Chapter One- The arrowhead between armour and skin
Bandits; they creep out of the earth, like the worms that they are, preying on the weak, and spreading their infection across the land. They are vicious, live filthy lives, so deserve to die the same way.
I don't have to remind myself of this, as I observe their Gatelands camp from my perch on a pile of boulders near by. I know this well, for I have fought their low-life kind many times. My heart races with the excitement of the imminent hunt.
The strong breeze carries with it their foul stench, and I curl my lip in revulsion, as I stroke the feather of an arrow in my fingers. I am itching to let it fly, to erase their blight from the face of the earth. But still I bide my time, for there are some things that are better with two.
For now, I just observe the camp. It has been carved out under a large, natural red stone arch that encloses it on both sides. I have to admit, this is a smart move as far as bandits are concerned. There are only two entrances to the camp, both being through crude arched gates hewn from whole tree trunks, sharpened to rough points. Here, the guards wait, like spoil on meat, watched by a hawk-eyed sentry with a bow from a log tower close by. Bloodshed waiting to happen. Only it will be their blood that is spilt.
Above me, nestled upon the cliff top, looms the crumbling shell of an Old World ruin, its purpose and structure eroded away with time. Perhaps now it was just another nest for the vermin. It is fringed by another sharpened log fence, to keep intruders out, but I have no interest in going up there. It is not my concern.
All around me, obscene monuments made from the rusted carcasses of machines are erected for purposes unknown to me. Only their filthy kind would think to live in a place like this.
I already know, their meagre defences will not be nearly enough to keep me out. There's killing in need of doing. My muscles twitch with the anticipation. Let them see me, let them fight.
I tire of waiting. I need to hunt.
I scan the sun scorched valley that surrounds the camp. Before me, red, crumbling conglomerates are scattered between vast cliff faces, and mesas in the distance. To the East and North, loom vast snow dusted mountain ranges, dwarfing all in their shadows and stretching far out of sight. Still, I see no sign of my hunting partner.
The sun has already begun to sink towards the far horizon, and the shadows cast by these magnificent leviathans, grow long. Its blood-tinged light glints off the metallic flanks of a fire bellowback that patrols in lazy circles down on the plains.
The bipedal machine with its reptilian body and shell-like cargo chamber, is no danger to me at the moment. It seems to be taking interest in something behind a large outcrop of rock that obscures my line of sight. It stops to inspect whatever it was that it spotted.
Finally, I see who I am waiting for.
From behind the rock pile, gallops a single strider that emits a bright blue light from its head and neck. Perched nimbly on its back is the lithe, young Nora huntress, with hair like a smear of blood. She deftly pushes her over-ridden mount to the right to avoid the jet of flame the bellowback shoots from its metal jaws.
With a confidence born from years of survival in the wilds, the huntress twists in her seat, bow in hand and arrow nocked, its head ablaze. She nudges the strider with her leg and it circles back around, so that the bellowback's blaze canister under its tail, is in her sights. She fires off several arrows in quick succession that explode on impact with the machine.
I watch with rapt attention, for I can hardly believe what I am seeing. It is thrilling to watch. The flaming arrows flash against the machine's metal hide, while the huntress continues to circle.
Ignoring its own massive weight, the bellowback jumps, immediately closing the gap between it and the strider. With a booming crash and a shower of silt, the bellowback lands almost directly on top of the strider. I am certain that the horse-like machine and its rider will be crushed under the mountain of metal.
I leap from my crouched position atop the boulders and The Voice of Our Teeth, is in my hand, ready to do her thing. I sprint towards the battle, leaving the bandits with a temporary reprieve.
I am half way to where the giant looms, when the flame haired Nora rolls out from under the beast, slashing its great legs with her spear as she does. It emits a deafening metallic roar as it pirouettes on the spot, whipping it long, segmented tail around in an arc, and lets out a stream of fire. The huntress somersaults out of the way. It is certainly a sight to behold.
What remains of the strider is catapulted into the air with the impact of the bellowback's tail, and explodes into several pieces upon hitting the ground. I have to leap out of the way to avoid a collision with a large metal shard.
As I get to my feet, I glance around to see where the huntress is. I find her a few metres away, continuing her assault with fire arrows that begin to burn the machine's body.
Taking her lead, I shoot a precision arrow into the gullet. I know that destroying these chambers, filled with bright yellow blaze, will disable the fire attack.
The huntress fires off another volley of arrows at the small blaze canister at the base of the tail. If she has noticed that I have joined her in this fight, she pays me no attention.
There is suddenly a fiery explosion that tells me that she has been successful in destroying the component. The bellowback catches alight and shakes itself in attempt to quell the flames. Meanwhile the huntress continues firing.
