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ORIGINAL DRAFT - PRE-EDITING

This story was written as part of the 2016 National Novel Writing Month. It was written without edits between 12:01am, November 1st and 11:59pm, November 30th.

This story was written by David J Rust, aka Sylvan Scott, and is in a pre-edited state. The characters, situations, and concepts herein are property of the author and may not be distributed or altered without express, written permission.

Skylands: the Scorpion Spear, Part One - "Saeldrin", Chapter Seven: Challenges

©2016 Sylvan Scott

In all his days, even when they had been secret lovers in the year before his banishment, Rith had never seen Tephen so angry. Outwardly, he had considerable composure and self-control. But Rith knew his old friend well. He had seen the rage that he kept in check everywhere that public eyes could see. He had felt it like a fire in a coal mine: emerging with suffocating heat from hidden depths. But as the hills rumbled and tremors shook their hastily assembled camp, Tephen's fury was directed solely at Patrol Leader Lyste.

"You will listen and not interrupt," Tephen snarled. "You did not have my permission to engage! You understaffed your sniper position and did not give enough time for the pincer to move around. As such, I lost two of my patrol and was nearly drowned by a dagdarra witch!"

"I lost men, too, Lieutenant Alberson; don't forget that!" Lyste said. His teeth were bared and he loomed over the still wet and shivering Tephen like an admonishing drill sergeant.

Tephen drew himself up to his full height. "You will not speak unless I demand an answer, patrol leader: is that clear?" The lieutenant emphasized the junior ramessin's rank.

"Until Commander Nather returns, that is," Lyste spat. "If this hunt was unsuccessful, it was strictly your doing. We have never had an unsuccessful hunt in our Iron Patrol's two years of assembly!"

Rith could hear the fury in the air; he could taste the burning touch of hatred fueled by adrenaline and failure, both. So attuned was he to Tephen's moods, he knew seconds before-hand as the ramessin lieutenant lunged, gloved hands gripping Lyste by the wrists, and sending him to the icy snow in a brutal tackle. Members of both patrols took up arms and readied themselves along the snowy ledge leading deeper into the canyons.

Lyste was the larger man and younger by at least three years. His white fur was immaculate and unmarred by scar or blood. Tephen's fangs closed just beneath the man's throat but caught on his high, brass-buttoned collar.

Lyste arched his right leg, sharply bringing his knee into his attacker's abdomen.

Tephen, though, seemed to be lost in a blind fury. Perhaps the snow and tremors and winds were masking his reaction but Rith only observed him rolling with the blow.

Back onto his haunches, he hefted the bigger man up. Rolling, then, onto his back, he slid one bare, snow-covered foot against Lyste's groin and abruptly brought him up and over: sailing towards the cliffside edge. His patrol members dodged aside, watching the dispute to see who would come out on top.

Lyste stopped himself from going over the edge with deep furrows of his fingers in the icy snow. But before he could right himself, Tephen grabbed his pistol from its holster, still in the bundle of his clothes drying by a fire. He aimed and pulled back the hammer with deadly intent in his eyes.

The other man stopped.

Neither man moved: Lyste still in his outdoor fatigues and Tephen, near-naked, with only his fur and spare underclothes to protect him from the elements.

Slowly, hands raised, Lyste stood.

Tephen panted, his shivers looking more to have arisen from rage than the unexpected watery assault.

"Now, listen," he snarled. "You are helping us; you are not my rank and will behave accordingly."

"I am still commanding officer of our Patrol," Lyste said. He was clearly modulating his voice to stay calm. "We know these hills; we know them better than you ever could."

Tephen fired.

Swords were drawn and two other pistols, cocked.

Lyste closed his eyes, shuddering. The bullet had missed him by a wide margin. Rith thought it could have been Tephen's shivering that was responsible but it also could have been the ramessin's way of making a point.

"You've been in these hills for--what?--five days, now?" Tephen shouted. "You said you had to abandon Fort Pyall when the storm approached, threatening to consume it. You've not seen your commander since he ordered you and your patrol to leave. And you think he's coming back? Just how stupid are you?"

