Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 25 - Great-tusk spoor
🕑 Added 2025-01-12 09:34:50 +0000 UTCFor five days we trudged north through the forest. We weren’t attacked by any more animals but the warriors kept a careful watch anyway. Each night I set my snares and deadfalls, each morning I harvested the bodies and Souls of my victims. I was saving the Souls. I had a feeling I’d need to invest them in my magical trees before I continued to increase my level and was looking forward to the fruits of the Kend, hopefully I’d gain enough to jump in power considerably.
As we broke out of the seemingly endless trees I was greeted by the tundra, the colder cousin of the steppes where the Areskyn lived. Low grasslands, already crispy with frost on a morning, stretched away as far as I could see. I had kept to myself the fact I now had access to iron and crude steel items in the Shop. Kril would no doubt begin spending my Souls before I had them if I explained the significance to him.
“Is it all like this to the north?” I asked Kril as he stopped next to me. The old man had been taciturn since the attack but his cackling had rung out more frequently over the last couple of days.
“No. Heavy forests lie a week to the north then the ice takes over. Further on than that doesn’t matter,” he replied.
“Why not?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Because nobody goes that far north, boy,” he chuckled. “The big cats and the Ur-Viles rule that way.” He spat towards the tundra ahead of us. “We’ll stay by the forest and venture out during the day to find the great-tusk herds, then retreat back here at night. You’re done walking for a while. Your future consists of running and dragging heavy loads back here.” This time he cackled properly and I smiled to see his old nature coming back to the surface.
“The vile-cats don’t count as big?” I wondered.
“Forest kittens,” he said with a scoff. “Their kin out there are much worse. Pray we don’t cross their paths.”
A new camp was set up, more permanent than before. I helped the warriors cut down sapling and smaller trees to create sharpened stakes that were hammered into the ground. It took most of the morning but by noon we had a triple ring of sharpened wooden spikes surrounding the tents.
“Hermand, Jandak, Hatrikos and Hatrikend. You’ll take the Kendyn north this afternoon. Don’t stray far. You’re looking for spoor and sign of a herd, not to get three prizes on the first day. Understand?” barked Hatrikilo. The other men nodded and began pulling additional spears and torches, short sticks wrapped with pine resin soaked cloth, from the packs the aurox carried.
“Why the torches?” I asked Jandak before we set out.
“Fire scares the big bastards of course. Reckon you can keep up, Kendyn?” he asked. I smirked and nodded.
We set off at something between a jog and lope, leaving the other warriors, Kril and the women to finish setting up the camp. We’d each been issued a pair of thick leather bags that had been heavily waxed. I wasn’t entirely sure why but I’d refrained from asking in order to avoid looking more ignorant than I was.
We ran for a few hours, stopping twice. The first time Jandak and the rest had checked on me like I was a child. The second time when they were all red faced and gasping for breath I’d merely grinned and hefted my borrowed spear. After some grumbling and complaints about how unfair the gods were we’d set off again. I kept my opinions on the unfairness of the gods to myself.
“What is it, Kos?” I asked as he waved us all to a stop. I was the only one still breathing comfortably after the long run. Hatrikos glared at me good naturedly and waved a hand at a depression in the ground.
“How can you not smell it?” he muttered. “Great-tusk spoor. We should spread out to find other traces to work out their direction.” Jandak and I were left alone as the others took quick drinks from their waterskins and began to circle around our location.
There was a ripe, earthy smell in the air and when I investigated the place Hatrikos had pointed I found what resembled a very large splat of horse muck. It was thick with grass woven through the more moist parts and smelled like farms back home to me.
“What are Ur-Viles?” I asked Jandak as we tried to watch every direction at once. He snorted then spat. It seemed spitting carried some symbolic weight among the Areskyn.
“You know the cats were vile-cats?” he asked as his eyes tracked the small shapes of our allies as they ran away from us.
“Yeah. Bigger and meaner than normal cats,” I offered.
“Ur-Viles are men, but bigger and meaner. The shortest of them are half again as tall as you. The old ones can be three times your height,” he grimaced. “They aren’t to be trifled with, understand? However strong you are, if you see a pack of Ur-Vile slavers, you run. Understood?” His voice was harsh.
“I understand. So they’re giants?”
“Aye, and mean as well. Don’t take those bastards lightly,” he grumbled. “It’s like dealing with a child who could rip a wagon apart with his bare hands. No offence, Kendyn!”
I chose not to take offence at being characterised as a child. In many ways I was like an infant, ignorant of the threats these people grew up being aware of.
The scouts ran back to us shortly afterwards and Hatrikend led us to the west as he’d found more evidence of the herd’s passing. We ran hard and fast. If we could spot the herd today we’d be well placed to chase them down tomorrow, perhaps getting the three kills Kril had claimed Aresk demanded of him. Then we could return to the warmer climes in the south before the tribe moved to their winter pastures.
On the horizon I began to make out the lumbering shapes of huge hairy things. Sure enough they were mammoths, cropping the short grass as they moved along the treeline of the forest.
“Not vile-mammoths?” I asked as we skidded to a halt perhaps fifty metres from the herd. There were ten of the mighty beasts and they were three metres tall at the shoulder. A couple of younger smaller creatures had been moved into the centre of the herd and some of the larger ones were eyeing us warily, but they didn’t seem overly spooked by our presence.
