Gauntlet - Part 1
Part one of Gauntlet, up for public review/flame! Woot!
Hey everyone! This is my first upload here on SF, so I figure a little background couldn't hurt. I've been writing for a few years, and I just started toying with the idea of anthro characters a few months ago. If things work out, I'm considering (after quite a bit of feedback from people here and elsewhere :)) self-publishing this on Amazon and seeing what kind of reception it gets. Anyway, that's about all I've got. Enjoy the first chapter, and please let me know what you think!
The northern tribes have a saying. "He who seeks the face of all seven gods only sees six." To most it doesn't mean a thing, and if I'm honest it doesn't hold much significance for me either. But there is wisdom in those words. Their seven gods of sun, earth, water, sky, fire, life, and death control every aspect of their lives from the moment they're born until they breathe their last. I don't believe in their gods, but their little proverb has some truth to it.
"He who seeks the face of all seven gods only sees six."
And like most things in life, it's the things we never see that are the most dangerous. Death is everywhere; it always has, and it always will be. There's no escape, but before it comes to take you there's an important question to answer: What will you have done with the time given to you?
This is a story of what I've done with what I've been given.
I felt a single raindrop land on my muzzle and instinctively looked up, right in time for another one to land square between my eyes. The skies over the vegetable fields had been gray for some time, and they had finally decided to drop their contents straight onto my head. I had time to curse under my breath and pick up my tools, jogging as the rain began to pour from the sky. My paws were already squishing in mud by the time I reached the hut door, hurriedly wiping the dirt from my extremities and putting the shovel and rake back into the nearby barrel. A wonderful heat met me when I got inside, radiating from the candles spaced about the cozy room, as well as the fireplace roaring against one wall.
The small flames cast huge shadows as I shut the door and patted myself dry, wincing as a sharp voice came from the rocking chair in one corner. "Make sure to dry your tail, young man! I won't have you tracking mud in here with that!"
I sighed under my breath and grabbed an already dirty cloth. "Yes, auntie."
Aunt Rebecca turned around in her chair to look at me severely, but I could see the hint of mirth that was always playing in her eyes. She was human; which would normally be a pretty arbitrary fact, except for the fact that I was a raccoon. I stood just slightly shorter than most men, with the characteristic striped face and tail. My sister, who now came bounding out of our bedroom with her enormous smile and glittering eyes, was the same, albeit a year younger. To a human a year was of little consequence, but to us, it was a completely different age. She was still much like a child.
"Auntie, auntie! What's for dinner? I'm starving!" Elizabeth jumped into Rebecca's lap, swishing her tail back and forth. "Ooh, is Aeryn in trouble? What'd he do now?"
I ruffled her headfur affectionately, stepping over to the fireplace to check on the stew. "Answer to the first question..." I sniffed deeply, allowing my brain to pick apart the scents like pieces to a puzzle. "Smells like leek and potato soup, with a little parsley thrown in. As for the second question, no I'm not. Auntie just doesn't like ring-tails."
If Aunt Rebecca hadn't known that I was joking, the comment would have wounded her severely. Since my parents had died when I was just a year old, with a newborn Elizabeth toddling alongside, Rebecca had seen to it that we were treated as her own children. I had asked her more than once why a human was raising two raccoon kits, but she just smiled sadly and said that she had been good friends with our parents. I left it at that. But she loved us like any parent would, sometimes even more. True, I worked her small field of produce, but that was simply because Rebecca was getting too weak in her advanced age to do it herself. She had said multiple times that when we felt it was time, we were free to leave and pursue our dreams.
But I knew that I couldn't leave, not with her and Liz to take care of. Once Liz was old enough, and Auntie had either passed on or found somewhere else to live, I needed to be there. So that night, like so many before it, we sat down at the dinner table and held eachothers' paws (or hands) and Auntie said grace over the food.
I had no idea what the words meant at the time. I had heard of some tribes and cultures having small rituals before big meals, but she did this every meal. Once, I asked her where she had learned it or where they came from, and she just smiled in that strangely melancholy way and patted me on the shoulder. "One day you'll learn, my boy. I promise." I had left it at that. So we bowed our heads and listened as Auntie finished.