The two Iron Patrols watched and waited, tense, in the storm. The sporadic tremors had them all on edge. Periodic snow slides had forced them to retreat back up the trail the dagdarra had taken. Now, they were lost and their trail: cold.

They had communicated from afar with traditional howls. For two days they dogged the dagdarra and tracked them into the hills surrounding the canyons. It was quite by surprise as they closed in that Lyste's second, a rank-and-file patrol member named Naia Kesset, had come back from scouting a higher trail to let them know that their sniper was in position, had readied himself according to orders, and was ready to fire. The surprise action had taken Tephen off-guard. And when he confronted Lyste about it, they heard the shot.

After that, everything had erupted in bloody chaos.

"We had them out-numbered, four-to-one," Tephen said. "One of them was old and weak. Only by you trying to claim glory through immediacy rather than planning, did they escape!"

Rith wasn't sure Tephen was correctly assessing the situation.

The dagdarra were giants. Often twice a ramessin's a height, they had a strength of many soldiers in a single body. Furthermore, it was said they worshipped and, thus, did not fear death. And although they were largely calm, when stirred to action, they worked in powerful groups for mutual defense. Even had the Iron Patrols' attack been properly coordinated and executed, having seen the dagdarra trudging so casually through the snow and storm, Rith found their casual power speaking to anything but a "sure thing".

But Rith would never say that.

Certainly not when Tephen was in a mood like this.

But although he had experienced Tephen's warning shot, Lyste was not taking hint of the lieutenant's darker mood. If anything, he was treating it like a leadership challenge.

Hands raised, he walked forward with a deliberate slowness. "I have led my patrol through this storm for days," he snarled. "And you--"

"We have been traveling for twice as long, discovered the Bronze City wiped off the map, and managed to make it all the way across the tundra, here, to encounter your incompetence!"

Lyste narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice to a near-inaudible growl. "At least I'm not fucking a tethic!"

Awful words--accusations and slander--they held a terrible power. Rith knew this better than most. He had not always been a good man but the wickedness that others painted across his soul in the public eye had stuck. Those words had whittled him down during his exile. They stung and never stopped stinging. They burned in sympathy ... in a way that, he knew, now burned Tephen.

His soul ached to hear Lyste's accusation; he saw the wound it made within Tephen's expression. Although living alone, year after year, had given Rith little desire to lie with another, he had been unable to avoid the lieutenant's amorous advances as they had marched across the tundra. And he knew that Tephen's taking him into his tent, each night, had not gone unnoticed. Even the stated lie, that it was "for the tethic's protection", had not been believed. But it was plausible deniability. The Iron Patrol had been able to turn a blind eye to the infraction as long as there was no direct proof or accusation. Upon joining the other patrol, however, that secrecy had been broken. It had not gone unnoticed and, without the same loyalty that Tephen's men had, Lyste and the rest of his patrol felt no obligation to keep that secret. And, in truth, it was an accusation of truth. Lyste dragged the hidden accusations into the open.

A strained and pained roar erupted from Tephen's throat. It seemed born of both howling denial and anguished shame. It hurt to hear not only because it embodied all of Tephen's shame but also because it laid bare the lie behind the lieutenant's advances. Rith, fractured as the years had made him, had almost come to think that Tephen's touch was a balm and, perhaps, a sign for a positive future.

His rage shattered that illusion. Rith felt, not for the first time, that he was a threat and that, morally, he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be in the same world as righteous people. He deserved to be shunned and apart. He deserved to carry acrimony with him until the day he died.

Through tears, he watched the fight. There, in the swirling snow, he saw her again. Standing in the air, as if upon solid snow, stood the raven in her tattered robes. She watched the conflict with shining, black eyes. Her winged arm rose as she pointed towards Rith. He felt the weight of that gesture and the force behind it.

Once again, he wished he had never travelled south in search of the storm.

But he couldn't run. He could only watch.

