Chapter Text
“I… huh… think we… lost them,” Takiv managed to say as he struggled to catch his breath.
His older brother was in much better shape than he was and consequently was better suited to outrunning the Carja when it mattered the most. Tavim for his part said nothing as he looked back towards the direction they’d just came from, expecting to see a glimpse of the soldiers chasing after them. Minutes passed until he felt confident enough to believe they'd outrun their pursuers.
“They’re gone,” he confirmed as he began scanning for a landmark he could identify, “But we better keep moving before they find us again.”
“Thank the Forge it’s over,” Takiv sighed with relief.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Tavim warned as he realized where they were, “We’re in Nora land now. If they don’t know we’re already, they soon will. We’ll have to move carefully and quickly. A Nora Brave can track a mouse on stone should they want to. We better find somewhere to camp for the night. There should be some Old World Ruins nearby.”
Takiv felt his sense of relief vanish in an instant. It didn’t matter if they were Oseram, Carja or Banuk, the Nora did not tolerate outsiders regardless of their tribal origin. They barely tolerated their own Outcasts most of the time. Still, it was better to run into a band of Nora Braves than it was to get captured by a group of Carja Kestrels. Better to die quickly at the hands of the Nora than be thrown into the Sun-Ring by the Carja. He found himself eyeing every shadow and jumping at every noise as the two brothers marched north, reaching some Old World Ruins as the sun finally disappeared beyond the western mountain range.
“I suppose we should be lucky we haven’t encountered any Nora yet,” Takiv commented with a yawn as he built a small campfire with branches pulled from some dead ridgewood hidden amongst the ruins.
“Don’t be too sure,” Tavim warned him as he pulled out what little food they’d been able to cling onto during their earlier escape, “They’re probably watching us from a distance. Too much effort to kill, or perhaps they’re making sure we’re alone before deciding what to do.”
“How would you know?”
“I came here all the time years ago, remember? Looking for scrap with Boland and his crew.”
“Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that. At least we got a warm fire for a change. Where are we anyway?”
Tavim pulled out strips of dried boar meat and handed several to his brother as they at down by the growing fire. Fresh boar meat was always preferred, especially when cooked properly and served with several kegs of ale, but these days fresh meat and good ale were luxuries very few people could enjoy.
“Maybe half a day west of Devils Grief. Then maybe two and a half days to the mountains east of the Nora Sacred Land. I hear there are vast planes of grassland and wind so strong it can lift herds of machine into the air beyond these mountains.”
“By spit and fire you come out with the dumbest goat shit. There ain’t no wind strong enough to lift any machine, not even a watcher.”
“That’s just what I heard. Remember Kevah? Boland’s sister? Apparently she went beyond these mountains a year before the raids began. She went with a trade expedition looking to open new routes with the eastern tribes.”
“Whatever happened to her? She ever return to the Claim like she was supposed to?”
“No. Her band of freebooters were raided last year as they were trying to meet up with the group led by Dervahl. She was killed, along with six others. Rest went to Sunfall. She got lucky.”
For ten long, bloody years the Carja had slaughtered thousands in their Sun-Rings, claiming it was to appease their precious Sun, not that the reasons mattered to anyone. In truth it was needless bloodshed ordered by a tyrant who used faith as an excuse. It wasn’t always the case. Tavim could remember a time when the Carja and Oseram traded freely with each other. But that was a long time ago. Now everyone understood it was better to die fighting the Carja than be sent to the Sun-Ring by them.
“Shame, I liked her,” Takiv noted quietly.
“Sure you did, not like you had a chance.”
“When was the last time we went home,” Tavim asked with a quiet sadness.
“Couple of years, I think. Why?”
“Just thinking about everyone we left behind. Wondering if any of them are still around.”
“Well don’t. No good thinking about the forge when the fires too hot to touch. Besides, they all know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’re keeping themselves safe.”
“Still, I’d like to visit sooner, rather than later. Just to see for myself.”
