Book II - Exodus (Chapter 2)

He found out quickly that he had grossly underestimated his supplies, as he’d only been walking half a day before he realized he’d been stupid enough to go on this journey without any water or bread. Purpose was everything in the world until you had no strength left, then it would only seem a foolish dream. He cursed his pride, his confidence, for he had forgotten caution and had not thought ahead. He could die now, and it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault but his own. Forget the men trying to kill you, or the street-people who might try to mug you, you’ve done this to yourself. How could he have been so blind? To think he wouldn’t need nourishment on a journey that wouldn’t take him near another kingdom for almost a week? He could go back to Hatha, that was true, but he wouldn’t. He’d rather die than return there, and that was the truth. It was pride, stubborn pride, but the kingdom had done nothing for him while he’d been there and going back wasn’t going to help. He resigned himself to the path ahead of him, the one he’d chosen in the darkness of night. Erich had always made do, with Krutt, and in Hatha he’d done all right. He’d be all right here, too. Just stick to my feet, keep walking East. Stopping may become necessary as the sun went down; he didn’t want to end up walking in circles, but he could use the time to make weapons for hunting. He had no knife, no metal on him at all. A rock and a stick? He could make a sort of club with those, he supposed. Any beast he might find he’d have to outsmart, then beat it to death. Then he’d cook it…no. He sighed. He had no fire, no flint or steel. It wouldn’t work, any of it. He’d waste more energy on trying to get a beast to eat than he’d get back from the beast he’d eaten. Who was to say he’d even get one, anyway.

What are you saying? That I have to walk all the way to Rothkin without any food? Erich didn’t like it, but there was no other way. The tiny claw of hunger scaped at his insides and he sighed, knowing it would soon grow and multiply into many larger claws. Nothing he could do.

As the afternoon sun fell to its evening position, Erich walked on, Eastward.

***

That night he faced the first serious trial of his journey.

Dusk’s light winked out, leaving Erich without a sense of direction. He walked for a bit following the same track he had been all day, then decided he couldn’t trust himself to keep a straight line. Eventually, he knew, he’d make a small adjustment to the right, or the left, and the small changes would build up. He didn’t want to be facing away from the rising sun the next morning, with most of his previous day’s work undone. Instead he sat, facing East, and waited for the stars to peek through the atmosphere. His master’s tent, which he’d left at the death site of the four boys he’d killed three nights ago, would have served him well here. The chilly Northern winds tore through his meager clothing, and stung his skin. The grass around him became laden with dew, the cold drops adding their own efforts to his misery. Erich shivered, wishing he had the tent, some food, or that he was laying behind the bakery again, warm. He was, for the first time, regretting his stubborn resolve to stay away from Hatha. At least he’d be warm there, and he’d be eating. No, he knew he was right. He couldn’t go back. No matter how tempting it seemed, how much he felt like returning, it would be wrong to give in. Especially now, it would be giving in. If he changed his mind about this, what other things might he change his mind about once he returned to Hatha? Would his resolve to leave Meil weaken? Would he give in to the wishes of Breyda’s organization? No. He’d made a decision, and he would stick by it. He would be cold; no matter. He would be hungry; no matter. The journey ahead of him would not be easy, and he would deal with it.

The stars came out. Choosing a bright star as close to the horizon as stars came, directly in front of him, he was free to travel once more. He stood, wiping the dew from his thin cotton trousers, and began to walk.

A howl, sounding from closer than it should have been, froze him three steps from his sitting place. It was to his left, and he cocked his head that way, straining stupidly to see.

From behind him another howl sounded, closer this time, and Erich had a moment of déjà vu. There were wolfas, a pack of them, positioning themselves around their quarry: Erich. It was the same thing the boys who had tried to kill him three nights before had done. As he expected, a series of other wolfas answered the first. As the round ended, Erich counted seven wild voices calling from all directions, each one seeming closer than the last.

He was outnumbered – horribly so. And wolfas were not boys. One could make a run at him and leap for his throat before he had a chance to so much as blink. He’d be dead before he hit the ground, and the pack would eat. Fear clenched on him hard, and his gut made a swooping dive as his heartbeat doubled its tempo.

Erich looked about for a weapon, knowing that without one he would be ripped apart by seven shredding snouts. But the plains were bare, starlight showing him only waves of flowing grass. Anything useful would be buried, and he’d have to pull up the deep-rooted tufts of grass to even have a chance at finding a rock that was even moderately sized. A rock would do little to a pack of wolfas. Had he been in a forest, among the trees, he might have had a stick to ward them off with, and the option of a tree to climb. Here, he was easy prey. He would have no weapon.

