Blood Ivory

         First light had yet to break the horizon, but the air grew warm and stuffy. Wispy tendrils rose upward, carrying an earthy fragrance, and the crickets symphony grew. Sweat clung to Endir's tunic and trickled over fingers clamped upon a longbow. An arrow sat notched with two more plunged tip first into the earth. Concealed within a thicket of gnarled shrubs, his single hazel eye observed the hunter's shed and its surroundings. Rage pulsed through his veins at the sudden crash and sharp yelps rising from within. If the new fish traps were damaged, the burglars will die horribly. Silence fell, and a shadowy figure wriggled out a side window, pulling something heavy. Fist drew towards ear, a clean shot. Another figure scurried out the window and Endir sighed. He should have known it was those two idiots. Nobody else would be so bold. Snatching up their contraband, the figures stole away, and Endir followed with feline grace.
         Dawn approached, its first rays pushing back the ebon curtain, and stars blinked out one by one. Endir kept ampule distance from the culprits, an effortless task with the noise they made and the trail of trampled foliage. He slowed to a crawl, voices ahead.
         "We need more twine!" one voice hissed.
"Quit whining! It'll be enough, now hurry. We need to be in the fields by mid-morning," another snapped.
         The first voice belonged to Jamis, a wiry youth with freckled cheeks and auburn hair, and he was never far from Valik, a tall, stocky whelp cursed with ego and strength. What hellish scheme did they plot? Within a glade surrounded by thick oaks and towering maples, the two apprentices sorted the loot. Grass sat compressed under a hide blanket littered with twine spools, braided straw, wooden frame bits of differing sizes and a couple of ovular twig baskets. An itch spread down the left side of Endir's face, pulse rising. These fools are going to get themselves killed.
         "Ready," Valik said, grinning.
"Master Endir will tan our hides for this," Jamis said.
"Bollocks to that codger. Once we are done, he'll lead the entire village in songs praising us,"
"Him sing? Do you think he could?"
"I'd pay good coin to hear that raspy voice bleat out a tune,"
"I'd be happy to sing at your funerals," Endir said, revealing himself.
Both youths spun, faces ghost white and mouths agape.
         "Care to explain yourselves, lads?"
Valik mumbled about trapping Culbears, and Endir suppressed a mocking laugh. This whelp couldn't be bothered to construct a proper lie before engaging in larceny. At least Jamis was smart enough to remain silent, gaze held downward. They writhed under Endir's glare, and the silence was no more welcome than the early morning heat.
         "Neither of you are ready," Endir said.
Anger flashed across Valik's eyes. His reply came in a mocking tone.
"The plot is up, Jamis. Good Master Endir has foiled us. Oh, could you imagine the shame for us to triumph where he had failed many tim-"
         A gloved hand gripped Valik's tunic, and his speech ended in unintelligible mumbles. Endir drew close, a smile accenting the scar running upwards from lower left jaw to forehead through a leather eye patch.
         "I've known many fools like you," Endir said, "They're all dead now, and I expect you to join them soon. But perhaps poor Jamis can be saved. A demonstration is in order."
         Neither apprentice was trusted to heed instructions, so Endir ensured all stolen items were returned to their exact places in his shed. Fortunately for the whelps, the fish cages were intact. He led them to the training pens, carrying a long rod with an ovular top. Braided horsehair spilled from its crown, covering the sides, and a weathered cloth horn protruded from the front. This device had been sequestered under cobwebs and dust, and a lingering itch remained on Endir's face along the scar. Damn these whelps for forcing him to use it.
         "The Oorlong stands nine feet tall, toe to horn," Endir said, "and twenty feet long from nose to tail. A thick fur covers a thicker hide. Axes, blades, and spears are worthless against them."
"We know," Valik muttered, earning a whack and Endir continued.
"Their only weakness is their eyes."
Braids parted, revealing two pairs of grape sized openings mounted upon a painted backing.
         "Even those are protected by its fur. While an Oorlong is standing still, you cannot manage a hit. Only during a charge is your target presented. But an Oorlong can outrun a warg with ease and are tenfold ferocious. They do not relent until their foe is gored by horn or trampled underfoot."
The itch flared, but Endir ignored it.
         "A skilled hunter can release three arrows before he must evade and pray someone in their party can steal the beast's attention. Succeed, and the ivory horn is worth three times it weight in gold, and nobles across the continent pay even more to employ the hunter. However, a fresh grave and wailing widows are the typical reward for such hunts."
         Endir remembered the speech from having received in many times long ago. Those were simpler years when he possessed youthful ambition, but such motivation was a distant memory. The dummy was thrust into Valik's hands and Endir took Jamis to the opposite side of the pen, instructing him to prepare.
         "Valik! Keep the pole angled and charge with all haste. Five lashes if you slow for any reason!"
         Valik bellowed and charged. Jamis' first arrow sailed over the dummy's head by a wide swath. The second glanced off the side, snapping and dropping into mud. A third shot did not fly, and Jamis rolled to avoid Valik.