Lyste had probably been expecting something but not Tephen throwing his gun aside amidst a charge. He burst from what remained of his clothing and shifted, in a flash, into his large, wolven form. White against white, fur against snow, he slammed into Lyste and slammed him to the ground. His teeth bit deep, piercing the surprised man's collar and thick, furred hide. Drops of red blossomed against the white storm.

Snarling, Lyste forced his body to change. Rolling--again, close to the edge of the ledge--he slipped away: metal fastenings and weaponry being scattered in his wake. Tephen leaped after him but Lyste managed to shift back and kicked the lieutenant in the side, sending him sprawling.

A gunshot rang out in the howling storm. Lyste didn't stop at first but a second shot brought him to a halt just as Tephen got up, shifting back to ramessin form. Both turned in the direction of the shooter.

Rith looked up at the source of the shots.

Naia stood above them on a snow- and wind-swept ridge. Her gun was aimed to the dark sky as firelight from the ramessin camp lit her, from below.

"Lieutenant Alberson. Patrol Leader Baelhurst. Respectfully, sirs, your patrols need your attention." She holstered her pistol and turned to walk along the higher ridge until it joined with their lower trail.

Her calm demeanor swept over Rith. He didn't know if it was a form of magic or merely the bursting of tension's bubble following the challenge. It felt surreal and, in her wake, Rith lost track of the Hand of Ishmar. Again, the raven woman had vanished.

"Lieutenant," Naia continued, "our acting commander sent me to reconnoiter the high paths in an effort to find a trace of our prey. Truthfully, he should have consulted with you, first." She walked down to join them. Her high boots sunk deep into the snow and her heavy coat of muted, deep blue, showed a stark contrast to her white fur and yellow eyes. "But rest assured, he considers you our leader, now, and I have returned to give you my report."

Rith, along with all the rest, turned their ears and eyes to Tephen.

The lieutenant stood knee-deep in snow, naked and enraged, but calming himself as Lyste's blood stained his chest and chin. He glared from Naia to Lyste but seemed to let his anger falter. Rith felt his focus crystalize. It rarely did and it wasn't often it did so to acknowledge social cues. But Naia's confident and calm interruption was clear. She was giving both men a way out of their duel.

Lyste, his tail dropping by degrees, bowed towards Tephen. He pressed his palm to the side of his neck where he was still bleeding from his opponent's teeth. They had missed the jugular by a finger's breadth.

"Aye," he confirmed. "Naia: tend ... tend to my injuries. They were ... ill-acquired." He looked Tephen in the eyes for only a moment before dropping his gaze. "Lieutenant, I apologize. It was my weakness that made me challenge you. I withdraw my insults and fabrications." He panted and let his ears droop but even Rith could tell he was saving face. There was still blood between them.

Tephen looked from the patrol leader to the Iron Patrol members surrounding them, both. His own patrol outnumbered theirs by half. But infighting would not help them, now. Rith hoped Tephen understood that. Every second he spent just panting and considering his next action undermined his authority.

But Tephen, ever the popular one, snarled and waved the back of his hand towards his opponent. "I accept your apology. We are in dire enough straights without disputes to weaken our resolve." He turned to look up the slope to Naia. "What is your rank, patroller?" he called.

"None, sir; I am a tracker - not yet commissioned."

Tephen nodded. "As Lieutenant, I give you the acting rank of patrol leader - equal to Patrol Leader Lyste Baelhurst." He waved absently from her to Lyste. "Tend to him then report to me." He addressed the rest of the troops. "Make yourselves warm but do not finish setting camp. We may be leaving, soon." With that, he beckoned one of his patrol over. "Take Rith into protection; put him in my tent and wait for me there."

The woman he had called saluted and, without a word, grabbed Rith by the shoulder and led him into Tephen's tent. The ground shook with another tremor. In the distance, beyond the canvas tent walls, Rith could hear Tephen shouting further orders. "And some of you get up there to the upper ridge; clear that snow before it falls on us!"

The inside of Tephen's tent was spartan and dry. A hissing calmorphene lamp burned providing low light but copious warmth. The patrol woman who had guided him pushed him towards a camp chair near the center pole. "Sit," she said.

"Thank you," Rith answered.

