DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD
a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce
- ZERO -
Gammer told me it's called a 'deer'. It's big; wild; antlers as long as my leg. I can see it clearly through the scope on the ancient rifle. Its hide is a rich, deep, reddy-brown colour. I want to stroke it. My bracers are made of deer skin - they're warm and tough and Gammer showed me how to carve strong runes and powerful wards in them to protect me.
It's my third time Overground. The first time, I came with Mama. We were out here for an hour, maybe, just looking at all the life. It's dead in the Underground. Safe, but dead. I saw a bird. The trees are all around you, vines and creepers have crawled their way up the buildings but you can still see their windows, shining in the moonlight; glassy, like a corpse's eyes.
The second time I came with Bejay. He let me hold the rifle. There were no bullets in it but I aimed it, down the sights, like he showed me in the old tunnels and pulled the trigger once or twice. He pointed to a bush and I watched it for a long time. It rustled. There was a flash of red fur. A fox, he told me. I pointed the rifle, lead the creature a little as it trotted across our path. I didn't know why, then, but it seemed the right thing to do. I pulled the trigger. I know I would have got it. We went back and Gammer drew me a picture of a fox. I put it on my wall.
I breathe slow, now. I feel the fear bubbling in my stomach, threatening to climb up, into my throat, turning to a scream. I shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous. All my life I've been told that and all my life I've wanted to get out, to get up here, to see what's so dangerous, to see why I can't come. I still don't see it. There's no visible danger - no monsters roaming in the night. But I can feel it. There's something terrifying out here and my body tenses on its own, I realise I'm ready to run.
Bejay makes the ready finger-sign at me. Time to see if I can kill. I press my cheek to the cold metal of the rifle, sight down the long scope. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hold. The deer's flanks quiver and it shakes its head. It is beautiful. I pull the trigger. The deer's life ends.
- ONE - I -
Later, I play with one of the deer bones. Gammer has carved a single rune in it. It's a thank-sign, she told me, to thank the spirit of the world for giving us its gift of food. I don't know how much of it I believe, anymore, but I press the bone to my chest and whisper my own thanks to the little light near my bed. I feel a strange warmth through my palms, but it passes quickly.
My room is small. A corrugated tin wall separates my room from Gammer's and a slatted door closes it off from the living space. Even through the door I can hear the fire crackling and spitting, can hear Mama and Rico talking in low voices in the living room. I've got some shelves with clothes on them. Blankets. A small box I keep my treasures in. I open the box and put the bone inside, moving a broken purple comb and some red-stained glass beads to make room.
Nearly everyone in our village ate some of the deer. There was a little celebration in the common hall. Bejay played his flute and Simmo strummed his guitar and we danced while the deer cooked. Gammer wept a little; I didn't know why, then. I think I do now. Elder Majio inducted me into the hunter cadre - he said words that I can't remember but seemed full of wisdom and portents at the time. Bejay gave me the bullet casing on a length of twine. I put it over my head and dropped it down the front of my shirt. It sits between my breasts and scratches my skin but I can't take it off. I won't take it off.
There's a knock on the door of our apartment. I hear another voice as Mama opens the door. It's deep and rich, though I can't hear the words. Footsteps. There's a gentle knock on my door - without looking I know it's Mama. "Lycus is here." she whispers.
Lycus. I've heard of Lycus. He's the best hunter in the Underground, so they say. Leader of the cadre. A legend. I stand up and the bullet casing rubs against my skin - makes it chafe. I open the door and see him standing there, his back is to me, he's warming his hands by the fire. Rico looks scared. Lycus is tall but thin. His ragged coat touches the floor in places. There is a long, cruel knife at his hip. Dried blood has spattered the rune-cut sheathe.