The decision was made, had perhaps been made even before he looked about for a way to arm himself. He would need his power. The power he’d used to destroy the gang of boys that had mugged him. Despite his decision, a bout of uncertainty dropped on him. Would he be able to call on it? What if it didn’t work again in the same way? He anticipated that if the wolves came one by one that he’d have to use his power several times, to equal results. One wolfa could take him down, if his power offered him no more protection. Pushing aside a deep unbelief that his power was anything more than a fluke, Erich struggled to remember how he’d felt the first time he’d used it. There had been rage, a great sense of unjustice, and pain. He felt none of those now. A wave of despair washed over him. Oh gods of the night, of the sky. I’ll be dead before I’ll have the power to save myself.

Standing there in the cold night, guts clenched in a roiling torrent of nerves and fear, Erich became angry with himself. His decision to push on to Rothkin had sealed his fate, ensured that he’d die alone in the wilderness. It had been foolish pride that kept him from returning to Hatha, where at least he’d be safe.

As his frustration with himself mixed with his fear, Erich was surprised to feel something new in his gut. Something he’d felt the night he’d killed the gang of boys. It was the power, or some of it, and it was building an electric fire of strength within him. He clenched his fists, no longer feeling the whipping winds that had pierced him like daggers of ice.

The first wolfa howled again, this time from Erich’s left shoulder. He turned his head in that direction, and was not surprised to see the dark canine shape advancing. It was cautious, edging forward at an angle. The other wolfas made no answer, but Erich knew the howling was no longer necessary. They could see each other now, and the boy looked about, spotting three of the other dark figures advancing. His fear had dwindled, like a failing candle, and now he knew that he would fight, either to his death or to theirs.

Erich didn’t bother keeping track of all the wolfas, he just kept his eye on the leader. If the order to attack came, he would know at once. But the leader made no noise. It came closer, and finally stopped about four body lengths away. Erich could see the reflection of the stars in its eyes, and its breath made steamy imprints in the air.

It bared its teeth and made a low, throaty growl. Was that it? He cocked his head to listen for approaching bodies cutting their way through the grass toward him. No. It hadn’t been the attack symbol. The leader sniffed, snaking its tongue out to taste the air as well. When it was done, it looked at him. Erich looked back, staring defiantly into the beast’s eyes.

After what seemed a very long time, the wolfa did something Erich had not been expecting. It turned, and began to pad away. Muttering a low howl, it began to run, and from his sides six other dark shapes billowed past, straining to catch up with their leader.

Erich stood stunned as his adrenaline levels dropped to zero, and then a joy so ridiculously complete enveloped him. He had won. Without lifting a finger, or shouting a word, he had won. The power within him remained unused, and now it returned to its dormant state. He was a boy once more, standing alone in the middle of a desert of grass. He laughed, listening to the way the sound felt in his ears, and noticing it being carried away by the winds. It was a happy time, that, and he shared it with no one. He had looked the face of his death in the eye, and it had fled. He laughed again, louder this time, and let himself be carried laughing into the East, following the star he had chosen earlier.

When again the morning came be was pleased to see that the rising sun had only drifted a degree to his left, and he adjusted automatically. He felt at peace with himself, and with the world. Hunger attacked his body but he ignored it, as he did his thirst. Sooner or later he’d find something, it was eventual. He just had to keep himself on his feet, and the more time that passed without replenishing his body’s needs, that task would become harder.

Erich recalled his standoff with the lead wolfa, and became increasingly grateful that he had not been forced to use his power. If he had done so, and won, he would be travelling the open plains in a stupor, stumbling forward until he had the idea to drop for sleeping. When again he woke up, he’d most likely be too weak to go on, but he would try. The whole journey might have been compromised, if the wolfa hadn’t stood down. Erich replayed the moment in his mind repeatedly, finally coming to the conclusion that the lead wolfa had sensed the power writhing in his stomach. It had been deterred from sending its pack at him, as Erich’s whole aura had been smacking of wrongness. Wolfas were strong, but that did not stop them from being cautious. It was too bad Jerika and his crew hadn’t shared the same trait.

Whatever may be awaiting him on his journey out of Meil, wolfas were no longer a fear. And that was a satisfying knowledge.