She didn't answer. She just shook her head and, after a moment, began to pace.

Less than five minutes passed until Tephen entered. He tossed his possessions--his gun and tattered, wet clothing, on a collapsible, wooden rack to continue drying.

"Leader Margen," he said to Rith's guard, "thank you."

"You are welcome, lieutenant."

He paused for a moment, in contemplation. "I have a task for you," he began. "This other Iron Patrol; they have seen hard times ... lost their commander. They are closer than ever but have had their chain of command shattered. They must be brought around to working within our number. Take six bottles from my personal larder and pass them around. We will drink to our coming ventures, together."

She saluted as she had when he had thanked her and went, immediately, to retrieve the wine he had indicated.

Rith didn't know what to say or do, so he sat in the chair and just stared at his feet.

"You: tethic," Tephen said, "come: tend to my injuries." When Rith did not immediately move, Tephen cast a short glance at Margen before adding, "Be quick about it." Right jumped up at the sharper tone and immediately went to guide Tephen to the chair.

As Margen finished finding the bottles and bundling them in a pack to take to the troops, Rith fetched a thick robe and another lamp. Margen left without a look back. Tephen closed his eyes.

Rith counted, silently.

When he reached ten, Tephen stood and, brusquely, kissed Rith. Rith stood as if paralyzed, one hand still holding the spare lamp while the other held a stoppered ceramic pot that held more calmorphene oil. He stiffened when Tephen gripped him, firmly, between the legs. He stifled a whimper and tried not to react.

"Those motherless dogs." He snarled and withdrew his embrace. "They'll wear their respect for me or they'll wear their own blood." He frowned and sat down, wrapping the heavy robe around him. He did not move for a long while and Rith did not know what to do.

"Where are you ... still injured?" He ventured to go fetch the first aid satchel in the corner.

Tephen frowned. "You think me weak?"

Rith shook his head emphatically. "No! Not at all," he said. "But you ordered me to tend to you..."

The lieutenant's gaze hardened for a moment and, then, he nodded. "It was a ruse; that is all. I have no injury requiring bandages or stitches."

Rith nodded and stood where he was.

Neither moved for more than ten minutes. Outside, the wind howled and with a mournful edge. Another half-dozen shudders from momentary tremors shook the tent. Rith was about to speak when Naia's voice came from the outside.

"Sir: may I enter?"

"Come," Tephen said.

The canvas flaps pulled aside and the blue-clad ramessin patrol leader entered. She stopped next to Rith and saluted Tephen.

"At ease," Tephen said. In a quieter tone, he added, "and thank you."

She nodded, curtly, without a word. She had given him a graceful exit to the challenge. Nothing more needed be said. "I found their trail, sir."

Tephen nodded. "How far?"

"Hard to say with great certainty, sir, but I'd guess they have been moving at least ten miles per hour based upon depth and spray from their tracks."

"Damn hoof-meat," he muttered. "Trust to a giant to have such a gait and so little respect for the natural order of things."

Rith thought that by "natural order of things" he meant the storm that slowed the Iron Patrols to a near stand-still while the dagdarra seemed to pass through it with ease.

"I located the body of one," she said. "If you like, I can dispatch four patrol members to dig it up so we can have meat, tonight."

Tephen nodded and rose from his chair. He didn't seem to acknowledge any of his injuries despite them being rather obvious. He slid his robe from his shoulders and tossed it for Rith to catch. Then, he went and withdrew his fur-lined, brass buttoned uniform from a pack. "A good idea," he said.

Contemplatively, he dressed. He fastened his high collar with a silver chain and donned dagdarra fur-lined gloves once he put on a spare pair of heavy, winter boots. When finished, he pulled a heavy, winter-ready cloak around his shoulders.

"Patrol Leader..."

"Naia," she supplied. "Naia Kesset."

Patrol Leader Naia," he continued, "have you any thoughts on where our quarry are heading?"

She nodded. "Into the Alapak Canyons. There is a dagdarra settlement above them but their tracks lead down towards the flatlands south of the Dead Hills rather than up to the village."