"May I come in, girl?" he says over his shoulder. I nod. Though he isn't looking at me he seems to understand. Or he doesn't care. He turns and enters my room. I've left the box open. He reaches in and takes the bone. "Thank-sign." He rubs the rune with his thick thumb. He's wearing old, leather fingerless gloves. They look like they used to be green. His thumbnail is black. He makes a noise in his throat and tosses the bone back into the box. "Good that you know signs." He raises his eyes and glances at me from between the folds of his deep hood. Thick white hair falls around the sides of his face. "Spiritualism is bullshit. The rune's power comes from us, not from old ghosts. But knowing this doesn't diminish it. Good that you know signs." Suddenly, he grabs my hand. He's turning it over. My mouth hangs open: I'm stunned by his speed. He rubs his calloused, dirty fingers across mine. I have blisters at the bottoms of my fingers, at the crook of my thumb. There are cuts on my knuckles and a long graze across the back of my hand. Callouses are forming, some have reopened. He touches them all, one by one, then nods. There's warmth in his touch that isn't just body heat. I sense a smile in the darkness of the hood. "Practice?" he asks.
"Training." I say. There's a grunt that I take as a laugh. He releases my hand and sits on the bed. He pulls down his hood and blinks a few times in the light. He has a thick beard - black shot through with glimmers of white. He's older than Mama but younger than Gammer. His face has more lines than Elder Majio but his eyes are clear and shine in the light from my little lamp. He has an old bruise high on his cheek. A livid scar adds another fold to his forehead.
"You're a hunter now." he says to me. His eyes dart around the room, keep flicking back to look into mine. I am surprised by their intensity every time.
"Just one kill." I say. I'm nervous but breathe slow, trying to calm myself.
"First shot," he grunts, "first kill, I heard. That the way of it?" I nod. "If you can kill you can hunt." The fingers of his right hand gently brush the carved-bone handle of his knife. An old habit? Does he do it for reassurance, maybe? Comfort? I look at the handle. There's a thank-sign on it, the surrounding bone worn almost flush with the carved rune. He sees me looking. "You will come with me."
"What about Bejay?" I ask without thinking. "He can kill."
"Bejay stays. Had his chance." And didn't take it, I think.
There's a long pause. I don't know what to say. "When?" I ask, finally, though I already know the answer.
"Now."
- ONE - II -
Mama cried. I cried a little. Rico gave me a stone with power-sign painted on it - I have it in my pocket. Gammer pressed a tightly wrapped parcel into my hand, something hard inside, and whispered into my ear, "I've been keeping this for you. It was your father's." I felt wetness on her cheek transferred to mine. "Hunt." she had rasped, "kill. There is honour in this. The spirits will guide you and keep you safe but you must find strength for yourself." I haven't opened the packet.
Lycus had returned to the Overground with the small band of hunters who had accompanied him on the trip to our Underground village. He had told me to gather what things I needed. Needed - he had stressed the word - not wanted. I packed clothes in a sack - trousers, shirts, gloves, a warm, hide tunic. I dressed for the cold in thick trousers; pulled another shirt on, buckled my strong belt and pouches around my waist, threw on a patterned waistcoat that was easily the prettiest thing I owned and picked up my jacket. At the door to my room I turned and looked back. The box was still open. I took out the bone and closed the lid.
Mama was waiting in the living area, standing with her back to the fire and a large bundle in her hands. Tears streaked clean lines down her cheeks, made her skin gleam. She held out the thing to me and I took it, unfolded it. A long coat that I remembered as being my father's. It is made of leather. Dark green; patched, weathered, beaten and well looked after. Mama must have waxed it regularly, even after… It has a woolen lining - warm and comfortable - and many little pockets and pouches, some hidden, all useful. There's a hood, deep like Lycus', with thongs to tie it down and buckled straps to adjust its depth. It has padded cuffs that can be tightened around the wrist. If you look closely you'll see hundreds of overlapping runes - their power strengthened in strange and mysterious ways as they come into contact with one another. It's a secret language and I know much of it without knowing how I know. It's instinctive. Intuitive. On the inside collar, where the coat rests against my neck, there is a potent ward - two runes in symmetry, their edges overlapping, one a protection and the other a banishment. The ward feels warm, like sunlight.
I close my eyes and see my father standing in the doorway of our little house, wearing the coat. He's got a long rifle over his shoulder. He's smiling at me and Mama. She's holding me in her arms, I'm so small. Even then, I knew I'd never see him again.
I took the coat, put it on. Mama cried again. "You're so like him." She said. I cried again. I put the bone in a pocket near my breast.
