The Khan Ch. 05: Apocalypse Dawn

Dawn, the day after their marriage.

Jun'ai and Hakkon walked the switchback trail down toward the village. The sun crested the opposite ridge casting the whole valley in a golden glow.

They had been travelling all through the night to get back. Jun'ai was still sore from making love to Hakkon.

Up ahead, a break in the canopy, they saw a plume of smoke rising from Spring Wind.

"What do you make of that, husband?" Jun'ai said, a small smile touched her lips.

However, Hakkon wasn't smiling. "I'm not sure."

They picked their way down the narrow mountain trail. For most of the trek the village was obscured, but in the occasional break in the foliage, Jun'ai would pause to assess the situation. When she did, her worry grew.

It seemed several of the buildings were on fire. This was not simply smoke from chimneys. And she could make out the faint echo of yelling.

At last they reached the floor of the valley. The trees broke and they were in the clear. They approached the first of the outlying farms, their fear mounted, the homes had been abandoned. No sign why.

Then as they got closer to the village proper, they heard the unmistakable sound of battle. The ring of steel on steel, the screams of dying, and the roar of unfinished lumber set to torch.

Neither of them had thought to bring weapons to their own wedding. Jun'ai swore under her breath. "Follow me." And went to the nearest farmhouse. It belonged to Kaiteru and Kiku.

Nothing seemed amiss. Pottery stacked against one wall, tools on the other. Some food lay strewn about the table. A meal half prepared. Behind the hut, they found a massive bow and quiver of arrows. The draw was too much for her but perfect for the huge minotaur. She took a knife from the kitchen. It wasn't much, but better than nothing.

Then at a stack of chopped firewood she found a spear. Intended for hunting vermin, it was short with a small head. It wasn't much of a weapon, but she preferred that to the vegetable knife. She ended up taking both.

They ran side by side. "Who's attacking?" Jun'ai asked.

"How would I know?"

"Fine. Then who else lives in these mountains?"

"No one." They ran some time. Then he added. "There are scavengers living below the Kharolis Mountains. In the foothills. But they never come this far north."

"Who are they?"

"Savages."

The two slowed when they neared the first of the burning buildings. The roof had already caved in. The beams cracked and smoldered on the dirt floor. Hakkon knocked an arrow. Jun'ai levelled her spear. They advanced cautiously, crouched low, creating a small profile.

Movement. A blur past the hut. It was too fast for Jun'ai to get a good look at, but it seemed to be lanky.

More crashes of steel on steel. This time coming from the other side of the village square. The battle was moving away and seemed to be winding down. She hoped that would make the attackers careless.

The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burnt wood. She turned her head and coughed. And looked up. There again. Another blur. This time the beast loped along a bit slower. She saw a furry body. A tail.

Then an arrow shot past her head. Jun'ai gasped. Ducked behind a barrique cask. Another slammed into the wood. She breathed hard. Heart pounded in her chest. Adrenaline rushed.

Around her the attackers cast freewheeling shadows. She looked up, saw them silhouetted by the flames of the burning buildings.

She looked around and saw one standing behind her.

It walked upright, human height. Stooped torso. It stood on canine legs. Heel high on the back of the leg. Long metatarsus bones. It had tall ears twitching in the smoke choked air. Tufts of red brown fur.

The head was that of a wolf, or maybe a fox. Something canine with a snout and rows of sharp teeth. Its hands were nimble, long fingers. It held a bow, arrow knocked.

And the thing was twitchy. It moved in rapid bursts as animals often do. Head darting from side to side. Eyes searching. Then its gaze fell on her. Its eyes glowed golden in the flames.

Not a wolf. A jackal.

Hakkon turned when he heard her gasp. Without missing a beat, he drew, aimed, and fired. The shot was well timed. Jun'ai couldn't have done better. But the creature was quick. It skittered out of the way, tail tucked between its legs. The arrow sailed wide. The creature disappeared behind the flaming wreckage.

Jun'ai cursed. She wouldn't stand a chance with her spear if their reflexes were that good. She met Hakkon's gaze. He was thinking the same thing.

They stepped out onto the main thoroughfare. Spear and bow ready. Three jackals came out of one of the buildings. Weapons drawn. Heads darting from side to side, scenting the wind. They stopped. Froze in their tracks.