"...we are thankful for this meal and the life it gives us."
One time, the sentences had flowed uninterrupted and without error, but those days were long gone. It seemed that every year, auntie forgot one more word. I could hardly remember when she could recite it all, as it was years before. She always seemed sad afterwards, like she had lost something important. But tonight wasn't the night for more questions, so I just dug in and tried my best not to smear my whiskers. Liz would tear into her food unless Auntie stopped her, which was most of the time. She was slowly learning her manners, and it took more than a few raps on the paw with a wooden spoon to get the point across.
We were halfway through the meal when Auntie cleared her throat and looked at me. "Aeryn, I need a favor from you. The traders are arriving in town tomorrow and I need a few things. Would you be willing to go for me, and take your sister along?"
Liz squealed with joy, and I could hardly contain my own excitement. It had been ages since Auntie had taken us into the town that rested in a gulley some six miles to the southeast. In truth it was little more than a village made of one stone building and some thatched huts, but to my sister and I it was the biggest gathering of people we could hope to see. Once a year the trading caravans came through Farthorn, our region of the western lands to sell their wares and services on their way to Denisport, the largest city on our side of the mountains. It was at least a week's travel from our little farm, and the weather was often non-cooperative. So we were happy to make the journey to our little town of Pine.
Despite my joy I feigned a casual attitude. "I could do that for you, Auntie. So long as Liz behaves." I shot her a glance of mock sternness. She just giggled happily.
Auntie smiled. "Good, I'm glad to know I can count on you. You'll need to get an early start, though, so right to bed after dinner. Understood?"
We both agreed and were in our beds before true dark had fallen. I sighed and smiled a little to myself, glad that I was finally being trusted with an important job. Even as I drifted off, thoughts of adventure flooded my head.
A stiff autumn wind blew as we set off the next morning, blowing the last remnants of the storm just to the east. But we still bundled ourselves against the cold, donning layers of wool and linen. I took the list of things to buy from Auntie, made sure the pack strapped across my shoulders was secure, herded Liz into something resembling control, and set off.
The path normally followed the fields of our neighboring farmers, but as we pressed on the orderly pastures soon gave way to dense woodland. A robin chirped somewhere in the misty dawn as we kept walking. For some odd reason I had always felt at home in times like these, when the dim morning light was just beginning to cut through the fog and the woods were just beginning to stir.
Liz held tight onto my hand as we kept going. She glanced around fretfully, worried at what the shadowy trees might be hiding. "A-Aeryn, do you think...there's monsters here? Goblins and stuff like that?"
I laughed gently, reaching down to pat her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, sis. There's nothing here besides us and the birds."
She seemed to accept my answer, though her paw remained tightly grasped around mine. I just smiled and kept walking, breathing in the scents of the morning woodland. There was the damp, moist earth; ever-present in my mind. Then there was the crispness of fallen pine needles, and the dead leaves coating the freshly-watered ground. I took as much in as possible, savoring them deeply.
The weather improved slightly as we kept on, the clouds turning soft and thin as the drizzle began to taper off. By the time the forest began to thin out around us, replaced by tilled ground and the occasional rocky outcropping on the nearby hills, the sun was just beginning to poke through. Liz was grateful to see the light, but if truth be told I always felt at home with a little rain.
It was midday by the time we rounded a bend and encountered a steep slope, leading down into the valley where the town sat. It was flanked on either side by massive hills, closer to mountains almost, and with the smoke from dozens of cooking fires hanging above the thatched roofs. The road twisted slightly to our left as it descended, and then turned back again to go around a small lake. Liz clapped her paws in excitement. "There it is, Aeryn! We're almost there!"
I had to catch her by the scruff of the neck to stop her from running full-tilt down the road. "Woah, sis! Take it easy, I won't have you coming back to Auntie with a broken ankle."
