Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (10 page)

Raising my hand with empty determination, I willed the tusks of the of the creature to bend. The animal whined in agony and violently tried to detach itself from the tree, yet its horns had been twisted around the perimeter of the sapling, fastening itself in place. T
he pig stopped for
a moment,
as it suddenly realized its predicament.
I could see fear and
desperation in its eyes. As I cradled my wounded side, I slowly stood up to meet the eye of the thing with resentment.
I craved the sense of power I had over the hopeless thing. With anti-magic, I could
torture it
in any way I wanted
for however long I wanted. A thin mist of blood flew from my lips as I coughed violently. Like a puppet on a string, I thrusted the sword upward, cramming the metallic thorn into the fat jaw of the beast. With one withheld squeal, the pig’s eyes turned cold. I fell as it did and shuddered as I hit the ground on both knees. I released the boiling heat in my hands with difficulty and saw the tusks of the creature soundlessly resume their original shape. I wretched from the effort needed to stay conscious.

“Preston,” I thought in between gasps. “I need Preston.” Twisting myself forward, I screamed when my trembling fingers tried to force my wound shut. My legs forced me off the ground for a second time, sending my head spinning in a fine white mist. Reality faltered yet I remained standing.
 

             
The dragon eyes off in the distance seemed only mildly concerned with my predicament. They focused on me with a sly sort of bemusement, as if I was a child overreacting to a cut. They blinked and spoke only two words. “You’re safe.”
              They faltered out of focus as Preston approached running, wordlessly shouting something. A question maybe? I shook my head and fell back to my ground, rattling my neck in the process. As he took me in his arms, I gasped as a startling cold was spread over my wound, instantly detaching me from my pain. I felt the skin under my shirt churn and quickly shut. Breaths were now longer, movements were now smoother. I rolled my eyes back and gave an involuntary quiver while slowly expanding and contracting all of my muscles one by one. My sense of hearing returned with the savage sound of Preston gasping for air. Looking over in alarm, he looked more frail than I ever remembered seeing him.

              “Food...” He whimpered while handing me a small metal container. “Flint inside,” He clarified wearily. “Cook food.” Without any further questions, I hastily scrambled together a pile of sticks to breed the fire and easily lit it with the flint. I sloppily butchered the animal using flat stones and soon had real meat roasting over the fire. I Ignored the overwhelming sight of the fat dripping off of the cooked steak before me, and instead handed it Preston who tore it apart within moments. Grabbing hold of a nearby stick, I withdrew a large meat medallion from the fire which glistened like an over-ripened berry. Taking a large mouthful, I gagged on the initial flavour. It was saltier and more bitter than your typical meat and would have been difficult to stomach had I not have been starving.

              “This was a Himathor,” I concluded after some time. I had copied travel guides which warned of a beast like this. A Himathor is capable of making apparitions of itself appear and disappear at will, often using this ability to lure in prey before killing it. I shuddered. Unfortunately it worked fairly well on me. “Thank you,” I whispered to Preston who stretched a single eyebrow up in response. “I’m sorry I left the tent without telling you, and I’m sorry I nearly got myself killed.” I added but Preston only rolled his eyes.

             
“Are you insane!?” he hissed suddenly. The quiver in his voice startled me.

“I saved our lives,” I insisted, still gesturing to the Himathor before us.

“You were nearly half a mile away from the camp and just about dead,” Preston responded. I stared at him completely abashed.

“How did you find me?” I asked carefully. Preston crossed his arms and twisted his neck uncomfortably.

“Your scream woke me up and after I got out, I saw a faint yellow glow off in the distance which turned out to be you.” I looked in amazement at the two deep dragon eyes who were overlooking the conversation.

“You helped Preston find me didn’t you?” I asked translating my dialogue into thought.

“You honestly think dying is an enjoyable experience?” they asked condescendingly. “Believe me mortal, I’d have lit up the entire forest before going a second time.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“All this trouble to save me and yet you still won’t take a name,” I said, scoffing silently. The eyes immediately melted into a sneer.

“You’re chatter is intolerable,” they commented dryly. “If it makes the mortal so very content, I will allow them to call me what they wish, under one condition,” they clarified sternly. “The very second I learn of my true name, I will be referred to as such until the end.” I nodded in understanding. Appearing somewhat satisfied the eyes continued: “What is it you will call me then?”

“Now?” I spluttered. “You expect an answer now?”

“Don’t test my patience boy. You name me now, or forever hold your tongue.” I brought my hands to my temples and thought for a moment. Then I thought for two, looking over the lapping blades of the fire which camouflaged the entity in front of me. I noticed that only the pupils seemed to be visible through the brightness. They hovered like deep umber chestnuts swaying in time with the fire. Suddenly I had a name.

“I’ll call you Umber,” I told him while sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll call you Umber whether you like it or not. I’ll call you Umber through rain, through snow, through every pain I know, though I know I’ll call you Umber.”

              Umber seemed to glow slightly brighter, however his placid expression remained fixed. “So be it Mortal.”

             
***

The two of us sat for a while in perfect silence, drinking in the morning sun which was now starting to creep in from the east. The fire, much to my surprise died down rather quickly despite my attempts to feed it. I asked Preston about where he had gotten the can of flint but he shook his head.