         "Sloppy," Endir chuckled, "I managed three shots on every hunt."
"And still missed?" Valik said, another blow ringing his ears.
"Let's see how you fare!" Endir snatched the mimic from Valik, handing it to Jamis.
         Valik relished in displays of prowess, eager to back his boasting. Endir gave the signal and Jamis charged. One arrow glanced off, and the second stuck into the lower curve, far from an eye socket. Unlike Jamis, Valik managed a third shot before evading, but it drove into the cloth horn, knocking it loose.
"Are you even aiming?" Endir said.
"Perhaps master should demonstrate as promised," Valik said.
         Laughter bounced across the field, and the dummy was returned to Valik. Their failure was amusing because this test failed to capture the full magnitude of the hunt. The pen was only thirty yards long, the participants slower than Oorlong's, and he didn't have them practice distracting the creature with horns or drums. It mattered not. Endir set his arrows and gave the signal. Notch, draw, thwack. An arrow tore into the dummy's head. Notch, draw, thwack. Another clean hit. Notch, draw, thwack, Endir extended a foot on the sidestep, and Valik stumbled into the fence, cheeks raked by splinters. Three arrows sat lodged in the dummy, but none of them had entered a socket, missing their mark by a hair.
         "Well struck," Valik grumbled.


"No, sloppy," Endir's tone softened, "Three hunts, and I returned empty-handed each time. Well... less than that on the last one. Give it another ten winters and you might find a party to take you on. At least you might live to recount your failure. Until then, chase these notions from your minds."
Jamis continued to avoid Endir's gaze, and defiance still danced in Valik's eyes.
         "Why not accompany us?" Valik said, "perhaps you might finally succeed."
A whip cracked off Valik's back. Arrogance of such measure was impressive, he had stones for one his age, but Endir's patience was spent. What would it take to keep this fool and his half-wit stooge alive? There was no hunter for a hundred leagues who could save them, and even if one was present, none who bagged an ivory horn sought a second. Ice trickled through Endir's veins. Did they expect him to intervene?
         "Hand over your bows," Endir said in a low growl.
"But master, we swear-" Jamis found his voice but lost it to the whip.
"Silence! I will not entertain further stupidity! Hand 'em over and make for the tannery."
         Over the next several days, Valik and Jamis never left Endir's sight. He collected them at dawn and set them upon any task to be found. There were denied partaking in hunts, beaten if caught with bows outside of the range, and returned home at dusk, ready to drop. Their parents were informed to keep close watch and alert him if they turned up missing. At first, they balked, then begged, and eventually ceased protesting, yet Endir remained unconvinced. His scar grew red from constant scratching, and nightmares plagued his slumber.
         "Twenty more each and quit crushing the feathers," Endir said.
Valik and Jamis mumbled an apology, gathered shafts and fletching, and shuffled back to the workbench. Bundles of fresh arrows sat in the fletcher's hut corner, nearing a gross in total. Endir bound another dozen and plopped them into the pile. Another day or two and he'd end the constant supervision, but their bows would remain locked away. He pondered what trials they must undertake to earn them back, and a panicked voiced called for him outside.
         "Master Endir!" Deandra rushed into the hut, blonde locks disheveled and tears streaking down her face, "please, father is in danger! Hurry!"
"Quiet lass, and speak plainly."
Deandra spoke with panicked sobs.
"Father and I went to check the boar traps, but a warg came along and savaged the catch. I ran but father was not behind me. Please help him!"
"Blast it! Did you not encounter another hunter?"
"No, I've been calling for one since entering the village, and fingers pointed me here."
         Damn the fates for this, but Endir had no choice. He thrust the whip into Deandra's hands and pointed at the hunched forms of his apprentices.
"Keep those two in sight. Beat them if they try to leave. Do you understand?"
         Her head bobbed, and Endir darted from the hut. His unrelenting vigil forced him to hand certain duties to other villagers, and Braxton had been more accommodating than most. The road out of the village was swallowed by an emerald canopy. Shade was welcome, but the air was thick as porridge and made every breath difficult. A path split from the road, leading towards the orchards, and Endir followed. Line after line of apple trees sat bordered by the forest. Workers called, eager for gossip, as he sprinted by, but he ignored their hails.
         At the far end of the orchard, a ravaged boar carcass hung from a broken wooden cage. Snarling and shouting reached his ears. Braxton flailed a snapped branch at a leaping warg from within a tree. Claws cut deep gouges in the bark, jagged stubs protruded from their original angles, and Endir skid to a halt. An arrow sailed into the beast's back. It yelped and spun around, eyes bursting with wild fury, and another arrow shot into its side. A chilling howl signaled its charge, but two more arrows halted its advance. Trembling, it thrashed on its side. Endir's knife flashed, and the beast went still.
         "Damn fine timing, my boy!" Braxton said, climbing down, "for sure I was a goner."
He kicked the warg and spat.
"Damned thing. Lost a fine catch today. But at least I'm still getting a new rug."