Hakkon drew and fired. The shot went wide. Jun'ai charged the one standing apart. He had a nasty curved machete. Jun'ai thrust with her spear. The creature darted back. Jun'ai stepped forward. Again it darted back. This time parrying her thrust.

The other two jackals fled. Hakkon gave chase. She lost sight of him around the building.

She stabbed, aiming to the creature's right, he predictably darted back, and she hacked left and caught him with the shaft of the spear. A glancing blow. No damage. But it stunned the skittish animal.

Pressing the attack, she stabbed left forcing it back. Then cut right. This time the tip sliced the jackals arm.

It jumped. Then crouched low. Unblinking eyes fixed on her spear. Ears pricked forward as if listening to the racing of her heart.

She charged straight forward. The creature scrambled backward. She swung her spear in a low wide arc. Tangled its legs. The jackal stumbled. Hit the ground hard. She reversed the grip. And slammed her spear down. Impaling the thing through its chest.

A red haze came over her. She charged around the side of the burning building and got her first look at the village square. There were a dozen minotaurs dead and dying. Some were clutching arrow shafts lodged in broken bodies. Some were crawling across the blood soaked ground. And some were burned. Flesh and fur smoking. The air filled with the sickening scent of burnt meat.

Tears blurred her vision. This powerful race of minotaurs, strong as they were, lay broken and bleeding and dying. This couldn't be real. It was unfathomable.

There were plenty of dead jackals too. A testament to the fighting prowess of the minotaurs. Even when taken by surprise, even unarmed, they were formidable warriors and took many of the enemy down with them.

Here in the center of the village, the buildings were more or less intact. That was the good news. The bad news was that the jackals were looting the place. They ran in and out of buildings. Carried pottery and tools. They carried food and blankets and any worked material small enough that they would be unencumbered.

Then there were the feeders. Groups of them clustered around the dead minotaurs, cutting hunks of meat from the bones, wrapping it in cloth, stashing it in bags and baskets.

Bile forced its way up. She choked. Vomited.

Hakkon came up beside her. He drew his hunting bow and fired. Again and again. As fast as he could draw. The first salvo punched into the scavengers, dropping several of their number. When they became aware of the attack, they ducked and dodged and scurried away.

Jun'ai charged one as it made its escape. Caught the creature flat footed. She impaled it from behind. The thing dropped, ripping the spear from her grip. It lay twitching on the ground. Kicking madly at the air. It clutched the shaft protruding from its chest.

Before long, its twitching stopped. Dead. The whole area was deserted.

She wondered how many of the villagers still lived. She wondered if her home had been spared the fires.

Then it hit her. She turned and ran as fast as she could, leaving Hakkon in her wake. She ran to the lodge. The hut was intact. No sign of fire damage, nor damage of any kind.

She didn't slow, she burst through the door.

Rasya was crouched against the far wall. The room was a mess. Smashed furniture. Broken pottery. Food splattered across the dirt floor and rough lumber walls. In the center of the room was a single dead jackal. Skewered by an arrow. A scythe lay beside his face. His lower jaw ripped free.

And in Rasya's arms, her baby, Hyun. Jun'ai's legs gave out. She stumbled across the room and collapsed next to the fierce nursemaid. She scooped Hyun into her arms and she cried. She cried long and hard. Salty tears ran into her mouth. Ran across the baby's innocent bovine face.

*

Later, she left Hyun in Rasya's care and returned to the carnage. She was astounded at the level of destruction.

She went to the first minotaur she saw. It was Kaiteru. He had been shot multiple times. Twice in the arm. The heads punched through and out the other side. Once in the chest. Bleeding heavily. But still alive. She snapped the arrow shafts in his arm and pushed them through. She bandaged the wounds. The cloth immediately soaked through with blood.

The chest proved more difficult. She snapped the arrow like the others but was forced to dig around in his muscle and extract the tip. It was bloody and tiring work. When she was done, she was exhausted, her forearms covered in blood. Nearby Hakkon was tending another. She couldn't tell who, so mangled by blade and flames. Two down, dozens to go.

There were several more nearby, all dead. She had seen her share of death before, but she had never been in battle, never been to war. The scale of it was terrifying. All these people she'd never talk to again. She'd never spar with Valen. She'd never chop firewood for Basivpe. She'd never ask Tessia to sing to Hyun.

