- Ar'ox -

“Are you sure about this?”

I glance behind me. Hen'ex is standing there, leaning forward and looking down into the gorge. It's a classic mistake, because now he knows that he'll die if he falls down there.

“Just jump,” I say, a little impatiently. “It's no further than over the creek back at the village. You can make that jump without problems. I've seen it.”

He's still looking down, and now he's taking a slow, uncertain step back, away from the drop. “Yes, yes. Of course I can do this. Easily. I was just thinking, it'll be getting dark soon. And probably this find of yours has nothing at all to do with the Ancestors. I've reflected on it while we have been walking. I know I said something else earlier, but now I'm convinced it's of no significance. Let's return to the village.”

He's afraid of making the jump across the gorge. He shouldn't have looked down, he should just have followed me and gone easily over it. It's actually not a long jump, but to his mind now it seems longer because the bottom is so far down.

“It's right over there,” I say and point. “No use in turning back just a couple of bret from the destination when we've been walking all day.”

I see no reason to remind him that it was he who insisted on coming with me to the strange object I found on my latest hunt. Hen'ex is the shaman of our tribe, and when I described the object to the others last night, he was most interested. “Undoubtedly an Ancestor artefact,” he said. “It will honor our tribe when I study and interpret it. Possibly there will be a blessing.”

Well, the Ancestors are his business, and anything we can't explain is considered to have come from them, our dead predecessors and fathers here on Xren. It makes sense to me that Hen'ex should see it. It's mysterious to me, too.

His eyes are darting around, and he's clearly wanting to turn around and go home. “Yes. No. Well. Surely there must be another way around this.”

We've walked all day and I'm annoyed at having to shuffle along at his slow speed. He's only the same age as me, but he rarely ventures into the dangers of the woods and is not used to carry a sword and to walk in this hilly terrain.

“There really isn't. Take a running jump. I'll stand here on this side, ready to catch you.”

It's embarrassing having to talk to another man like he's just a little boy, but now that we're pretty much right at the mysterious find, I don't want him to turn around without seeing the thing.

Hen'ex isn't brave, but he's smart. If it is in fact something from the Ancestors, I want our tribe to gain any blessing or advantage from it. I want our village to be strong.

Hen'ex takes many steps back, then turns around and runs as fast as he can towards me, the tip of his wildly dangling sword threatening to trip him up. He makes a strange, ungainly jump, but it takes him across the gorge and into my arms.

“Oof,” he says at the impact, and I gently push him away. He doesn't smell so good.

“Well done,” I say. “A jump to rival those of Borar'ax himself.”

He straightens and looks back at the gorge, very pleased with himself. “Yes, it was rather good, wasn't it? You know, I always wanted to get more out into the woods. But you know how it is, my duties in the village do not offer me the time. I'm often saddened by the sacrifices I must make. In addition to the terrible injury I sustained when I was young.”

Oh yes. Hen'ex's famous injury that no one else has ever seen and that he keeps carefully under wraps to 'not upset noble warriors by the sight of it'. It's one reason he's the priest. Disabling injuries early in life is considered a sign that someone is destined to be closer to the Ancestors than the rest of us.

I turn my back and continue towards the place I found the object. The sooner we can go home, the better. And he's right. It will be getting dark soon.

Yes, Hen'ex is smart. Only the shaman of the tribe is excused from going on hunts. He can stay in safety in the village without ever having to face any of the many Smalls and Bigs in the woods around us. He can just relax and enjoy the results of other warriors' hunting. It must be nice.

But of course he's vital to the tribe. We need him. He prays and invokes blessings and good will from the Ancestors, making sure that our hunts turn out successful.

Well, sometimes they do. Less often now than before, some say, and that's the way it seems to me, too.

I make my way through the vegetation, always keeping one hand on the hilt of my sword and keeping all my senses open. Both Smalls and Bigs can come charging at you very suddenly. Only the very large ones can't sneak up on you – the ground trembles when they make their way across the terrain. On this walk I've had to dispose of twenty dangerous beings of various kinds. One would think that they would know to stay out of the way of a warrior like me, but most of them don't have the sense to.

