Hero of Nira

The Vulture's Talon

   Over the next couple of days, Shri taught Kray everything he knew about horse care, from feeding and cleaning to shoeing and saddles. Though Kray had moments when he got over-excited—he almost spooked Nené a few times—he was learning quicker than Shri expected. He seemed eager to prove he could be trusted with actual work, and after only a week, Shri couldn’t think of anything else to teach him.

   “Kray: a workaholic,” Shri said to Kora, who was watching with a bewildered expression as Kray led a pair of horses out to a waiting plow. “Really, who would have guessed?”

   As the two of them wandered toward the forest edge, Kora tilted her head, as if she heard a strange noise. “And he’s not talking!” she said. “It’s unreal…”

   Shri shifted his bow and quiver and leaned against a fencepost. “It’s the mark of a brilliant teacher, it is,” he said smugly.

   With a laugh, Kora gave him a shove. “Careful there, teacher-guy. If your ego gets too big, all the deer will see you coming a mile away.”

   “Are you kidding? I’m one with nature!” He ducked behind a tree, well aware that it was too slender to hide him. “Come and learn the ways of the forest, my child!”

   Kora snorted. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

   “Is that so? Well anyway, this idiot promised to catch something for the butcher today, and I have to keep my reputation.”

   “If you must,” Kora said with a sigh. “Just don’t take too long. It looks like rain later.”

   With that, she kissed him on the cheek and turned back to the village.

   Since the incident with the forest lion, Kora had certainly been friendlier to Shri, and had taken to either kissing his cheek or giving him a hug before he left to hunt. At first, Shri was alarmed by this new habit, but soon became accustomed to it. It even seemed to help him focus in the woods, though it distracted him greatly in any other task.

   Life is good, he thought with a grin as he climbed into a thick, leafy tree overlooking a small forest stream. He and his father were on excellent terms for the longest stretch in ages, he was free to spend time doing what he was best at, and now he had someone to look forward to at the day’s end.

   A scuffling sound brought him back to the present as a boar shuffled up to the stream to drink. It was a young boar, as its tusks had not yet grown fully. It was still a decent size.

   Shri waited until it had lowered its head to the water before releasing an arrow, piercing the boar through the throat and felling it before it could make a sound.

   Rather pleased with himself, Shri dropped to the ground and scooped up his kill. They just keep getting easier, he said to himself.

   He staggered a bit under the boar’s dead weight before turning back to the village.

   As the edge of the forest neared, loud noises could be heard over the silenced forest birds. An audible clanking, like a large pile of horseshoes being dragged over rock, echoed off the tree trunks around him.

   When he cleared the tree line, Shri first noticed the farmers were nowhere to be seen. Curious as to what could cause them to abandon the crops like that, Shri continued on, shifting the weight of the boar over his shoulders.

   Shri caught a whiff of smoke as he passed the first building. He paused. Despite the gray sky overhead, the weather was still comfortably warm. Why would someone need to light a fire this time of day? Something’s not right… There were still no villagers that he could see.

   Shri turned a corner—and ducked back behind it again. As silently as possible, he lowered the boar to the ground and, clutching his bow tighter, he peeked back around the corner.

   Standing in a line along the center of the village were soldiers. Shri almost mistook them for animals. Except for a hint of leather or mail, all fifty-or-so warriors were covered in thick brown or gray furs. Each one carried a spear with a curved and notched blade, and below the collars of their armor they bore a gold brooch shaped like a lion’s head.

   A few of the buildings behind the soldiers were on burning brightly, the grayish smoke drifting lazily upwards to mix with the clouds. The carpenter’s roof was glowing ominously, and the butcher’s whole house was only a jumble of coals and embers.

   The soldiers stood motionless behind the villagers, who were huddled in the dirt in a small circle. Some were injured, and many were shivering, even though it wasn’t cold. With a start, Shri saw Kora holding a wad of dark cloth against one farmer’s arm, but her eyes darted frantically around the village. Everyone else was staring at two men in the middle of the square.

   One wore several layers of black robes with a thick furred collar, which only served to augment his starkly bald head.

   The other man was kneeling before the bald one, bearing bruises and cuts all over his face.

   Shri almost failed to recognize his own father.

