To Save a World Ch. 05

"I know it's a reasonable question. It's just- I could see you've been wondering about it for so long, just holding yourself back for fear of looking ignorant in front of the ladies. And now you finally decided to ask me about it." Trasnu snickered even more, acting like a teenaged brat. Aaron rolled his eyes at him.

"So?" He demanded.

"Shush, keep your voice low, I said." Old Hunter admonished. Tasnu's whisper was just as loud as his. "It's the magic. It sustains the plants instead of sunlight. This area is very magic dense."

"Whoa." Aaron marveled. "How in the hell does that even work? You mean all these plants here, they have magic in them?"

"Everything has magic in them, my master."

"But then, what's the difference? How could plants in this place grow so much through magic but not everywhere else?" The young man wondered aloud, his curiosity blooming at his answered question - but then he faltered. "Wait, does it grow with magic everywhere else?"

Trasnu grinned at him in peculiar, toothy Rakan way. "I've answered you question. Now shush, we'd lose our prey this way. I'll leave discussion of the Shamanic arts to our resident Shaman, as I should."

The young man kept a lid on his questioning, instead choosing to marvel about it silently in his head. The concept of magic eluded him. Lydia seemed to have a different point of view on it, and he wondered how that's working out as she trained under Serche, who also had different views (views - plural, because obviously it wasn't complicated enough) about magic. So far, subjectivity seems to be the name of the game. Even Trasnu couldn't give him a straight answer, and he was the most pragmatic person that he currently knew.

He wanted to know how it worked. If he knew how it worked, then he could learn to do it for himself, and then he could learn to use it. He paused his train of thought - of course, that's only if he had magic in the first place. That's one of the problems; he didn't know the very basic facts. Can it be used by everyone, or only a select few? How would you determine? Would you need special equipment, like a staff or a wand? Can it be generated with technology?

His thoughts were cut short yet again. What are the technologies present? There's just so much he didn't know.

"Shush."

Aaron looked at Trasnu, surprised. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking very loudly, you're not focusing."

"Are you ser-"

"Here they come."

Aaron inhaled as he looked ahead of him. It was a herd of deer - gracious, wary, skittish things. There was about five of them, in his sight, and more were revealing themselves as the herd leisurely walked past, sampling the greenery along the way. Their prey, the reason why they have been crouched in a particularly large tangle of bushes for almost half the day, an hour's careful walk from their camp. He breathed deeply and momentarily squeezed the bow and arrow in his hands, as if reassuring himself that it was still there.

Aaron had several arrows reserved, product of several days' difficult toil, polished and refined through several more days of training. It was primitive, nothing more than a sharpened stone attached to a thin, sturdy stick, as long as his arm. His bow, as well, was a rough, simple thing, but with Trasnu's ingenuity and skill, and Serche's magic, it was a thing of utility, if not of beauty. The weapon was already strung, the arrow was already nocked, lying across his lap, ready. They had been crouching more or less like that for half a day, after all.

"You know what to do?"

"Yes. I take one shot, and if I miss, you'll take care of it."

"Yes, and you will bear the shame of missing." Trasnu grinned at him.

"Whatever. I'll take the medium-sized-ish one on the back."

"The one with a white dot on its forehead?"

Aaron nodded.

"Ready?" The hunter asked, his eyes sharp. The young man met his challenging gaze. He breathed deeply, slowly. His heart was beating in his chest, and he was almost afraid to draw in air for fear of startling their prey. Aaron wasn't as good a woodsman as Trasnu, so he can't go with him to proactively track the beasts, and Trasnu claimed that hunting deer alone would be too difficult and dangerous, as unpredictable as the forest was. So this was their only chance. Weeks of preparation, weeks of tracking, training, all amounted to this one chance.

He had a lot of arrows, but only one chance.

Aaron stood up, unfurling from his seated position like a cobra, his body facing sideways. His breathing was deep, he was ready but relaxed, and his focus was razor-sharp. He could do this.

Aaron drew his arrow with his right hand, the left bracing solidly. His form was perfect, hands ever so steady. A single thought would let the arrow slice through the air and into the heart of an unsuspecting animal.

The deer, his target, looked straight at him and immediately jumped away. His arrow was already flying, but the deer was faster than his thought, and he knew that he would miss. He felt more than saw Trasnu stand up beside him, the action graceful and measured but swift as the wind. The hunter stood up, drew, and fired in one motion.