I reach the spot and wait for Hen'ex. He's clearly tired and comes towards me on unsteady legs. I didn't think to bring any kind of extra strengthener for him, because I can easily go the whole day without extra food. But I should have remembered that he's in much worse shape than me.

“Is it here?” He leans on a tree trunk and breathes heavily.

I point. “Behind that bush.”

“I don't have to crawl in there, do I?”

“No.” I draw my sword, stained with the blood of many creatures, then slice the bush off close to the ground.

And there's the object I found.

Hen'ex just stares for a few heartbeats. “Well? Where is it?”

I walk over to it and point with the tip of my sword. “There.”

He frowns. “That black stone? I grant you that it's shiny, but that's hardly a sign of holiness. Many stones found in the woods are polished like that. That doesn't mean it's sacred. Have you brought me here for no reason, Ar'ox? I thought I'd made it clear that I have many critical duties in the village-”

I casually bend down and sweep my hand across the flat, black rock.

Hen'ex breaks off his tirade.

“Yes, it's shiny,” I say with some satisfaction. “But then it also does that.”

The strange rock is half buried in the soil. The part that sticks out is flat and very smooth, about the width of my hand. It has sharp, clear and even edges, as if from the forge of the most accomplished stonesmith. And when I pass my hand across it, it lights up in many bright, wonderful colors that move and flicker and flash and look like nothing else I've ever seen. It commands attention, and I have trouble taking my eyes off it. Yesterday when I first discovered it, I sat down on the ground and just looked at it for many breaths before I could tear my eyes away from it.

“Demonic!” Hen'ex exclaims and makes a secret sign with his hands to ward off evil spirits.

I frown. “Demonic? Not from the Ancestors? Are you sure?”

He stares at it, pale and with wide eyes. “The Darkness made this! The Ancestors don't deal in the demonic realm of lights and ... and ... this! It's a thunderstorm caught in there, a terrible calamity held captive, ready to be unleashed! It's evil!”

I sigh. This is not what I had wanted. I thought that maybe this time someone would be forced to see and understand that there is more in this world than just the dull life in the tribe. This wondrous thing seems to me clearly from the Ancestors. But if not from them, then surely it merits finding out where it comes from.

“A thunderstorm?” I take hold of the strange thing and gently pull it out of the ground. It's about twice the size of my hand, and it weighs hardly anything at all. Still, it feels solid and tough. It flashes calmly and in many colors that to me look more friendly than demonic. “No thunderstorm I've ever seen has looked like this.”

Hen'ex backs off, making more secret signs that I suspect he's making up on the spot. “Leave it! Break it! Smash it! It's evil, Ar'ox! Demonic! It will make demons out of us too, if we let it!”

I hold the thing in my hands. It's smooth to the touch, and the dirt it was buried in doesn't stick to it. “It doesn't seem demonic.”

“How could you, a mere hunter, possibly be able to judge that?” Hen'ex sneers. “I battle with the demons daily, deep in prayer, keeping our tribe safe from those powers that would seek to destroy us! This is only another trick. I command you to destroy it!” He's very agitated.

And I'm just excited. The thing fits perfectly into my hands, as if it were made to be held. I can't make sense of the colors or strange drawings that keep changing, but I feel that it means something. Something that's not demonic. Something that's valuable.

For my whole life I've felt that our tribe is incomplete. No, that our entire lives are incomplete. Futile, even. All we do is hunt and eat, staying alive, tending to the Lifegivers. And for what? For the Ancestors, who never favor us with any sign of their existence, except the visions that Hen'ex regularly tells us he's had? Surely a life worth living would feel different than this. Less empty. More precious. Like this mysterious thing.

The colors on the little object change and dance and flash and ignite something inside me. This is an artefact from outside the tribe. It doesn't have that faint feeling of staleness that everything in our village carries. It feels fresh, new, other.

This could be about the things that are missing. It doesn't feel like something that comes from any tribe here. Or from anywhere else that I know of. Except maybe ...

“Do you think this comes from Bune?”

Hen'ex looks from the object to me. “From the mythical mountain that nobody has ever seen? No, Ar'ox. I don't think it comes from there. Because Bune doesn't exist. Now smash that thing or I will do it myself.”

I stroke one hand across the cool, smooth surface of the object and the patterns on it change. This is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen, and destroying it seems ... just wrong.

