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| Untamed Posted by: Darren at 12-10-2016 03:56 AM, Last Modified 12-10-2016 03:56 AM |
I decided to retrieve this from my old Wordpress account, and proofread and correct any errors I didn't find at the time, so I'll upload it a few chapters at a time as I check. I almost finished it, but lost my motivation. I'm hoping now, years later, I can finally do so. Hope you enjoy.
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Prologue:
The last sword clattered to the ground, shortly joined by its owner.
Jason observed this from a distance, as insubstantial as a mist, helpless to look away as each warrior fell victim to the champion's bloodied blade. When all was still, the number of fallen foes horrified him. Strewn on the parched earth of the hill were soldiers decked in the customary armor of Sranthian legionnaires, young and old, final expressions of frozen defiance on their lifeless faces. Lying among the enemy are the bestial bodies of the Feral, already blurring back to human form in death. Sheer terror imprinted on the faces of man, woman and child.
Content with his work, the victorious warrior of Rallis leisurely turned to Jason
...no...
revealing
...not again...
his own eyes staring back at him from the blood soaked face of a madman-
NO!
-
Jason woke with a start, right hand closing around the hilt of his sword. Breathing heavily, he slowly unclenched his fist and tried to calm himself.
It was only a nightmare, same as always. Why are you so worried?
Because it's so close to the truth of my future, he thought, swinging his legs out of bed and easing himself off of his bunk.
Don't you want this? Wasn't life in the army your dream?
Jason shoved this voice away; there was no question, this is what he wanted. Besides he had no choice, he'd been conscripted. He had to serve the mighty Rallarian army for at least ten years.
Washing his face in the water barrel outside the recruit tent, he stared at the haggard face reflected in the water. His blonde hair hung limp from the moist, humid air, his blue eyes sunken from restless nights. He looked more dead than alive.
He mentally shook himself; look on the bright side, at least his training was almost over. After the final test tomorrow he would officially be part of the army, ready to face Sranthe on the field of battle. Maybe he wouldn't even be sent that far, he could be in a defense troop, protecting the inner communities from vicious Ferals.
Jason sighed, so why was he having these dreams? And why did they affect him so? They were only Ferals; they weren't worth pity. He steeled himself. He would pass the hunt tomorrow, and all these doubts would be left far behind him. There was no point in worrying; he had no other choice.
Consider yourself lucky you got conscripted, the alternative-
No, Jason thought, don't think about that.
He didn't change; he was one of the fortunate ones.
Not like Mira…
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Chapter 1:
"Pathetic!" yelled the drill sergeant, his mustache quivering with growing rage at his miserable excuse for a troop. "If this was a real combat situation, a Sranthian warrior would have skewered you long before your parries. And facing a feral, you'd be missing your throat and several limbs! Again!"
The recruits all groaned and reluctantly raised their wooden swords once more. Jason groaned the loudest. Four hours of non-stop sword drills? His arms felt like they'd been stretched on a rack, but he slowly raised his sword again with aching arms and looked up in time to be rapped on the head by his opponent, knocking him to the ground. Similar grunts of pain echoed along the training field.
"Useless, all of you! We may as well stop for the day, this is obviously the best I'm going to get." The sergeant sneered in disgust, and stormed off to his private tent in a rattle of chainmail, leaving the troop to nurse their bruises.
"Need some help?"
Jason looked up from the mud into the face of his sparring partner, his smiling face framed by curled brown locks, and accepted Trey's helping hand
"Good practice today." commented Trey,
"Yeah, if our purpose is to be comic relief" replied Jason sourly, "How are we supposed to kill anything with swordsmanship like this?" waving his hand at the recruits still sparring, flailing their swords like children having a mock fight, a few of them falling over after an overzealous swipe.
"That's not bad slashing actually." Trey observed.
"They're practicing lunges."
"Oh."
They made their way back to the recruit tent and changed out of their training gear.
"So, tomorrow's the big day eh?" said Trey, clapping Jason on the back while he was trying to pull his trousers on, causing him to overbalance and fall over for the dozenth time that day. "The final test, hunting a Feral! Think you're up to the task?"
"Of course," snorted Jason, picking himself up with a slight groan and strapping on his scabbard. "They're just beasts, it's hardly even a test."
"Come on or we'll be late for supper, I need something hot before I keel over."
As they left the tent, a thought occurred to Jason.
"Where do they get the Ferals for hunting anyway?"
"I suppose they capture them from nearby forests." Trey stopped to glance at Jason curiously. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason." Jason quickly replied, not wanting to share his recurring nightmares. "Now hurry up! If we're late all the good stuff will be taken!" He hurried off, uncomfortably fingering the beaded bracelet around his wrist, leaving a confused Trey to chase after him.