   “Enjoying the show?” growled a low voice near Shri’s ear. Before he could react, he was roughly yanked up by both arms and his bow was wrenched from his grasp. Soldiers had appeared on either side of him and were now dragging him out into the square.

   “Your Eminence!” one of his captors barked to the bald man in black. “Seems we have a hero here…” He presented Shri’s bow.

   “Well, then,” sneered the bald man. “Best teach him a lesson, eh, Captain?”

   “Yes, Your Eminence.”

   “No!”

   Jek was staring at Shri, his eyes wide with panic. “No! He didn’t mean it, he wouldn’t!” Jek crawled forward, but the bald man shoved him back.

   The bald man glared at Jek, but an expression of comprehension spread across his vulture-like face. “So,” he murmured darkly, “this is the other one, is he? Shall I ask him?”

   “No, please…”

   The bald man grinned horribly and twitched his head. The two soldiers at Shri’s shoulders shoved him forward, sending him face-first into the dirt.

   “Boy, do you know who I am?” demanded the bald man.

   Shri glanced up at his father before slowly shaking his head.

   “I am Cathartes, the High Priest and Advisor to Emperor Kogar, ruler of all the lands of Nira. You would do well not to lie to me or defy me, or I will command my men to destroy this town and its people.”

   He leaned towards Shri, who cringed at Cathartes’ sour breath.

   “The question I ask is simple,” he whispered. “Where is your sister?”

   Of all the things the priest could have asked, this was the last Shri expected.

   Frowning, Cathartes pulled back. “His Eminence requests her presence at his court. He has need of something in her possession.” He sneered at Shri.

   “Don’t tell him anything!” Jek shouted. Cathartes grimaced and struck Jek with the back of his hand.

   “Where is she?” he demanded. “Tell me or I kill this man.”

   Shri gulped. “I-I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since last night.”

   Cathartes scowled and turned away.

   “I swear, I don’t know!” Shri pleaded.

   “So be it,” the priest muttered. He drew one of the warriors’ swords, indifferent to Shri’s protests. He pulled back and drove the blade into Jek’s side.

   “No!” Shri screamed.

   At the same time, another scream could be heard. Cathartes, grinning, motioned to the soldiers. A handful of them disappeared in the direction of the stables. Soon came the sounds of wood shattering and horses whinnying. The soldiers returned, one of them carrying a crying child over his shoulder.

   “Jia! No!”

   Jia’s eyes found Shri’s. “Brother! Help! Don’t let them take me!”

   “Leave her alone!” Shri shouted at Cathartes.

   The priest made another gesture and Shri was thrown into the dirt.

   “Thank you for your hospitality,” Cathartes said curtly to the villagers. The fur-covered soldiers turned and began to march out of Coerul, led by Cathartes on horseback, and still carrying a weeping Jia.

   Shri crawled over to his father, who had been left bleeding on the ground.

   “Father?” he called with a shaking voice. He removed his cloak and draped it over Jek. “Don’t…”

   “Shri…” Jek said weakly. “Shri, I…”

   “Don’t die. Don’t die.”

   Jek reached up with one hand and touched Shri’s face. “You should… Shri, I…”

   “No! I said don’t…!” Shri wept louder as Jek’s hand fell back and his eyes became unfocused.

   Shri remained there for what felt like days. He wanted to yell. He wanted to run. He wanted to do so many things at once, but couldn’t tell his body to move.

   A crash brought him back to his senses. Another house had collapsed under the weight of fire. By now the villagers were scurrying about, trying to put out the fires or tending to the wounded. Kora and a few others were standing and watching Shri with hesitant expressions, as though they couldn’t decide to approach him or help the other villagers. Why do they stand there? Why can’t they just leave me alone?

   Something in Shri’s mind snapped. He became enraged, but not at his friends. No, he had a much clearer target; the villagers didn’t exist as far as he cared.

   Shri scrambled to his feet and seized his bow, which had been tossed aside by the soldiers. He felt hands latch onto his shoulder.

   “Shri, wait! Where are you going?” Kora demanded.

   He shrugged her off. “You wait here. I’m going after Jia.”

   Without so much as a glance back, he sped off towards the forest, heedless to the thunder that heralded the oncoming storm.