         Endir felt anger twist in his stomach. He needed to return immediately, but Braxton did not share such concerns. With desperate haste, a knife danced, and the warg's pelt separated from its body. Braxton carried the hide and tried to keep pace with Endir's long strides. The sun was at midday when he left the village, and it now approached mid-afternoon.
         "Not like you to be impatient," Braxton said.
"I dare not leave the whelps for long."
"Ah, that's right. I wouldn't fret over them. I'm sure you've set them straight."
A snort escaped Endir.
"I doubt that. Jamis maybe, but Valik is a special brand of uppity."
"Huh, reminds me of someone."
         Braxton had a point. When young, Endir was a handful and went through two different masters. However, by Valik's age, the beatings had humbled him, but not enough to blunt the desire to obtain Oorlong ivory. If the last hunt hadn't cost an eye, he might have considered Valik's offer.
         "True. But I hope both live long enough to appreciate my efforts like I appreciate what my masters did for me," Endir said.
         Braxton raised an eyebrow, and Endir remembered he did not divulge the reasoning behind their pilfering. They reached the orchard trail. Workers milled about, muttering in hushed tones.
         "Can you make it back on your own from here?" Endir said.
"Yes, yes," Braxton waved, "Get along now."
         Endir nodded and broke into a run. The afternoon crept on, and the heat reached an apex, slowing his pace back to the village. Wood fences and thatched roofs came into view. Spurred by their proximity and gentler air, he reached the fletcher's hut. It was empty. A vulgar roar rolled through the village, and Deandra appeared from behind the shed.
         "Is father safe? Where is-"
"He's fine and will return soon. Where are my apprentices?"
"Oh. They're out gathering sticks for fish traps. Said they broke yours, and you'd tan 'em good if they didn't have materials by sundown."
         Panic tore through Endir's body. The hunting shed door was jimmied, sitting ajar with a broken latch. Items previously purloined, and two bows, were missing. He scoured the western edge of the village, found Valik and Jamis' trail, and followed with chest tight and blood turning to ice. Forest yielded to tall grass upon rolling knolls. A shout came from behind, but he did not slow. Two hunters caught up, shouting questions, and Endir replied in quick barks.
         The party sped deeper into the grasslands, the sun on its downward arc, and a cool wind cutting through stuffy air. Legs filled with burning lead and lungs screaming, Endir's pace slowed. A guttural roar arose over a hill. An Oorlong charged across the field, arrows skimming overhead, horn bucking upward. It bore down upon a lone figure, and launched the form into the air, then turned to rush a second figure. Endir motioned at the hunters.
         "Circle around! Get the whelps out!"
They darted off and Endir descended the hill, struggling to prime his stuttering lungs. A horn sounded, four blasts, quick and deep. The Oorlong continued to rear and stomp, but another set of calls stopped its trampling. It whipped around, caught sight of the disturbance, and blitzed the source of its ire. Arrows sank tip first into the soil, and a shaking, white knuckle grip clenched the longbow. Endir forced a modicum of calm into his body, waiting for the quarry to enter firing range.
         The moment arrived. Notch, draw, thwack, the arrow glanced off the Oorlong's head. Its bellow sounded like a taunt. Notch, draw, thwack. An arrow shot into its fur. Blood trickled over thick, brown strands, staining it with streaks of crimson, but the beast was undeterred. Promises of death shot from yellow, grape sized eyes. Targets Endir could not hit. One last arrow before death; an admirable stand. Notch, the fletching was a glossy black from crow or raven. Draw, the bowstring felt heavier than usual and showed its age. Thwack, the arrow leapt forward, tumbling, twisting. A mountain of brown filled his vision, and his feet left the ground. An anguished howl filled the valley, followed by a thump, then silence.
         Clouds drifted overhead, guided by a gentle breeze. Endir gasped, blinked rapidly, and hands darted from head to foot, looking for injuries. Their search found neither blood nor broken bones, and a nervous chuckle bubbled in his throat. Through blurred vision, the Oorlong lay slumped a few strides away, unmoving. Trembling engulfed his body followed by a rush of weightlessness, and a tickle in his chest. Fourth time was the charm! Sharp hisses and groans ended the celebration.
         One hunter guided Valik by the collar. His hands latched at his side, where scarlet stained the tunic, and Endir felt a familiar rage return. The hunter snorted, it was a graze, and the bleeding had stopped. Valik was thrust to his knees in front of Endir. Despite the near death experience, impudence remained in his eyes, and he glared at the Oorlong's corpse.
         "Well struck, master," Valik said, wincing.
Were it not for the injury, Endir would have beaten Valik unconscious. At least the whelp would live to suffer that beating later. A jolt snapped Endir's head up, scanning frantically. The second hunter appeared with a limp, bloodied mass in his arms. There was a kind of anger that did not burn nor illicit sudden, violent outbursts. It stung like a winter storm, cold and piercing, and paralyzed body and soul. Hunters gazed at Endir, whose glare tore into Valik, who whimpered and looked around, mouth flopping open and shut.
         "Carry him," Endir said to Valik, "and next time, get no other killed but yourself."