“Very well,” I concede and pick up a flat stone from the ground. “You know best. But won't the demons inside get out if I break it against a stone? I think we should get rid of it in another way. I'll drop it into the gorge and when it breaks against the bottom, we will at least be a safe distance away so the demons can't take up residence in us.”

Hen'ex thinks for a second, then relaxes. “Finally a word of common sense from you. Yes, drop it into the gorge.”

“I think I see another way down from here,” I say casually as I walk past him. “You won't have to jump across the chasm again. With your injury, it wouldn't be right. What about that hillside over there? It's not too steep, is it?”

Hen'ex looks towards where I'm pointing, and I stealthily drop the mysterious object into the sack I carry on my back.

“It doesn't look too steep, no. We can try, I suppose. After this long walk, my injury is really playing up. I have tried to hide it from you, but now I must confess that it is indeed bad today.”

I walk over to the gorge and drop the ordinary rock down into it. It falls silently for a second or two, and then there's a very satisfying sound as it hits the cliff at the bottom and splinters. “There. Good riddance to the demons. I'm glad you came here with me, Hen'ex. The Ancestors only know what I might have done with this thing without proper guidance.”

He's mellowed by my obedience and the relief that he doesn't have to jump across the little gorge again. He favors me with a brown smile. “It would be grievous indeed if you were to be possessed by some demon. I'd have to cast you out from the tribe and we'd lose your hunting skills. Come, let us go. The woods darken.”

We walk fast back to the village, and I see no sign of any injury in his hurried, anxious gait. It has been dark for a long time when we see our home, and the shaman is breathing with both exhaustion and fear when he starts to run the last distance to the gate. Of course that's the wrong thing to do, because the final stretch is the part of the walk when you're most likely to let down your guard. And that is something that every being here recognizes and knows how to exploit.

I stay on my guard until I get to the tall wooden wall that shields our tribe from the woods.

I nod to the two warriors guarding the gate. “No one followed me.”

We want to keep the village secret from the other tribes, and for the past several brets I have made sudden stops, just listening for footfalls and other sounds that would indicate that I was spied on. I always do that.

The guards greet me silently and seriously, looking past me to the dark woods beyond before they close the gate for the night. When I hear the sound of the heavy logs slotting into place behind me I relax for the first time today.

I'm in the village now, safe from the dangers of the woods. The tribe is safety. I'm willing to put up with Hen'ex's pompous ways and much more besides for that security, which right now seems like the most decadent luxury.

Cast out, he said. That's not a term anyone uses casually. The evening is warm, but still I shiver at the thought. The shaman has the power to do that, and it's the most terrible fate I can imagine. On my own, as an outcast, the jungle would kill me, or anyone else for that matter. Even the most valiant warrior would succumb. Maybe not the first day, but within one full cycle of the moon Yrf he would be dead. Everything here wants to kill you. The Bigs, the Smalls and the Tinies. And without shelter and food stores and the chance to sleep and rest safely and without worry, nobody can last long.

Chief Gur'ex walks over to me. “Any luck? Hen'ex went right to his cave without a word, but he looked pale and I've heard him chanting ever since. Something bad?”

Despite its lightness, I suddenly feel the weight of the forbidden black object in my bag. “That's what he says. Demonic, he said. But it's broken now.”

Gur'ex nods, pats my shoulder and turns away. He's old now, so old that he's just happy that the matter was settled and he doesn't have to do anything about it.

I smile at his back as he walks away, doing his best to keep his bent back dignifiedly straight. He's the man who gave of himself into the Lifegivers so that I may be given life, and then sometimes took care of me during my early years, before the stripening. When he dies he will become my direct Ancestor. That gives him a special place in my heart.

I find my tent and lie down on my skins with a beaker of water. Yes, the village is important. But still, sometimes I get thoughtful and I wonder what the point is. We're staying alive, yes. But for what purpose?

Something is missing. I feel it very deep in me, and I always have. What happened today just made that feeling much stronger, more acute. The object brought it into my mind stronger than before, as if it were some kind of reminder, a taste of something that is bigger than me. Something important is missing from my life. Something beyond important. Something absolutely vital.

I wonder what it could be.