Past the main square, the dead were scattered father apart. As if fleeing the battle or perhaps charging toward it. And there were more dead jackals. It seemed the main ambush had occurred at dawn when the villagers were gathered for the first meal of the new day. None knowing it was going to be their last.

Then Jun'ai came the gathering hall, a building that also served as Guarinn's home. She saw the fat minotaur sprawled across the door jam.

She ran to him. The body was already cold. He clutched a hatchet. At least their leader had died honorably with weapon in hand.

Then an oddity. Omi the red goshawk had flown to her master and sat perched on his shoulder. As if he were asleep and she felt the need to watch over him. As if the bird understood he needed her help. Omi still wore blinders to narrow her field of vision and the grommet on her leg to tether her to the glove. But no lead. She was free. But she chose to stay with the man who had been her whole life.

Behind her a voice. "There's a poem here." It was Hakkon. "The image of a hawk remaining by her master's side. Unwavering devotion. He would be pleased to know the bird survived."

"Guarinn valued loyalty above all else."

"He earned their loyalty."

Jun'ai had nothing to say to that. She guessed he was probably right. Not that it mattered now. Then she stooped and held out her hand. Placed her forearm before the bird. The hawk was well trained, stepped onto her bare arm.

She stood and passed the bird to Hakkon. It was a symbolic gesture, they both understood that with perfect clarity. The tribe had been decimated. Their leader dead. And now Hakkon had to take over leadership of the tribe. She passed that mantle of command to him in the form of a loyal hawk.

*

Dusk.

It had been a brutal day. Jun'ai and Hakkon had tended as many as they could. They bandaged and disinfected wounds. They pulled arrows until their fingers were raw and bleeding.

Some lived. Most died.

Then she heard commotion. Approaching men. She bolted to her feet. Snatched the spear and turned to face this new danger.

But it was only Sudara leading a band of minotaurs. They looked weary. Weapons bloody. Minor injuries among them, but nothing serious.

"Where were you?" Jun'ai practically screamed.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was here, tending the wounded."

"Where were you during the attack."

"I was getting married!"

Sudara was silent a moment. "Yes. The fey."

Jun'ai waved it away. "We were busy. Where were you?"

Sudara gave a savage smile. "When the main attack was over, a group of us followed them. They were returning south." A pause. "We ambushed them."

Jun'ai breathed a sigh of relief.

"Many were killed. Some fled."

"And you didn't get back our supplies." An accusation.

"No, woman. I did not." He looked down at her with cool eyes. "We came back to tend the wounded. We can always gather the supplies later."

Jun'ai backed off. He was right of course. She put a hand on his arm. Gave him a reassuring squeeze. Then in a soft voice, "I'm glad you're here." She knew what she had to say next. No sense putting it off. "Guarinn's dead."

Silence.

She continued, "I guess Hakkon is the new leader of his tribe."

"So it would seem," Sudara agreed. "Fortunately no other chieftains were in Spring Wind. Just me and Guarinn."

He directed his men to start putting out the fires and to save as much of the material goods as they could. He stopped one of his warriors and told him to assist Jun'ai in tending the injured. There was still a lot of work to do, and few hours of daylight left.

She had never met Engir, a member of Sudara's tribe, recently arrived in Spring Wind. But she knew him that day. She saw him carry the bodies of the dead to a communal funeral pyre. Saw him tend the injured. And saw him comfort those in pain.

Later, the two rested at the edge of the shallow river that cut the valley. Jun'ai washed the blood from her forearms. Splashed cool water on her face, rubbed swollen eyes. In her minds eye, she could see the broken bodies. See the pools of blood. She imagined Hakkon lying on the trampled grass, his chest-

No! Eyes snapped open. That was a dangerous chain of thought.

God, she was exhausted.

Beside her, Engir spoke. "You have blood on your shoulder. Here, let me help." He washed his hands, then scrubbed her shoulders with the heel of his hand. The pressure was soothing, worked away the tension. "You are Jun'ai? Wife of Hakkon?"

She nodded. Rolled her head forward. His hands felt good. Strong yet gentle.

"You are the first human I've met." His fingers massaged the flesh above the collar bone. She melted under his touch. He continued, "I thought humans hated us. That you were afraid of us. Afraid of what we are."

The fingers worked around the edge of her shoulder blade. She closed her eyes. "Why would we fear you?"

