairus leaned into her father’s ear, murmuring hushed truths, “He’s confused, father. He’s not marching north but south.” Capturing her father’s gaze, she noticed a glimmer of amusement and approval dawning in his eyes. He cautiously turned his attention back to the stranger.

“You might want to show gratification towards my daughter. Her counsel saved your life. Without her, your life would’ve been extinguished in the blink of an eye, for we don’t treat trespassers lightly.” Asserting his dominance, Lymric’s voice boomed, laced with a sliver of animalistic ferocity. Was it a growl or a warning? Turning to Belairus, the girl approached the human gingerly, her fleshy, clawed hands stretching towards him.

The human involuntarily gasped, “The Wildling territory? You show… kindness?”

Belairus examined the human intensely as she circled around him. His nervousness was palpable; his eyes darted back and forth between her and the three, obviously menacing figures. Fear took form in a lump stuck in his throat. Just as he gulped nervously, a powerful growl echoed. It was Asgar again, “What wind blows you here?” The sudden shift in attention made Lymric’s gaze fall upon Asgar, sharp as a pair of daggers.

“Our caravan fell under ambush, attacked by brigands. Possibly outlaws from the Golden Kingdom but I can’t be certain. They plundered our carts. Amid the chaos… I cowardly fled. In my fear, I lost my sense of direction. My intention was to head north but instead, I’ve been trekking south. Such a frightening surprise! Could you please provide me an escort…out of your territory? I bear no ill intentions.”

Upon hearing the human’s plea, Lymric darted his gaze at the salivating Barieve. “Barieve, can I trust you to safely escort him to our border?”

Pain masked Barieve’s face at the thought, yet he dutifully accepted. “Of course.”

Lymric’s growl indicated his strict orders, “He mustn’t be harmed. Not even a scratch.”

Belairus reached out to the human, her curiosity consuming her. She gestured towards his human features. “Where is your tail? And what happened to your ears?”

A weak smile danced on the human’s pale face. “Humans don’t have tails, we’re a bit… different.” He held out his hands, “And we don’t have claws either. My ears are on the sides of my head.”

“Your eyes! They appear as mere dots…” Belairus’s chuckle echoed through the desolate woods, “We really differ a lot. Given that, I’m pleased to meet you, human. May you walk your path in peace.”

A shudder seemed to coil up his spine as he noted the looming figure of Barieve before him. Giving a respectful nod to Belairus, the human murmured, “I am forever indebted to you for your kindness.”

Asgar spat crassly, “Get moving, human…” He stomped off, while Barieve led the shivering man onto a different path. Over her shoulder, Belairus watched the scene unfold before turning around, “He was terrified yet kind. What is it about humans that threaten us this much?”

“Their presence alone is a threat,” snarled Asgar, “we should’ve annihilated them long ago.” His hostile words echoed in the dense forest as he sprinted forward.

A gentle sigh escaped Belairus’s lips while Lymric regarded him gravely. “There was a time when we were at war with the humans. It happened before any of us were born. Nobody remembers why this battle commenced, but we’ve been living at edge ever since. Once, the humans from Haven were our assumed allies. But now… it’s a rather strained relationship. You surprise me knowing about this supposed alliance; however, it holds an immense significance. Without them, the humans from other lands would surely overthrow the Aria with their weaponry. Thus, we provide them a sanctuary against other kingdoms.”

The bitterness in Narin’s word gave her a feral outlook. “It wasn’t that long ago, Lymric. It wasn’t long enough to wash away their betrayals. I haven’t forgiven them.”

Lymric casually flicked his tail at Narin. “Those weren’t the true representatives of Haven,” he corrected.

“Fenrir told me of the human alliance, and the potential peril they pose, but I remain perplexed. If the humans are our allies, why don’t we trust them now?” The question hung in the air, a moment of silence resonating its weight.

“Haven was seized by interlopers from a foreign land,” Lymric’s voice boomed in the hollow silence. “They launched an attack on Aria, compelling our elders to retaliate, hence the massacre of the people of Haven. But not all humans perished.” His gaze hardened, tusks gleaming under the sun-dappled canopy. “Much of the Hukoten still harbors bitterness towards Haven’s people. Despite the onslaught, Aria insisted on preserving the treaty. That’s why we harbor such disparagement towards humans, Belairus. Your kindness could potentially be your downfall. They’d kill you with a thrust of their blade if given a chance. They loathe us as ardently as we despise them.”

The melancholy in his eyes wasn’t lost on Belairus. “That’s lamentable,” she murmured, forging ahead down the forest path amidst playful shadows and light, her heart carrying the weight of her newfound understanding.

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