Somehow, he knew that it would hit what he couldn't.

But he wouldn't be able to tell, because then and there everything went disastrously wrong.

The herd of deer didn't notice them - they were downwind and they hadn't made a sound. It only took a second for the old hunter to realize, but even those seconds cost far too much. Aaron heard the heavy thundering of hooves directly behind them, and then Trasnu was pushing him away forcefully.

"RUN!" He shouted as Aaron sailed through the air.

Aaron met the ground roughly, his fall shielded by a mass of plants as the unknown danger burst through the underbrush like a tank, a huge blur of fur, muscle and horns, demolishing everything in its path. Trasnu jumped forward a millisecond after he pushed Aaron away, but it wasn't enough. Aaron heard a dull thump, and then the old hunter spun in the air, forward-to-back, like a fucking bowling pin. He fell to the ground with a painful thud, but started to get up almost immediately. Ahead, the creature was already turning back.

He had only about ten seconds to soak in the appearance of their sudden attacker, but even then he could tell it was a certifiable nightmare. It was huge - the size of a small horse, its upright height probably coming up to his chin, including its horns. Oh yeah, horns. Long, branching, black, wicked-sharp; and he prayed from the very depths of his soul that the blood that obviously stained it didn't come from Trasnu. It had boulders for legs. It had scales on its shoulders, and thick, black-brown hide for the rest of its body. Its eyes glowed red, hateful.

"Cursed." Trasnu groaned from his kneeling position, struggling to get up as swiftly as he could. "It's cursed."

The creature snorted, stomped its front legs, stepping on the fallen deer with Trasnu's arrow still sticking out of its neck. The deer's bones cracked audibly.

It charged, its frame flowing with power - straight at Aaron. Aaron drew his bow and fired before he could even think, and missed. He was diving to the side, no room to think. He could feel the creature spear the air where his stomach was just seconds before. At least it wasn't after Trasnu, who he saw could barely stand up, clutching his leg.

The young man reacted on instinct, abandoned his bow and ran in the opposite direction- but not before ensuring that the beast came after him. Maybe if it chased him far enough Trasnu could limp into safety. It was a pipedream and he knew it, but he ran anyway. Not like he still had a choice - the thundering of the cursed beast was definitely following him.

Aaron ran with all of his might, the adrenaline burning, lubricating every extension and contraction of his lithe muscles as all of his body strained to carry him away from the monster that was on his neck. Branches slapped at him, greenery tore as he powered through them. There were a million obstacles in the forest, but his footing was sure, a welcome result of Trasnu's wise training. He chanced a look. The beast was carving an unforgiving path towards him and was gaining fast.

"AARON!" He heard from behind him. Aaron couldn't believe his eyes - a spear impaled itself on the ground away from him with a sharp thud, so accurate that he only needed to charge straight at it in order to grasp it in his hand, only several precious seconds away - but what would he do with a spear? He could feel the creature's breath on his back.

His open palm connected with the shaft of the impaled spear, and he lunged to the side with a grunt. For a second his heart skipped a beat as the spear refused to budge, but his weight and momentum dislodged it from the ground and it tore free. He crashed to more plants, the creeping things helping cushion his fall but acting as traps as he struggled to get up - thankful to God, the spirits, and every other deity he could name from this world and Earth that the pointy end of the spear didn't end up anywhere near him during his scramble to be upright.

Ahead of him, the creature skidded to a halt, turned at him, tore thick, grasping vines like pesky spider webs. It huffed loudly, levelled its horns at him and stomped its feet again. It seemed barely winded. Meanwhile, Aaron was struggling to gain control of his breathing, long, measured heaves entering and leaving his lungs. It was the only thing keeping him from truly panicking.

The monstrous thing was truly massive. Several meters away from him, the creature snorted hate at the young man with nose-holes the size of a quarter. It looked like an ugly amalgamation of horse, buck, boar, and Satan - complete with the evil-looking horns. They didn't look like any other set of horns he ever saw, too, vaguely reminiscent of an antler the way it spread and branched, but the instead of graceful curves this one was made of jagged angles, ending in razor sharp points. Even its mouth seemed to be impossibly filled with razors for teeth, even though it had hooves like a deer.