She stuck her tongue out at me. "I'll be fine, you big ninny. Now come on, I don't want to miss anything!"
I kept pace with my sister as we made it down the slope, passing the first signs of civilization as we did. There was half a wagon wheel someone had left after it had broken, a poorly-written sign telling people to stay off someone's land, and a few signs pointing the way. I kept a close eye on Liz as she raced down the road and tried to keep an eye on my own footing. The path might have been well-used, but it was far from well-made. More than once I almost tripped and would have landed square on my face if I hadn't reacted quickly enough. Finally I reached a more level bit, Liz already fifty paces ahead. I called out to her, making sure she was close by before continuing on. "I want you to stay close when we get inside the village," I said in a tone that hardly left any doubt if I was being serious or not. "There's bad folk out there, and they'd like nothing more than to kidnap someone like you."
She nodded understandingly. "I'll stay close, I promise."
We finally made it to the outer edges of the town, where we were met by two men armed with spears and wearing matching tunics of checkered red and gold. One of them had a massive beard he had twisted and braided into ropes that fell down to his chest, and an angry expression in his flinty eyes. "Whaddya two mongrels want, eh?"
Liz was petrified, and she clung tightly to my legs as I tried to keep a level tone past the fear in my throat. "We're just looking to trade, that's it."
The other man, who had a pair of squinty eyes and face that looked as if it had been chipped out of a piece of granite, sized us up and smiled maliciously. "Might be able t' score a few coin fer their pelts at the market, whatch'a think?"
I moved so Liz was standing behind me, doing my best to appear taller, older, and tougher. "Look, we don't want any trouble. We just need some things and we'll be gone before dark, I..."
The bearded one laughed, sounding like he was gargling rocks. "No trouble, he says!" He leaned down, prodding me in the chest with his spear. I took an involuntary step back. "Your type ain't nothin' but trouble, vermin!" He seemed ready to do more when both of them noticed a set of travelers coming down the path, and the bearded man grunted. "Fine," he spat, glaring at both of us. "But if either o' you causes any problems, I'll skin ye alive and sell your pelt to the highest bidder."
I mumbled something akin to a "thanks" and rushed past, keeping Liz close. When we were past the guards I looked down and noticed her crying quietly. Without a word, I stopped by the side of the path and knelt in front of her, wiping a tear away with my thumb. "Hey, what's the matter?"
She sniffed, wiping her eyes. "They hate us here. We should just go."
She looked on the verge of tears again as I hugged her briefly. "No, they don't." I kissed the top of her head, talking quietly into her ear. "They just don't know who we are, and they're scared. Aren't you a little shy around strangers?"
She gave me a shaky nod. "A...a little."
I smiled and tilted her chin up with my paw. "Well, it's like that. They're just a little mean, is all. Look, just stay close and I'll keep you safe, I promise."
She managed a small smile and hugged me again. "Thanks, Aeryn."
I stood back up and took her paw again, walking past some carts where the traders were hawking their bits of silver, gold, ivory, and gems. Aunt Rebecca had taught me already that our kind was often looked down on, and today was just another example of that prejudice. Many people couldn't tell or didn't bother to notice the differences between us and the ferals, the animals that lived in the woods, walked on all four paws, and had remained unchanged for eons. That was yet another inquiry I had of Auntie: Why could our folk walk, talk, eat, and act like everyone else while the ferals hadn't changed a bit? That earned another one of her sad smiles and a few moments of quiet before she just said, "You'll learn this in time, lad."
I noticed a few of our kind as we moved into the village. Most humans called us "striders", as if the only thing that separated us from the ferals was our ability to walk upright. Apparently having feelings, the capacity for rational thought, or the ability to speak didn't count. Mostly, however, we were called "vermin", "animals", "beasts", or "creatures". I heard someone call me "stripe-face" once, which was a nice display of creativity on their part.