"We are like you. But our faces are very different. And humans fear what is different." A pause. "But I am pleased to find a human marrying a minotaur. Perhaps I was wrong about your species." And then suddenly his hands were gone. Their work done.

She blinked a few times and turned to him. "You will find that humans are hard to generalize." Then she asked. "Have you ever seen a jackal? Before today, that is?"

"No. But I've heard stories of them since I was young. Their savagery. Their cruelty. How they hunt in packs, and how they eat the dead. I was told some have the habit of eating insects. Some eat their own shit."

A silence hung between them, cold and vile and full of haunting images. Then Jun'ai put a hand on his forearm and looked up with feigned energy. "Let's get the last of the wounded inside, shall we? Then we can call it a day."

*

A bird's eye view of Spring Wind:

There was a clearing in the center of the village. Blood soaked ground cleared of bodies but not of the trash and debris. Around the clearing, a ring of mostly intact buildings. These had been looted, but still stood. Father out, a thicket of smoldering heaps. The buildings had collapsed, lay in scattered piles of ash. Only a few stood. Islands of normalcy in a dying world.

Farther out still, a roaring fire. The fire raging hot and bright, consuming the bodies of the dead. There were over fifty bodies being cremated here.

This hypothetical bird surveying the scene would rise up on warm thermals. His arc taking him out over the fields and crops untouched by the day's atrocities. The bird would eventually come upon a group of survivors gathered around a small fire.

All of them exhausted. They ate a meager meal in silence. None could sleep. There were seven minotaurs, plus one human and one baby. There were over a dozen injured sequestered in the nearby hut in critical condition. Some of them would live. Some would not.

After they had eaten a simple meal salvaged from the wreckage, Jun'ai spoke. She asked, "What were those creatures? They looked like jackals."

"They call themselves the Drune." It was Sudara that answered. "Below the Kharolis Mountains, in the plains and savannas to the south, there are tribes of beastmen. Some of them have the heads of lions, some have ram heads, some birds."

He stoked the fire with a long stick coaxing more fire from the logs. "Our people used to live on the plains. We roamed far and wide. It is rumored our herds stretched as far as the Silk Lands in the east. Although that was a long time ago. After the Great Flood, most of us fled into the mountains to escape the barbarism and petty raids that made daily life difficult."

"Most of you?"

"Yes. Some remained. It was our great leader Ulrick that made a pact of brotherhood with his two greatest rivals. Then together, they led several of the tribes north into these parts. That was a thousand years ago. Before the fall of the Knossos Empire." A sigh. Then. "The other villages must be told of the attack. They must be warned. And as soon as possible. We don't know if another attack is coming."

"How many villages are there?" Jun'ai asked.

"Maybe a dozen all up and down the Kharolis Peaks. I'm not exactly sure. It will take weeks to reach everyone."

"The chieftains must gather. Decide what to do." That from Hakkon.

"It is obvious what we must do. Kill the Drune leader." Sudara.

"What is obvious is that we have a responsibility to warn the others."

"There are eight of us," Sudara said. "Delegate."

They chewed on that awhile. Then Jun'ai spoke. "The group that goes after the jackal leader should be small, mobile, they will have to move quickly. They'll need warriors of course, but also the best trackers. The rest of us can break into teams and spread the word. We'll need to nominate a new village to be the gathering place."

"Cloven Rock." Sudara said immediately. Hakkon nodded, "Agreed."

In the end it was decided, four would set out for the southern plains to exact justice. Sudara the leader, Jun'ai the politician, Toran the tracker, and Engir the warrior.

Hakkon and Rasya would take Hyun and go to Cloven Rock and begin the process of rebuilding.

The last two, Celeste and Tsukku would stay and tend the wounded until others could come and transport them to Cloven Rock.

Midnight.

Jun'ai lay awake, held in Hakkon's arms. She took comfort in their strength and in the warmth of his massive body on this cold night.

She wondered about the great leader Ulrick that had formed an alliance with his enemies. She wondered if when the time came, Hakkon and Sudara would be able to lay aside their differences and do the same.

And she thought about their future. This would be their last night together for a long time. She caressed her husband's arms while he slept. She tried to memorize his feel. His scent. His musk. It would be a comfort to her on her long journey south.

It was the only piece of him she would take with her.