Much like fresh food and good ale, returning home was a luxury they could only very rarely afford. Most of the old routes were no longer safe thanks to Carja patrols kidnapping travellers too stupid or foolhardy to avoid them not to mention the constant raiding parties looking for new slaves to use for their mass sacrifices. There were other, more secretive routes home, but even they were too dangerous for regular travel. They were certainly too dangerous for the two brothers to simply return home whenever they liked and when they did make it back they could never stay for too long before needing to leave again. It wasn’t always like this. Tavim could remember a time when the Carja and Oseram traded freely with each other. The roads were safer back then, work was plentiful and an honest man could make his way through hard work without getting blood on his hands. The Carja always hired Oseram for their grandest ideas and paid well for the privilege. But that was a long time ago. Now everyone understood it was better to die fighting the Carja than be captured by them. The only things the two tribes traded now was blood and steal.
“Once you’re done eating get some sleep,” Tavim told his brother, “I’ll take first watch. I’ll wake you in a few hours to take over.”
“You should lay some traps for the Carja while you’re at it, if we have any left to spare.”
“We don’t. And even if we did I wouldn’t waste them here. We’ll be leaving before sunrise and I don’t want to waste time collecting them.”
“Okay, but let me set a few snares around the camp first, just in case we catch something. We could use the extra food.”
“Fine, but use three of the short wires. And no bait. We can’t spare anything else.”
The next few hours came and went without issue. Tavim wasn’t worried about the Nora, their superstitions kept them from entering Old World Ruins. It was the Carja he was more concerned about. Night raids were rare, but not rare enough to dismiss outright. The fire was kept low so the light wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Takiv set up his traps and the dropped like a hammer by the fire when he was satisfied with his work. Tavim respected his brother for his ability to hunt game with very little effort and resources, but admired him even more for the ability to fall asleep in an instant.
A figure in the distance grew closer, drawn in by the false promise of warmth offered by the firelight. He didn’t react to the biting cold hanging in the air or the strange smells of an unfamiliar land. He simply kept moving forward with a numbness only absolute pain could give to a boy. But the more he walked the more tired his body became. His mind refused to yield, to sleep was to suffer through the same nightmare time and time again. So he kept moving forward to escape the pain he’d left behind. The firelight wasn’t too far away now.
Tavim woke to the sweet scent of rabbit meat cooked over an open fire, surprisingly refreshed from his short sleep. The previous few days must have taken more out of him than he thought. Sitting up, he saw his brother leaning over the campfire tending to some food he was cooking.
“You’re finally awake,” Takiv noted as he spotted his brother wake up from his deep slumber, “I was about to wake you. It’ll be time for us to go soon.”
“Alright,” came the groggy response, “Tell me you at least got some breakfast ready.”
“One of the snares caught a rabbit while you were busy napping. Didn’t have a lot of meat, but what it did have is nearly ready, so you better get your ass up if you want some.”
Tavim got back on his feet and went to check on their supplies while waiting for the food to finish cooking. He was about to grab his pack when he spotted someone lying in the grass where the light from the campfire gave way to the early morning light. Carefully stepping back towards the campfire, he drew Takiv’s attention towards the unfamiliar figure while pulling out a dagger from its holster.
“Takiv, who’s that,” he asked with a whisper.
“Don’t know, but he was here when I took over. I thought you knew?”
“Hammer to steel you are an idiot, you should’ve told me! Is he alive?”
“Far as I know, though he’s completely out. Hasn’t got any weapons, if that’s what you’re worried about. Don’t think he’s Carja, judging by the look of him, so I didn’t think too much about it.”
Tavim stepped closer to the stranger and took a closer look at him. The boy couldn’t have been older than seventeen or eighteen years old at a push, yet his face seemed to appear older. Despite his young age his body seemed to still be recovering from a number of injuries both familiar and strange. A deep, short scar ran along his left cheek surrounded by some minor burning. There were scars around his eyes as well, too precise to be injuries and far older than the other wounds he’d suffered. Tavim was left to assume the scars had some religious or ritual meaning. No healer he’d ever known would dare cut around the eyes in such a precise manner even when removing the eyes themselves. His hands also bore injuries and scars suffered over a prolonged period. These were mostly scratches and more burns, though his left hand was missing the smallest of its four fingers. No doubt there were more scars underneath the strange clothes he wore.