The bellowback stops long enough for me to get another precision arrow into its gullet. The component flashes bright blue and sparks with the damage. Another arrow should be enough to destroy it. As I expected, the arrow tears through the gullet chamber and I pause to watch the resulting explosion that wreaks havoc upon the brute's body. It crashes to the ground as the fire engulfs it.
Finally, the Nora looks at me over the flaming husk, the scowl she saves just for me, etched into her perfect face. She almost looks annoyed that she wasn't the one to finish off the machine. I grin broadly at that, which only succeeds to deepen her frown. With a resigned huff, she approaches me.
"Nil...to what do I owe this pleasure?" The sarcasm in her voice makes me chuckle. Oh, how I do look forward to our little meetings.
"Don't pretend you are not here for them, Aloy," I reply, gesturing to the camp dug in behind me.
"I ride for Meridian. They just happen to be in my path. I'm not here for them,"
"A happy coincidence then,"
"Not a happy one,"
"Well, since we are both here..." I let my comment trail off, pointing behind me again, "I know you want to,"
"I don't want to, but if this is the last time I'll have to do this, then let's be done with it,"
"Then, let us go spill some blood and savour the feeling,"
She rolls those green-gold eyes of hers, but I know I have won. So, I lead the way back up the hill to our friends. I do not have to look back to see if she is following, I already know she is. She is a hunter, like me. Two kindred spirits. Oh, how I love this feeling.
So many bandits killed by our hands. It's refreshing. I believe we have come a long way since our first hunt over at Devils Thirst in the Sacred Lands. She didn't trust me at first, but I don't blame her for that. I understand that trust is a rare egg to find. She would likely say that she still doesn't trust me, but I know somewhere deep down, she does. I can see it in her body language, in the familiarity of our greetings. I just won't expect her to admit it.
But, as I told her then, I am just a traveller, with a bow and a concern for the state of these lands. She is also not a bandit, so she has nothing to fear from me. Besides, she intrigues the shadow out of me, and she is more than a little attractive. I had been very keen to see what she was capable of, and she did not disappoint me. I became very fond of our little adventures with the scum of the earth. Instead of carving through their camps on my own, I would wait on the fringes, looking for her return. I knew, eventually, she would be there. My skin would prickle at her approach, at the bloodshed to come.
That same feeling tingles down my spine now, as we approach the camp. The sentry in the tower is casually leaning on the log strut, his sleepy gaze focusing on nothing in particular. He is bored, distracted. He will not be giving his full attention to his job. He is confident that no one is around. We will soon prove him wrong.
I glance at Aloy, who moves up beside me, settling in the tall grass that hides us from view. The gatepost is only a few metres away. She observes them in silence, formulating her attack. I know she prefers to hunt with stealth, but I have no patience for such things. I say, go in fast and hard, and as loud as possible, let all know that we are here. Let them fight back, for this is where the real challenge lies! Let them sound their alarm, let the others come running. The more I get to kill, the more exciting it is. It is a gift.
My fingers itch for the bow string. I glance at her expectantly and she meets my gaze with her usual scowl. She creeps forward, keeping low in the grass. She pulls out a small stone from a pouch on her belt and lobs it just short of the gate. It lands with a dull thud in the red dust and alerts the guards nearby. The tower sentry is now fully awake from his lazy stupor.
One of the gate guards ventures beyond the arch and Aloy whistles to attract his attention. I huff in irritation, Why are we wasting time with all this skulking, when we they are right there in front of us? Just waiting for us to kill them.
She throws me a warning look, not to intervene. I narrow my eyes, but do not challenge her. She waits on the edge of the grass patch, as the bandit cautiously walks towards us. Her spear is ready and dangerous in her hand. My pulse races when she strikes silently out of the grass, like a stalker in the shadows, hunting her prey. Her spear drives deep into the bandit's midsection, and he falls in a torrent of blood, without even knowing what had killed him. It is pure poetry. This hunter is something else. I know she lives for this. I see it through her wilful pride. She masks it behind her righteousness, the need to be heroic.
I grin at her wickedly, excited by the copper tang of the blood that was spilt. Hungry for more.
She repeats the process with the second gate guard. I watch with mounting impatience as he wanders closer. He is near enough to be killed. No more waiting. I snatch my knife from its sheath, and before Aloy has time to react, I leap up and stab the foul man in his soft neck. I feel the hot blood spill over my hand from the wound. I watch as the spark in his eyes fades and I see the glint of myself, the bringer of his death.
I like to look into a man's eyes as he dies. Much is to be found there. They say that the eyes are windows into the soul, and this is especially true when one dies. Whether it is a look of horror, defiance, or shock, much can be learned about his character in those short moments before he draws his final breath. Those that try to kill me are the most exciting. Even as death looms, the strength of character is evident and invigorating. Electrifying. The rush in my blood compels me to find more. This is why I would rather face a man in a fight, so that he has a chance to fight back. This poor bandit never got that chance. I feel like it is cheating. It lacks a certain….excitement. I need more worthy foes.