“No. These are the normal sort,” replied Kos with a laugh. I could only imagine how terrifying vile-mammoths would be. As I considered how many Souls they might be worth I felt my inner greed perk up and rub its hands together. “We’d be running the other way if they were vile!” Kos finished.
“How do you normally kill them? I asked.
“They don’t like the fire,” said Jandak as he pulled some tinder and a fireboard from his pack and knelt to begin spinning the rod into the board. “So we go in with torches lit to separate one out then poke it with spears until it bleeds out. It can take a while. That or we chase them down for a day or so,” he muttered.
I waved a hand at the torch Jandak had laid out to light from his kindling and the tip burst into flames. Black smoke rose up from the pitch soaked wadding. He snorted and picked it up to offer it around to the rest of our small team who lit their own torches.
“That is cheating, Kendyn,” he said with a smile. “While we’re here, how about we try and take one? That bull has a bad back leg and should be easy to split off from the rest.” The other warriors nodded and moved out to form a line. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to be doing, the rest seemed to know instinctively and didn’t have to communicate as they swept forwards.
The mammoths spooked as we got closer and they began to run, great earth-shaking footsteps rumbled away from us but we tagged along, never letting them get too far ahead. Soon enough the bull with the bad leg was lagging behind somewhat but this seemed like it would go on for hours.
I sped up, sprinting past the others and earning startled yells from a couple of them. I cut between the straggler and the herd, waving my torch above my head and shouting at the top of my lungs.
“You fuckers go that way! You’re toast mate! You need to go- oh shit!” The bull had spun towards me and swung his tusks in my direction. I’d gotten too close and had to leap backwards, rolling across the grass, to avoid his swipe. As I came back to my feet I checked the herd behind me was still retreating and thankfully they were. I’d successfully separated this monster from his family. This left me in the uncomfortable position of being dozens of metres ahead of any support and all alone against a prehistoric mammal that could smash me into paste with one foot.
I heard the others calling to me but my attention was focused entirely on the creature glowering at me from beneath its shaggy eyebrows. I began to sidle to my right, hoping to turn it’s back to my compatriots but it stepped sideways to follow me, surprisingly daintily considering its bulk, as it continued to glare at me.
I waved the torch in its face and it backed off slightly. I took my opportunity to blur past the dangerous tusks and plant my spear in its cheek. He reared backwards and slammed his feet down, knocking me sideways into a tumble but failing to pulverise me. As I came back to my feet the others arrived and the monster spun to face them, seeming to forget about me. I threw my spear overarm, launching it with all of my augmented strength with the singular purpose of making the crude stone tip pierce the thick of the beast neck. I was aiming for a spot behind the thick plates of the mammoth's skull and praying that it would lodge in the beast's spine, crippling it.
A strangled trumpeting noise escaped the beast as it collapsed, losing control of its limbs. I staggered backwards a few steps then approached cautiously. Wild eyes rolled as I looked down on it from up close and I drew Gedrik’s dagger. I pulled the sharp blade across the creatures throat several times, gradually slicing through the thick hide and fat until a crimson spray shot out from the throat.
I staggered backwards and fell on my ass.
Normalis Mastodon slain.
Twenty Souls gathered.
“Oh great. Now we need to harvest the bloody thing and drag it back to the fucking camp,” snapped Jandak. “Brothers, having a Kendyn in the party is a pain in the ass.” I waved a hand weakly at the others who grinned at me. There was a glint of respect in their eyes for me as they set about butchering the animal.
The skin was cut away in two pieces which were bundled on themselves so only the fur was facing outwards and tied with cordage to hold them together. They didn’t bother gutting the beast properly. Once the available skin was removed long sections of meat and fat were removed and loaded into the waxed leather sacks we’d carried with us.
“You’ll need this,” said Jandak as he offered me one of the round stone maces that seemed to be the mark of a warrior in the tribe. I looked up in confusion. I hadn't helped with the butchering, merely carrying the slabs of meat and fat to fill our sacks.
“You’ll be quicker at breaking the tusks out of the fucking things head,” he said happily. “Crack on!”
I took the mace and approached the head. The tusks were a metre and a half long. The yellowed ivory shone faintly in the sunlight as I tried to figure out the best way to go about my task.
“It helps if you hit it really hard!” smiled Kos as he sliced away at the fatty meat on the beast back.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Strike the bones behind where the tusk grows,” offered Hatrikend. “That’s usually the easiest way to loosen them up.”
I took his advice. My first blow sent shivers up my arm as the reverberations of the mace slamming into the impossibly thick bones echoed through my limb. Five more times I stuck until the bone finally splintered and I pulled the first tusk free. I tossed it behind me causally despite the weight of the thing.
I grabbed the other tusk and used the leverage to reposition the head so I could strike the right spot to free it. It only took three blows, and some careful slicing with my knife, to free the second one.
“You’re fucking carrying them back. Keep the mace, Kendyn,” said Jandak as he gave me two heavy bags filled with fatty meat and nodded at what looked like a hundred kilos of freshly harvested ivory with a toothy smile.
