-Dark Flame-
(C) Fire Emblem
Original ideas copyrighted to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems
Fan Fiction by Becki
I'm happy to say that this Fanfic is really pulling it off ^^ It's getting more interesting, and more is being built on the storyline in the future. I really hope you like reading this story as much as I have fun writing it ^__^
~Becki
Chapter Three: The Djute
Hitting the dust on the dirty ground, Rath slid his knee hard against the small stones. His hand came down to brace his fall, but with no avail. He took a hold of one of the straps loose from the saddle on the horse's back and hoisted himself up. His knee was skinned and smeared with dirt. His hand also stung heavily as it touched the cold air. The boy's arms and legs were already bruised and scraped within twenty minutes of his departure of the Kutolah clan. He couldn't count the number of times he had fallen from the horse as it stubbornly jerked from side to side. His small hands constantly slid from place on the thick reins, and his feet barely fit over the large saddle.
His quiver had been tied at the side of the saddle, Laya's bow prominently sticking out of the forest of arrows. It would be a wonder for a child such as he to even have the strength to string this weapon. For what seemed to be the thousandth time, he pulled himself up against the horse's side, fitting his foot in the huge stirrup. The gray stallion was surprisingly patient with his rider, as if to deceive him for the tricks to come. Rath raised his leg up against the saddle and pushed himself up, and when he was high enough, he swung a leg across the back of the horse and tried to find a firm spot for him to sit in.
He had watched the horses and learned their ways. By observing their reactions and movements, he knew they were beasts who did the unexpected. This gray stallion was stubborn and ill-behaved, but Rath knew it too well. But this was his first time riding the horse; any horse for that matter. And it was far harder than it looked compared to watching his father or any of the experienced Kutolah men ride.
The sun had taken back the warm, welcoming rays and replaced them with hot, bright ones. There was not a single cloud in the sky to shield the light either. As the boy naturally squinted to survey his surroundings, he was tempted to fall asleep. And he would have, if something had not caught his attention.
Before him, about ten bow ranges away were specks of gray and white. The sun distorted the images with the oily waves rising from the ground. Rath had never seen anything like them before, but recognized the resemblance. Huge creatures of thick fur and lolling tongues. Bright teeth flashing in the light, hungry eyes searching the plains. Rath remembered the pack of dogs which roamed around the Kutolah campsite where the children would play with them.
This pack of canines were far larger and more aggressive-looking than the dogs Rath was accustomed to. But he also knew that even the dogs at camp then still bit, and unwelcome fear crept slowly into the back of his mind. Slowly he remembered what Laya had taught him.
Panic is the enemy of concentration. Remember, keep your mind and bow straight.
He took her bow from the quiver.
The wooden grain was rough against his hands, the shaft thicker than the shorter bows he was used to. He looked hesitantly at the arrows. Although there seemed to be many of them, it was yet limited. He was expected to fledge his own arrows.
The group of wolves had quickly ascended toward him, for he had no means to escape. It was stranger still that they were hunting during the day, their vibrant golden eyes hard to miss. The pack split up and started around the horse. Like the nomads of Sacae.. they worked together to live. Rath didn't know what to do. The wolves circled tirelessly but kept their distance. The boy did not know of any strategies to use, and wouldn't know how to combat anyway. His first instinct was to bolt away, but he had neither the skill nor expertise to order this animal, and that was one of the few things he did know. And the fact that he could easily fall off in the flight was also broad, it only could be after the scene of him falling off at a slow pace as it was.
He flexed the arrow on the string of the bow. Carefully and silently he pulled it back, although only half-way because he was not strong enough.
The leader of this pack was a large male, completely silver except for a touch of black on the ears and the end of the snout. Another intriguing trait was that the left eye was gold, while the right was a silver-gray. Rath instantly knew that this wolf was the leader because of the obvious size difference and stance in which it stood. He may not have known to target the leader first, but he did know that taking down the strongest served a better chance than any.
The wolves snarled and snapped their jaws at the stallion's hooves. The horse reared violently and Rath nearly dropped his weapon. Gently kicking the animal by the ribs, he calmed the beast by clicking his tongue. The horse complied, but with reluctance. Rath tried to keep the bow steady, but his hands slipped against the edges. He was lucky, the wolves were not clever enough to know that if they stood at a distance Rath could not hit them due to his inability to fully pull back the string. One of the smaller wolves grew impatient with this show and lunged towards the boy and his horse.
Without thinking he released the arrow, and without hesitation it flew in a straight line, just nicking the wolf's ear. The arrow fell a few feet away, and the wolf withdrew with a wince. The other wolves gave no cries of pity, for their gaze still remained on the boy. The canine which had first attacked came back into the circle, muzzle lowered in shame. Rath drew another arrow, the fear within him refusing to keep him calm. Laya's voice returned, echoing in his mind.
To show your fear to the enemy is a weakness.
Trying to keep his head straight and mind clear, he placed the arrow against the bow, pulling the tight string out. The leader of this pack watched through mismatched eyes. The gray horse anxiously looked about, snorting and shuddering. The canines were buying their time, waiting for the perfect moment for all to attack for the kill.
Rath's small hands trembled against the bow. His legs curled around the saddle to keep him in balance, for any moment he could fall again. And if he did, it meant certain death.
Rath was young, but he was not completely clueless. He had forgotten most of his lessons, but he remembered the important ones. Although he knew so little of this subject called death, this subject the adults hesitated to speak of, he knew it was something to fear. Something beyond altering, out of the hands of men. This had lead Rath to believe death was a far worse fate than pain.