Not to be dissuaded, Aloy continues her prowling, shooting me a contemptuous glance that makes my blood heat. I grin at her again in return. Her inexorable spirit is almost as invigorating to me as spilling blood.
I watch her creep forward, quiet as a breath of wind. One of the bandits emerges from inside the arch to investigate the body of his fallen comrade, and he too is erased from existence without even knowing it. I move up behind her, feeling increasingly restless. Too much lurking, not enough killing, not enough excitement. The sentry is scanning the area immediately below him. In the waning light, he does not see us. But I see him and I cannot help myself. I have him in my sight as I nock an arrow. I can almost see that indomitable huntress rolling her eyes as I break cover and let The Voice of Our Teeth, do her thing. I hear the satisfying, meaty thwack of her arrowhead strike true. The cretin falls with a muffled scream to his platform.
To my delight, and no doubt to Aloy's irritation, the sentry's strangled cry is enough to alert the other bandits inside the camp to our presence. The whole camp is now looking for us, but Aloy is still intent on doing it the slow and boring way. So, I leave her to it, and nock another arrow. I burst from the grass that hides us, as my arrow sings in the wind. It finds its target, a bit low for my liking, hitting the bandit in the lower abdomen. He stumbles, but keeps his footing. He fires back, and I have to dodge out of the way. Four of his comrades have joined him.
Yes! Now, this is a fight!
The bandits are all focused on me. They do not see a certain red-haired Nora, sneak in behind them, until one of the four is suddenly impaled on a her spear, like a landed fish. While they are distracted, I let fly another arrow, killing one of them instantly with a head shot. I am quite proud of myself, I have to admit.
Aloy finishes the other two and for a moment we are left standing there staring at each other. She narrows her eyes and turns away without a word. She reaches up to touch the shimmering, triangular artifact nestled at her temple and pauses. Not for the first time, I wonder what it is, and why she uses it so much. She has never spoken of its purpose, but there have been a few occasions I wanted to ask. I remind myself to do so when there is an appropriate time.
She peers off to the north, towards the other end of the camp. Why does she wait? I know there are more to kill. I walk towards her and she gestures to where she is looking. I follow her gaze to where three Carja outlanders are tied up to some wooden posts. I shrug. They may be my countrymen, but I have no interest in heroics.
She ignores my indifference and points to the right, where three more bandits had just emerged from behind a rock outcrop. This huntress has the keen eyesight of a glinthawk. I am impressed.
I heed her silent command, readying another arrow. I glance back over my shoulder as I leave, to see her making her way to the captives, fingers pressed to her temple again. What is it with that thing? She is certainly different.
The bandits have seen me first, leaving Aloy free to see to the prisoners. One is quick enough to shoot before me, and I feel white-hot pain flash down my arm, as his arrow embeds itself in to my left bicep. I let out an involuntary cry of shock. My fingers betray me and I drop my bow. I feel the blood ooze down my arm. My blood! Yes! Blood for blood! I pull my knife from its sheath and rush the bandit that shot me, without hesitation.
My swiftness catches them completely off guard. If they think that one arrow would be enough to stop me, then they deserve to die. I pounce at the one who shot me, knocking him to the ground. His breath whooshes from his lungs with the impact, and he will never draw another, as my knife rakes across his throat. His life blood spills over my hand and into the dust, staining it crimson.
I take half a second to judge him. In that moment, I see the expression of mixed shock, horror and….awe. Yes, he is right to be impressed, I think. For in the face of it, he is lacking. Well, at least he tried to fight back. I leave him to bleed out on the ground, and turn to the others.
By some power, be it fear or shock, they have frozen in place, their weapons slack in their grip. They peer uncertainly down at me, at my blood drenched hands and wither under the demonic look I have in my eyes. I do not wait. My knife is slick with blood, but I grip it firmly as I throw myself at the second bandit. I know by the sudden scuffle beside me, that the third has gone to flee. Coward.
I quickly finish off the bandit and stand up, looking to see where my prey had run. As I do, I feel the rapid shift in the air that follows in the wake of an arrow, just in front of my face. I turn to see Aloy holding her bow taught, a second arrow waiting on its string.
The fleeing bandit has caught her arrow square in his back. He pitches forward and lies still. I nod in approval. It is a fitting death for a coward.
Aloy lowers her bow, scowling at the blood on my hands.
"Looks like you've had fun," she says disapprovingly.
"I always have fun where there's killing to be done," I grin, as I retrieve my bow from where I dropped it.
"Are you not worried about that?" She points to the arrow shaft still protruding from my flesh. Blood steadily drips from the wound.
"That can wait. Shall we see if there are any more vermin scurrying in their holes?"
"They're all dead, Nil," she replies flatly.
"How do you know that?"