That was another thing Tavim noticed about the boy. He was wearing an old fur coat, recognizably Oseram in design but one so old that it was barely holding together under its own weight. His shoes were simple and cheaply made, clearly made in a hurry then abandoned after they too began to fall apart. But underneath the antique coat and basic leather shoes the stranger had opted to wear a shirt and trousers made up of a thin blue and white material Tavim didn’t recognize. The material was far too thin to provide any sort of protection against the elements and was too foreign to made by any tribe he was familiar with.
“You’re right, he isn’t Carja. I doubt he’s even from this part of the world. I’m not sure what he is.”
“Could he have come from beyond the eastern mountains,” Takiv asked with a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Unlikely. There are cannibals and Nora exiles beyond those mountains. I doubt they’d let someone like him through unharmed, not in his condition anyway,” Tavim explained, his eyes still attempting to find something familiar about the boy, “He’s not from the west either. I’ve met both Tenakth and Utaru and he’s neither. I don’t know his tribe or if he even has one. He could be a bandit. I’ve seen them strip down their own and chase them out from time to time.”
“We should at least see if he needs help,” Takiv suggested, “Leaving him here just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“No. We already don’t have enough to get the two of us out of the Sacred Land, let alone making that far with some stranger. We need to keep moving to avoid both the Nora and the Carja.”
“Oh come on Tavim, look at him! We can’t just leave him here.”
The two brothers were backed into their own stubborn prides and refused to admit defeat. They knew both of the were right, but they only cared about being more right than the other.
“Fine,” Tavim finally gave in, “I’ll wake him up, but we need to get moving quickly.”
Tavim woke the stranger with a rough shake, causing him to jolt upright with the unexpected shock. The stranger carefully scanned the immediate area around him without saying a word, looking for a danger that wasn’t really there. The two brothers simply looked at each other with a shared look of concern as they attempted to figure out what was happening.
“Hello,” Takiv spoke first with some small degree of charm, “Nice to finally see you awake. You don’t seem particularly happy with where you are. Is everything okay?”
“No, I… just had a nightmare. Wanted to be sure I am where I thought I should be.”
“You’re not from around here, are you,” he asked politely, “Mind if I ask where you’re from?”
The stranger seemed to calm a little before continuing the conversation. He was still very much alert, however, and he kept looking around as if expecting danger to suddenly appear somewhere nearby.
“No…,” he answered carefully, “I came from the far east after my tribe was destroyed. I was hoping to find somewhere new to start again.”
“Well, you came to the wrong place for that. These days we have more endings than beginnings,” Takiv explained, “Probably a good thing we found you before someone else did. People just aren’t as friendly as they used to be. Before we go on, you have a name?”
“David, if you’re needing to know.”
“David. Strange name that. Well, I’m Takiv and that miserable old bastard over there is my older brother Tavim. Don’t mind that sour look on his face, he’s always been like that.”
Tavim simply grunted his response as he returned to the fire and began picking away at the well cooked rabbit meat, not caring about the insult casually thrown his way. The stranger wasn’t the threat he was expecting but he was still an unknown and therefore no less dangerous than someone who intended the pair harm. But for now at least it wouldn’t hurt to spend time with the boy before they parted ways. David was far more strange awake than he ever was asleep. He was permanently alert, always looking over his shoulder and jumping at random noises. He gave off the appearance of a soldier who’d seen too much but was clearly too young to have fought and yet… the scars on his body and his body language said all they needed to say. He’d been through hell to get here.
Soon enough the last of the rabbit meat vanished as the sun shined through the cracks in the Old World walls.
“It’s time for us to go,” Tavim spoke up he realized they’d overstayed their welcome.
“Hey, David, why don’t you come with us,” Takiv quickly offered, “It’d be nice to have pleasant company for a change.”
“Hey! I already told you we don’t have enough supplies for all three of us!”
David remained silent while he considered it. Somehow he knew he could trust them, that following them would be the right choice to make. But he second guessed the feeling. He didn’t know them, not enough to know for sure if he could trust them. But the feeling was one he had been all too familiar with and he had learned to trust it when it came to making choices.
“Okay. I’ll come with you,” he agreed with a forced smile, “It’ll be nice having some company for a change.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Tavim sighed in defeat, “But we’ll need to gather what supplies we can along the way, even if that means looting it. That okay with you?”
“No problem,” David agreed, “Not like any of us have a choice.”