The boy locked a gaze on the largest wolf. The arrow's point glinted in the sun. The wolves' tails flicked the air as if batting something invisible in the air. The horse's feet pounded the ground. Rath made sure the end of this arrow did not stray away from the leader's bulky form.
Then the wolves behind him simultaneously prodded the horse again, taunting the stallion with sharp ivory teeth. The horse shrieked and pulled back once more. This time caught by complete surprise, Rath released the arrow. With a pure note it whistled the melody so familiar to him, resonating involuntarily. And with a gasp from the archer, he saw as the shaft appeared as if by coincidence in the wolf's silver eye. The wolf was killed instantly and slumped with a loud fall to the ground in what was like a slow dance. The green eye remained fixed in a superior stare up at Rath. The pack members made no major reaction however to their leader's death. They growled fiercely however, which only added to Rath's anxiety.
Then there was a shrill high pitched cry above them. Rath threw a glance up to see a large golden eagle flying far in the ocean of blue and frothy white clouds. And just under the bird were.. horses? Yes! Two horsemen, holding blades that sparked in the sun. Manes soaring like the blades of grass on the plains and bright embroidered cloths riding the winds. Rath believed for that instant that perhaps his tribe had sent men to help him in his journey, or even perhaps return him to camp. Perhaps the diviner was mistaken...
The wolves however were not distracted as he was. He did not know they had massed around him until he turned and saw the gleaming teeth and angry eyes. With a cry his hand had released the bow and he fell once again to the earth, eyes shut tight with the heat of their breaths upon his face.
"Hahaha! What a show. Never on the plains of Hanon have I ever witnessed anything like this!"
The rough voice shattered and echoed in the boy's ears. When Rath opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was a deep throbbing at the back of his head. Moaning softly, he sat up and held his head. Then he took in a sharp, strong scent. A spicy taste in his mouth, unfamiliar and unfriendly. Quickly he surveyed his surroundings, looking for the owner of the voice which had giving him an unpleasant wake. The ger he lay in was constructed in a tough manner. Images carved in the rough hide of the leather walls, pictures painted with earthy tones and dark colors. With regret Rath felt disappointment cloud his thoughts as this was most definitely not the bright gers of his Kutolah background.
There was a tall figure sitting cross-legged under the stake which supported the ger. A shrill cry pierced the air and Rath could not help but clamp his hands over his ears, narrowing his eyes. Through covered ears he heard a deep rumbling laugh.
"No need to fear, lad." The dark masculine voice replied with a thick accent. The boy slowly dropped his hands and studied the silhouette in the center of the ger. It felt as if it were still broad daylight outside, yet in this tent it was dark in the covered artificial night. Rath frowned as his head pounded again.
"Who..?" Was all he could manage, dry voice cracking and refusing to say more. The shadow stood up, and Rath could see also the curved outline of a large bird on the shoulder of the figure. The bird fluttered its wings uneasily, and Rath almost immediately noticed the large golden feathers at the dirt floor. The figure raised a hand and preened the bird's sharp wings with a finger.
"Welcome to the home of the Djute tribe." His sly voice left a disturbing foreshadowing sense in the boy, and he instinctively shuddered. The man looked at him, and Rath could see the shine in his eyes. Rath's eyes finally did their best and adjusted to the dim surrounding. He could see only the most evident features in this man's face. A long sharp nose under elegant brows and high cheekbones. The Kutolah boy could also see that this man had rather long eyelashes as well.
"I am Shal, Chieftain of the Djute tribe." The man introduced himself effortlessly, voice smooth with a sly tone. "We managed to pry you away from those beasts without doing you harm." There was an amused component also as he spoke these words.
Rath kept his mouth closed. He felt compelled to say something, yet he didn't. He didn't like the attitude this man had. He had no logical explanation in saying why, but he simply knew the distrust was there. Someone flipped open the flap of the gir and a shadow peered it. It was just as Rath had predicted, still daylight in the late afternoon. A man appeared as did the light.
Rath had a sideways glance towards Shal to observe him further. Dark blue markings from paint smeared across the man's jaw and blurry blood-red designs decorated the area under his eyes. The shadows still hovered over Shal's forehead. Rath felt that same unwelcome fear slowly infest himself as his opinions grew from distrust to apprehension.
The man at the door way said something inaudible to Rath, and Shal stood up. His skin was darker than anybody's Rath had ever seen before, the shade of freshly scrubbed leather.
Shal snapped his fingers and ordered the man away. He looked back at Rath and a grin slid across his thin lips.
"You must be... Rath, no?" Shal queried. Rath narrowed his eyes, trying to keep eye contact with the stranger. Shal's eyes however, were so distant, in a gloomy shade of blue, it was hard to try and keep a direct eye contact. "The Silver Wolf's son! Here under my roof." He laughed again, and Rath this time flinched acutely. His laugh was worse than the diviner's voice, so alike with the penetrating cry of the golden eagle which sat on his shoulder.
"I understand you are on a quest. You seem surprised at my knowledge, lad. You should know that on the plains of Sacae, word spreads like wildfire." He continued. Rath sat, crossing his legs and keeping his breathing to a minimum.
"But I'll let you leave. Let us be graced however to aid you on this journey."
Rath raised an eyebrow but was wordless. Shal came towards the flap and forced it open with a swift tug. The sunlight fluttered in mercilessly and Rath had to cover his eyes from the relentless glare. Shal grinned, and Rath clenched his hands to see that Shal's hair was in the color of the darkest flame.
The Chieftain sniggered with a his sardonic statement.
"Sleep well tonight, young one of the Kutolah. You have a long way to go."