"In confidence," he said, "I am not sure this hunt is well-advised." He raised his eyes to connect with her gaze. She did not look away. "If Pyall is gone, our hunt helps no one but ourselves. My goal was to reconnect with a ramessin settlement in this part of the Saeldrin continent."

She nodded. "We have heard nothing since mid-winter's, sir."

"From anyone?"

She nodded. "This far west, it's to be expected, sir. There are a two villages on the far, western shore--Hassaine and Cullport--but those are beyond that wall of clouds. Most contact we have is either with the savages or with various Iron Patrols from the east and south."

He nodded. "I always said we should push the dagdarra from the west into the interior." He shook his head, a frustrated expression on his muzzle. "Saeldrin surrounds the north pole and yet we only control an outer rim along the east. Now, when we need support the most, we're stuck."

Rith wanted to suggest they approach the dagdarra; go to them under a banner of truce. But he knew what Tephen's response would be. Food was scarce and the dagdarra neither kept nor ate meat. There could be no truce.

"We could attempt an assault on the dagdarra settlement," Naia continued, "but they are well-defended. They also know nothing of our forces from Fort Pyall."

Tephen nodded. "We need food but not at the expense of any more lives." He pondered for a while afterwards before adding, "And we would be best served by reaching a settlement where we can have shelter from these damnable storms."

For the first time, Naia looked uncomfortable. "With all due respect sir, may I ask a question?"

He looked her up and down, nodding as he did so. "Proceed."

She gestured to Rith. "What of him? I've heard some of the patrol saying this is his doing; that his accursed nature has called the storm to us."

"No. Rith is not responsible." He banished her argument with a wave of his hand. "There are dozens of tethic in Saeldrin, alone, let alone in the rest of the civilized world to the south."

"But what, then, has caused--?"

"I don't know," he interrupted. "For all I know, the gods are furious with the dagdarra and sent the storm to wipe them from the map. In which case, we should be thankful and hunker down until it passes!"

She nodded and stood straight, again.

Tephen snorted and strode to the tent flaps. "You go give the orders to your patrol to find and bring back that hoof-meat carcass. I need to tell others to settle in for the foreseeable future."

He left and Rith felt a shadow and weight lift from him.

When he looked back from the tent's exit, he found Naia's eyes upon him.

"What's so special about you?" she asked.

Rith averted his gaze to his feet and let his shoulders slump. "I ... I'm not sure what you mean, m'am."

"Just what I said," she said. She stepped closer. "What's so special about you that the lieutenant would keep you safe as if you were one of his own patrol members?"

Rith felt acute embarrassment. He pointed at the mark on his forehead. "Well, I am tethic."

"Most just kill your kind on sight," she said. "Why doesn't the lieutenant?"

Rith shrugged. "He's ... religious?" he suggested.

Naia nodded. "There are a lot of that type on this continent," she confirmed. "My parents and siblings, for instance."

He looked up at her. He almost asked a question but decided to let it die on his lips. She caught something from his expression and guessed it anyway.

"Oh, so am I," she continued. "I've seen dagdarra magic. It isn't that far of a stretch from that to realizing it must come from somewhere. What better place than the gods?"

"That's ... what I came to think," he said. He quickly appended, "during my exile."

"But I don't think," she said, coming closer, "that all of the trappings and trimmings of written faith are to be taken literally. Take this, for instance." She was close enough to touch. And, as she spoke, she reached out and did the unthinkable.

She touched his mark.

He cringed and pulled into himself. "Stop!" he said, before even really thinking about why.

"It's not going to hurt me," she said. "I think the only one such patches hurt are the people born with them." She stepped even closer and, despite him still cringing, ran her finger along the mark's contours. "Some dagdarra have these marks, too, you know."

Rith blinked and looked surprised. "They do?"

Naia nodded. "I've seen only one but our patrols have spotted others like them from afar. Some say it's a sign that they're accursed and damned, too."

"But you do not?"

She shook her head. "You're small; weak. I'm of the thinking that perhaps the mark in your fur comes along with your small stature and says nothing about how the gods view you. The dagdarra don't seem to shun or exile those with the tethic mark. And they don't show sign of being accursed."