I tried to not let the aggravation show on my face as I led Elizabeth by the paw towards the center of the village, where most of the traders had gathered. She still clung to me tightly, but couldn't help but let the wonder show on her face. The last time she had seen the village, Liz had been very young, just learning to speak. Now, it was an entirely new world for her. A man with a long, dyed moustache held up a set of oversized oranges and juggled them in an attempt to gain some attention from passersby. An elf, one of the few I'd seen in my lifetime, was throwing knives into a block of wood to prove their sharpness to a skeptical customer. I flinched as a woman held a torch close to her face and spat out a stream of liquid, which quickly turned to a jet of flame.
My mind was struggling to keep up with the flurry of sights, smells, and sounds, while at the same time trying to keep Liz from running off. My eyes and nose, which tended to provide me with much greater detail than the rest of my senses, were working hard to provide me with an adequate survey of my surroundings. I was temporarily distracted by a flurry of multi-colored fabrics as they were spun and twirled, making me bump into a man walking by. He swatted at me, a look of something akin to disgust crossing his features. "Get out of here, you filthy mongrel!"
I quickly backed away, pulling Liz with me. I pulled the list Auntie had given us out of my pocket and scanned over it quickly, deciding which items should be purchased now and which could be put off until later. We started moving about the crowds with everyone else, making our way to each cart until my satchel was full. Trying not to fall over with the weight of a dozen lemons, a new trowel, a shovel-head, and half a score of other items, I checked the sun's position through the clouds. It was still early, and I knew that we had some time before it would be necessary to leave for home.
Feeling a couple of extra coins jingling in my pocket, I noticed a stall where a foreign woman was selling dolls made of cloth and string. Knowing that Liz hadn't had a toy to truly call her own in some time, I casually strode closer to the cart while she was still lost in the scenery around us. She was hardly aware of what I was doing until she heard the coins falling into the woman's hand, and we were walking away. "What did you buy? I thought we had finished with Auntie's list."
I ruffled her ears and pulled her off of the main pathway, under an empty building's overhang. Kneeling down in front of her, I grinned and rooted around in the pack. "Close your eyes and hold out your paws. And no peeking!"
She giggled a bit and did as I asked, not opening her eyes until she felt the doll, modeled after a mouse with a short tail and auburn hair, rested in her paws. She grinned so widely I thought she would hurt her mouth, squealing with joy and hopping up and down for a moment before wrapping me in a tight hug. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you Aeryn! She's...she's perfect! I've never had a dolly before!"
I laughed and rubbed her ears again as she embraced the cloth figurine. "Well, you have one now. Just promise me that you'll take care of her, alright?"
Liz nodded enthusiastically, still hugging the doll like she would never let go. "I promise I will! I'll comb her hair and clean her clothes every day. Ooh, maybe I could make her a new skirt! Auntie could help me, and we'd..."
My ears twitched as a strange sound echoed from up the hill. I turned to look up the path, about two hundred paces to where a cloud of dust was beginning to rise. Even from this distance, my eyes were able to pick out the shapes of riders mounted on galloping horses. I put a hand out to keep Liz from wandering out into the road. "Wait a minute, sis. Something's up."
As the rest of the townsfolk heard the approaching horsemen, almost half a minute after I had, they hurriedly cleared the road. I put a paw up to shield my eyes from the dust as they passed, gradually slowing their mounts to a slow trot. Horses were a strange breed, all their own. While it was known that there were a few who were striders, the overwhelming majority had remained on all four hooves even after generations of trying to breed them out of their "feral" nature, but to mostly no avail. So they were still used as transport by many races, though I had learned that our race had a harder time doing so because of our different body structures. Rebecca had told me that "hunter" types, like wolves and foxes, had even more difficulty since the horses could smell their scent and perceived them as threats. This, she said, lead to either a skittish horse or a thrown rider.
But it was humans who were mounted on the horses, all of them clad in armor and carrying weapons. My instincts flared for a moment as I thought at first that they were invaders, coming to ransack and burn the village. But no one else seemed to be panicking so I forced the anxiety down and just watched as they rallied in the center of the village. One man, with a chest built like an ale barrel and balding head, stood on a small pile of stones so that he could be seen above the small crowd. Without a word, he produced a piece of parchment and unfolded it, clearing his rasping voice as he read aloud.