“
I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, shifting his weight away from me.

Confused by this response, I asked why.

“It’s going to make you feel worse knowing,” came the vague reply.

I arched an eyebrow and folded my arms tightly. “Preston, it’s a just a bit of flint. I think you can tell me.”

Preston seemed to shrink a couple of inches. He nervously licked his lips and twirled the hair on his head before sighing in defeat. “This goes deeper than you think Jacob. Are you sure you want to know?” he asked suddenly.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” I replied, now losing patience.

“Alright alright!” Preston said, quickly raising his hands. “The reason why I have this flint is because it was given to me.”

“Given to you?” I asked suspiciously. “Why were you given flint? You could probably survive just fine without it,”

“Yet the Caterwaul doesn’t like taking any chances,” Preston replied flatly. “As evil as he is, he doesn’t like seeing people with anti-magic die in the exams. He thinks it’s a terrible waste.”

“So he gave you the flint to make you more likely to survive,” I concluded with a hollow ring in my voice.

“Yeah,” Preston admitted weakly. “But it’s not just the flint though.” Everything about these tests is made easier for us. The test never changes Jacob, So we all walked in knowing exactly what to expect.”

“Why have these king’s exams in the first place then?” I asked, quickly standing up. “What’s the point of having the same test again and again if the Caterwaul wants everyone to pass?”

“He doesn’t want everyone to pass,” Preston corrected. “He only wants the Ickle-bits dead.”

I shook my head and sat back down, now more confused than ever. “Why do the Grimlars have to kill the Ickle-bits? The more people they have, the more labour they have.”

              “Yet it’s not slave labour they want Jacob. The Grimlars want warlocks who can fight. If everyone was kept, it would get too crowded. The Grimlars only want to keep and feed the people they think are important.”

              I held up a finger to interrupt however Preston kept on speaking.

              “The king’s exam has been around since the Grimlars were founded. It was meant to prove to the king that the Grimlars he employes all have the necessary skills and anti-magic they need to fight, but that’s not really the case anymore. The Caterwaul uses these exams to kill off all of the ickle-bits while letting every warlock live regardless of how strong they are. It’s a trick designed to kill people like you Jacob! That’s why I didn’t want you to know.”

              Stunned by this answer, I ran a hand through my course oily hair and took a moment to collect my thoughts. “Has an Ickle-bit ever survived the exams?” I asked apprehensively.

              Preston nodded. “Whenever the school or Castle Lambalatrate needs a few more servants, the Caterwaul makes sure that a few of the Ickle-bits survive. I don’t think any Ickle-bit has ever survived  The Forest without the Caterwaul’s help.”

              “We’ve loitered long enough,” I interjected, feeling suddenly sicker than ever. “We’ve got two days to go and it’s not going to do us any good if we wait much longer.” Preston numbly agreed and together, the two of us began slicing the remaining Himathor into much more manageable chunks, which we skewered and carried over our backs. Much to my dismay we ended up leaving more than half of the carcass behind, as Preston insisted what we had would be plenty of food for the next two days. With some reluctance, the both of us silently left.

As the
scattered trees gradually shrunk away, we were allowed onto a high platform which just brushed up against the frigid clouds.
My heart fluttered a
s
I looked across
the sneaking peaks and saw our flags standing on the very tip of the podium. Each one was equally large, with a golden grimlar’s helmet painted on the red fabric
.

“Umber can you tell how tall those flags are?” I wondered while squinting off in the distance. He didn’t respond. “Umber?” I repeated.

“You would do well to address your superior with common courtesy,” Umber jeered in a deep unearthly voice. I sighed weakly. “Umber, can you
please
tell me how tall those flags are?”

“No,” He spat after considering this. I swatted away the eyes in agitation which caused them to burst apart into a translucent white mist before slowly reforming. The action didn’t seem to hurt Umber, however watching him get viciously torn apart still made me feel better.

“It’s a simple question,” I insisted. Umber rolled his eyes.

“It’s a simple answer, however one we cannot know for certain. Questions are only questions and can neither be simple nor difficult, for only the answer is difficult.” he declared in a proud voice.

“Stop being such an idiot.” I growled from the corner of my mouth. “You’re making this hard.” Umber laughed.

“Your mortal head is making this difficult. I’m still right.” I smacked Umber away again but this time caught the attention of Preston. He stared at me and frowned at my apparent insanity. When he asked what was wrong, I lied and told him I was just swatting away a bug. The view from the mountains, overlooking the entire forest was an eerie reminder of all that had happened this past week. Off in the distance, the vague outline of the forest desperately tried to creep over the thin wall dividing the camp, however to no success. The camp seemed like a year away after all I suffered through.

“What if I were to survive?” I wondered suddenly. My goal was in proximity, Preston was by my side and I found anti-magic. It seemed like I was the most alive I had ever been. Sweltering with self satisfaction, I felt taller after every step despite nearly dying two days ago. Preston and I would soon be living together and just like that, every vision of every Ickle-Bit would be gone. I would never have to think about their deaths and I would never again have to worry about being next. I sighed a little.