The spear felt good in his hands, reassuring. He experimentally hefted it a little, calculating in his head the amount of time he would have to swing it into position - any position - while the beast charged at him. He didn't fancy his chances, so he stopped thinking about it over much. His hand trembled. This was a fucking nightmare.

It charged, its speed blinding, utterly destructive. Seconds away.

Aaron dropped to the ground in a kneeling position, and then fixed his spear to the ground in between his legs, a forty-five degree angle pointing to the charging death machine. He braced his spear with both hands. 'Pointy end to other man', he thought dementedly, 'Well, boar.'

It happened in a span of seconds. He looked up, they were practically eye to eye - and there was no way that the intelligent, hulking creature just wouldn't change directions at the very last second before impact, and then he'd be well and truly dead. Dread filled his heart, his hands and feet suddenly feeling cold, body drenched in cold sweat. His pants, though, were warm.

Everything suddenly went sharp. He heard the thuds of the creature's feet in slow motion. The nuances of the smell of the forest suddenly invaded his attention. The details of his surroundings became more defined, crystal clear, slow. He swore that he saw the creature realize its mistake - something in its intelligent, malevolent eyes - but it was too near and its weight and momentum too much. For several seconds he felt a flash of victory as it looked like the creature would be impaled straight through its abdomen. Then it did the impossible, and twisted mid stride, its chin tucked in, head slightly to the left, front legs fractionally lowered - meeting the spear point with its shoulders instead of its vulnerable torso.

Its shoulders. With scales.

'Oh, so that's what they were for.' Aaron thought dumbly as the monster collided with his braced spear. It felt like being smashed by an oncoming car, the force of the impact nearly making him lose his grip on his only weapon. The stone sparked on the scales, and it gave a deep bellow as its momentum dragged the armored part of its body past the spearhead and opening a wide gash on its hide. And then the spearhead simply broke. And then the wood splintered altogether, unable to endure the enormous force of the impact.

The monster skidded several feet before it arrested its motion, and it stood on shaky legs, very much not dead. Aaron, too, was not dead yet, but he suspected the creature would correct that shortly. He stood, knees bent, his arms spread to the sides. He was poised, tensed - for what he didn't know. He was weak, lacked a weapon, and far from help. It wasn't like he would survive.

The young man was so close to the monster that if he reached out he could touch it with his hand. He had an insane urge to slap its muscly rump, to taunt it with names. Maybe if he made it mad enough his death would be sure and swift. From such short distance he could smell its stink, a mixture of revolting musk and rotting meat. The creature turned to him with hate in its red, unnatural eyes, but instead of charging it snorted warily at him. It was only then that he noticed the wound on its back. It was big, several inches wide, and deep as well - if the amount of blood flowing from it was any indicator.

Aaron stood stock still, facing off the monster without any indication of his dread, but in his mind all he could think of. 'Please, please, please' over and over. For what he, once again, didn't know. For a fighting chance. For a miracle.

And a miracle indeed. The creature snorted one last time, turned around, and stalked in the opposite direction. Walking away just like that, not even limping, with blood flowing freely down from a wound on its back that would have ended any other lesser being.

He didn't relax until the creature was nowhere in sight, but when he did Aaron collapsed on his knees. He exhaled a breath that turned out to be a sob. Cleared his throat, tried again, and fully cried this time, tears of relief flowing hot down his cheeks. After a while, he tried to stand up, but his legs were shaking so bad that he fell right over, and he so he resolved to just sit there for a bit. He looked at his hands, which definitely trembled as well, and balled them into fists.

Once again, he came close to death - face to face with it. Once again, only pure, dumb luck had saved him. But this time, at least he did something. He did something. Something that preserved his life long enough for the luck to pan out, something with his own two hands and brain. Despite everything, Aaron managed a grin, even as he trembled in the ground.

The sudden upwelling of victory blossomed in his chest. He laughed, even as tears still flowed down from his eyes, and with his laugh strength returned to his legs. The young man stood up. He momentarily worried that he was lost, but he needn't have bothered - the monster carved a path which was impossible to miss. Aaron hurried to follow the tunnel of clearance that the creature tore through the underbrush, eager to tell Trasnu about his exploits. He might have missed the deer, but he sure as hell didn't miss on that one.

But his celebration was short lived.

Because when he returned to the previous clearing to look for Trasnu, he found the Old Hunter lying on his stomach on the ground, unconscious, as a large, deep wound on his thigh watered the earth with gallons of blood.