"I just know,"
"It's that thing on your ear isn't it? The thing from the Old World? You keep touching it. What does it do?"
"Let's me see things that others cannot. I've heard some refer to it as a 'second sight',"
I raise my eye brows at that, "You see things? What, like the bandits behind those rocks, and those captives?"
"And much more than you could ever imagine,"
"So, you are not some Nora shaman with mysterious abilities, then? It does it all for you,"
"That's not a thing, Nil," she frowns.
I shrug. "How would I know? I don't usually talk to savages,"
"You're covered in blood, and you're calling me a savage?" She retorts.
I am about to respond, when I am slammed by a wave of dizziness that unsteadies me. I feel the urgent need to sit.
"That arrow needs to come out," Aloy observes.
Is that concern in her voice?
"Careful, someone might think you actually care about me," I grin mischievously.
Her only response is to roll her eyes as she kneels down beside me.
Without so much as a warning, she yanks the shaft up, so that the barbs of the head tear free of my skin. I cannot help but shriek with the intense pain that burns like a fire arrow in my arm. Blackness presses in on the edges of my vision, threatening to pull me into unconsciousness. Aloy must have realised this, because she swipes her hand across my face, and the shock of the slap, jolts me back into focus.
"You enjoyed that didn't you?" I grit my teeth against the searing pain of the now, open wound.
"Sorry, had to happen," there is about as much sympathy in those words, as there is kindness in a Ravager.
"You know, this could have been avoided if you had just followed my lead and stayed quiet," Aloy shot me a sideways glance, as she rummaged in a pouch, pulling out some cloth strips next.
"Now, where's the fun in that?"
I watch her as she works, expertly tending to my wound. She wads up a piece of cloth to soak up the, now free-flowing blood, then tosses the bloodied rag aside and reaches to her pouch again. This time, almost gently, she holds some deep red flower petals, in her hand. They too, appear to have been soaked in my blood. I wonder what they are, and it must have shown on my face, for she answers my unspoken question, even if it is slightly condescending.
"Don't panic, it's only Wild Ember. It will help to heal the wound,"
Wild Ember, I had heard of it. It was supposedly a medicinal herb used by savage tribes, but I had never actually seen it before.
I nod. "You have evidently done this before," I say, inspecting her work.
"You don't survive in the wilds without knowing how to take care of yourself," she mixes the petals with a small amount of water from her water skin, to make a pungent paste that she smears roughly on my wound.
Almost instantly, the burning pain in my arm subsides, as the salve works to numb the area.
"Oh, it actually works," I exclaim in surprise.
"Of course it works," Aloy shoots me a smug glance, as she wraps another strip of cloth around my bicep.
"I know the Nora are savages, but I thought they would at least have healers or something,"
She sighs. "I was an outcast, Nil. I grew up outside the settlements,"
"Hmm, yes, I heard they do that. Seems, cruel to me,"
"It is what it is. Anyway, I was only allowed to join them after the Proving,"
"I imagine that is some kind of Nora coming of age ritual?" I shrug.
"Sort of. It is to prove whether a young hunter is capable of being a warrior, a Brave,"
"And you passed with flying colours?" I guess.
"I only just escaped with my life,"
"I find that hard to believe,"
"People aren't supposed to die in the Proving. It was attacked by the Eclipse. Many died,"
I frown. "Why would they attack?"
"They were trying to kill me," she sighs again. "It's a long story,"
I know she will not tell me that story right now.
I consider her for a moment. Her words hold an underlying grief, like she carries a great weight of something from that time.
"So then, how did you survive?" I ask slowly, reluctantly side stepping what I really wanted to know.
But she has said all that is going to. She shakes her head.
"That is not something I want to talk to you about,"
I am momentarily taken aback. "And here I am thinking that we are friends,"
Aloy frowns. "I never decided we were friends, Nil, and now that we are done here, it's time to move on. I have more pressing issues,"
I peer back at the camp, where the Carja outlanders that Aloy has freed, have claimed it for themselves.
"So bittersweet...like a smile through bloody teeth," I say.
"What's the matter? You seem disappointed,"
"Ah, the bandit clans are gone, and I heard another turned back at the southern plains...just at a sniff of the legend we carved,"
Aloy rolls her eyes again. "That's what all this bloodshed was for Nil, to end the bandit threat,"
"But now there's nothing left to kill, unless..." I trail off, as a thought enters my head. Perhaps I can kill her here, this perfect Nora huntress with the Old World artifact. No, no, not here. It will not do.
"I guess this is our last farewell," she smiles. Or is that more of a grimace?
I contemplate my idea in silence for a moment.
Finally, I reply. "After all we've been through, this isn't the place for that. There's a mesa, near Meridian, with a view of the Spearshafts. Meet me there, and then we shall see,"
"And why would I go there with you?"
"Because you want to know what happens next. And that is where we will find out,"