"In accordance with the royal decrees of King Darius, recognized in the eyes of the high priestess and council, this region of Farthorn, from the borders of Tomasal to the south, Dagpoint in the west, Winder in the north, and to the Opal Sea in the east are under his rule effective immediately. All living within these boundaries are hereby placed under his royal protection and rule. As such, taxation will begin at the rising of the next half-moon..."
Whatever words that followed were drowned out by the crowd's uproar. I felt Liz hold my paw a little tighter as it reached a cacophony. Most of it was just angry yelling and waving fists, but a few words managed to break through the dull roar.
"We were promised our freedom after the last war, not more tyranny!"
"Ye lyin' sacks o' shit! I gave everythin' fer that turd's father, and I want t' be left in peace!"
"Darius doesn't have rule here, and we answer only to the elders!"
I was utterly confused. Wars? Tyranny? What were they talking about? I had been vaguely aware that a king ruled in the lands neighboring ours, but Rebecca had spared me most of the details. In the end, she had told me, things had worked themselves out and we were free to rule ourselves how we saw fit. Mostly that came down to individual chieftains leading their clans or, like this village, a small group of elders that made decisions. Farthorn was sparsely populated, much of it too cold or hilly to be of any real use.
The bald man hardly seemed phased, even as the crowd seemed ready to tear him to shreds. When the noise had died to a buzzing murmur, he spoke again as if he had never been interrupted. "King Darius appreciates your understanding in the trying times to come. We will be returning in a fortnight to gather recruits for the militia and instruct them."
The crowd, which looked as if it were about to riot, suddenly went dead-silent and parted ways as a hunched-back old man stepped forward. With a gray, wispy beard that fell almost to his knees and milky eyes that looked like they had gone blind years before, I thought that he had simply lost his way and stumbled into the chaos. He kept on moving, though, leaning heavily on his twisted wooden cane. But as people bowed their heads as he passed, I realized something with a shock: He was one of the elders. Stopping in front of the soldier, at least that's what I assumed he was, the decrepit man looked up with a steely expression. "You say that King Darius claims these lands?" His voice was thin and wheezing slightly, but there was an odd strength to his tone.
The bald man suppressed a laugh, his palm falling against his sword pommel. I noticed the subtle movement and my heart thumped loudly. "That's what I said, old one."
The elder just nodded slowly, almost sadly. "I see. That is a shame."
"And why is that?" Sneering, the soldier spat into the dirt.
Drawing himself up to full height, which was still half a head shorter than his adversary, the elder spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear him. "Because these are sovereign lands, belonging to no one besides the people living here. I speak on their behalf, and have for many years. Heed my words, and be gone. Tell this King Darius to leave Farthorn and its citizens be."
His hand slowly gripping the sword's hilt, the soldier's eyes darkened. "Are you refusing to follow your ruler's direct orders?"
The elder just nodded, the last defiant act of a man already dead.
I hardly had time to cover Liz's eyes as the man drew his blade and struck in one savage motion, watching as the blade fell onto the man's shoulder to cleave his chest cavity nearly in two. Almost retching at the sound of snapping bones and the sharp odor of fresh blood and offal, I was rooted to the ground with shock as the soldier yanked his sword free with a sickening lurch.
The elder swayed on his feet, blood pouring down his chest in a waterfall of scarlet. He managed one short cough, red spurting from his lips before he collapsed face-first onto the dirt. There was a moment of silence as the crowd looked on in shock, and that split second was all that the armed men needed. In seconds they were hefting leaf-bladed spears, daring anyone to make a hostile movement. Instead they shuffled their feet nervously, a few weeping openly while others glared at the soldiers with raw hatred. The bald man climbed back on his horse, who was shifting nervously at the smell of blood. He kept his sword drawn as they began to ride out, pausing at the town's edge to look back over his shoulder and yell. "Two weeks!"
And with that, they were gone.