Rith swallowed, nervously. The last person to touch his mark was his mother. He didn't remember it but his father told him that, after his birth, she had covered it with dye for over two years until it was discovered. After that, not only did people not want to touch his mark, they didn't want to touch him.

Except for Tephen.

"Then ... why?"

She shrugged. "Were that I knew," she said. "It probably means nothing. But it's clear that your lieutenant believes it may be the cause. He's keeping you, close, despite his religious beliefs ... not because of them. Sure, the only person supposedly able to strike down a tethic is one whom the tethic begs to kill him. To do otherwise would draw unluck and calamity. But in the real world, tethic are killed against their will all the time. And for much less infractions than being a burden."

Rith didn't know what to say. A thousand voices whispered in his head and not all of them were kind.

Some shouts came from outside the tent. It sounded like an argument between patrol members of the two Iron Patrols. Naia looked towards the flaps and turned to go. "I have orders to follow and freezing meat to dig up," she said. "Whatever the reason the lieutenant has for keeping close, I don't for a minute believe he was fucking you." She stepped out into the storm but turned at the last moment. "But if he is, I strongly recommend you tell him to stop it until we find a friendly settlement."

And with that pronouncement still hanging in the frigid air, she was gone.

The raven, too, had vanished.

Rith was alone.

He didn't notice the flow of time but more than an hour's worth of oil was burned by the time Tephen returned. In that time, Rith had not done much but think about Naia's words. They chilled as much as challenged him. Tephen hung his cloak on an outer tent pole peg. Moments, later, his caress was on Rith's cheek.

Rith pulled back.

Tephen gripped Rith's chin and forced his gaze. Their eyes met, golden to green, and Rith couldn't pull away.

"We ... shouldn't," Rith stammered. "The patrol; they're talking--"

"Not any more," Tephen said.

Rith tried to pull away again. Tephen's anger flowed through his white, wolven face like a stroke a lightning. In an instant Rith found himself thrown onto Tephen's cot, knocking it down. Rith was used to pain so he didn't wince. But he felt it harder, this time, than most. It was different than all the punches and abuse he had taken wandering from small ramessin settlement to small ramessin settlement during his exile. It hurt more when it came from Tephen.

"Please: I don't want them to hurt you because of me."

Tephen laughed. It was cold and mirthless. "As if they could," he snarled. He bent down beside Rith and grabbed him under the muzzle, again. His fingers gripped the smaller wolf's chin like ice-covered stone. "We'll be moving on, shortly, anyway," he said.

Rith blinked. "But ... but I thought you said we were staying put."

Tephen looked away, a snarl forming in his throat. "Our patrol has started to think we need more meat. I've got Patrol Leader Naia retrieving some but we'll need more, soon."

"Can't we weather the storm, here?" Rith asked.

He didn't even see the motion as Tephen smacked him across his face. The fury-filled eyes of the lieutenant filled Rith's field of vision. "Are you questioning my right to command?" he demanded. "Because, if you are, think again. You wouldn't last a tenth of the time that Lyste did!"

The close embrace persisted. Fear grew in Rith's chest. It paralyzed him. Quickly, he nodded his assent.

Tephen used him and finished, quickly.

Afterwards, he rose and ordered Rith to organize the tent for travel. "We'll eat quickly once Naia is back. We have to catch those hoof-meat, soon, or find other prey. Once we have enough meat, we'll head back east away from all this ... insanity. It's what we must do; you know that, right?"

Rith nodded, dully.

He didn't cry but neither did he feel safe once the lieutenant had left. He simply rose and began cleaning and packing Tephen's belongings. When he had finished, he sat in the chair and listened to the members of the merged Iron Patrols drinking and carousing, outside. He smelled charring meat but it did not make him salivate. He just sat as the last of the oil burned from the lamp and cold darkness surrounded him.

"We break camp in an hour," he heard Tephen shout. "And, then, if needs be we will pursue our prey to the ends of the world!"

His words sounded more like prophesy to Rith than any he had ever, before, heard.