They walked out on to the mountain plateau, atop of which the training camp was built, a cluster of tents growing around the central stone mass of the keep like toadstools. The whole camp overlooked lake Asmeal and the distant city surrounded by the green mass of the forest. Taraunt, Jason's childhood home. As he looked out at his birthplace, Jason fell behind and had to sprint to catch up to Trey, who had carried on walking oblivious to his missing friend.
"So," Jason gasped as he reached Trey. "When's your test?"
"Next week" Trey sighed. "You're lucky, I won't see any action till then, and you'll probably be busy defending the kingdom. Oh well, with luck I'll be assigned to the same unit as you. We'll be heroes together!"
They entered the keep and made their way to the mess hall, a cavernous room with redwood rafters supporting the slightly domed roof high above their heads. The multitude of tables were bustling with activity as recruits laughed, drank and told tales of where they were from and what lay in their futures. Jason and Trey squeezed through the crowd and found some room at the nearest table, resting their weary feet and reaching for as much food as they could grasp, nimbly avoiding the arms and elbows of their fellow soldiers.
"So what area of the army do you want to be in?" Trey asked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
Jason thought for a moment. "Now that I think of it, I don't really know. I've always just presumed I'd be fine no matter where I was stationed."
"Well, I want to fight Sranthe at Battle Hill." Trey said. "At least then it's people you fight, Ferals creep me out."
"What do you mean?" Jason asked as he grabbed some more food. "It's just one more thing in the world that's trying to kill you."
Trey laughed at that. "Yeah I suppose, but it always gets to me that they used to be people. I mean, what if you used to know them? Would you be able to kill them then?"
Jason almost choked on the piece of chicken he was eating, and fully turned to face Trey.
"You can't think about that, they aren't people anymore" he said sternly, fingering his bracelet and growing whiter by the second. "Whoever they were, they aren't any more. The slightest hesitation and it'll be picking your face out of its teeth."
Trey shuffled back. "I know, I'm not an idiot. Chill out man, don't take it so seriously."
Jason breathed out slowly. "Sorry, let's just forget it and keep eating."
After eating their fill, Jason and Trey returned to their tent, ready to start a new day tomorrow. As he lay on his bunk, Jason struggled to sleep with all the doubts and anxieties floating through his head. He finally shoved them aside and settled down for what was hopefully his last night at the training camp.
Tomorrow I take the test, he thought. Everything will be fine after that.
What could go wrong?
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Chapter 2:
"There is nothing more savage, nothing as cunning, as a Feral. While some of you will fight the good fight against Sranthe at the borders of our kingdom, others will defend the farming communities from the Ferals attacking livestock and residents."
"Why do I even have to sit through this?" Jason whispered to Trey as the tactician droned on about the various enemies of Rallis, walking along the ranks of recruits in the class, his considerably large belly threatening to knock over the inkwells of the students with every turn. "I should be hunting a Feral right now, not learning about them!"
"Hey, this is important information," Trey whispered back. "It may save your life one day."
"Yeah, I could bore my enemy to death with a lecture. This is such a load of sh-"
"Do you have something to add to this lesson master Garell?" asked the tactician imperiously, who had managed to silently slip behind him despite his rather large berth.
Jason averted his eyes, blushing furiously. "No sir…"
"Good." The tactician cleared his throat and continued the lesson.
"As you should all know, our king lead the glorious Rallarian army against Sranthe just over a hundred years ago, to force the enemies royal adviser, the sorcerer Cairn, to show himself. This was part of a plan to defeat them once and for all. Can anyone tell me what happened during this assault?"
A young woman, only a few years younger than Jason, raised her hand. "He mopped the floor with us sir?"
The tactician chuckled. "Essentially yes. It was one of the most casualty ridden battles we ever fought. On what is now known as Battle Hill, Cairn faced our army alone, and almost killed them all. With every gesture, lightning flashed from the sky to strike warriors down, and the earth itself rose against us. The battle would have ended in defeat, and with it we would have lost the war, but for a single archer who, even after being speared through the chest by a bolt of lightning, managed to launch a final arrow at Cairn. This arrow hit his thigh, and the distraction was enough that nearby soldiers had time to tie his hands and fingers together, preventing him from casting any more spells."
At this, the same woman as before raised her hand again. "But sir, couldn't he just verbally cast?"
"I'm getting to that, would you wait!" spluttered the tactician, his multiple chins quivering with restrained rage. "We all know that you've pretty much memorized the coursework Nadine, but will you please let the rest of the class learn as well!"
Nadine sat back down, blushing at the laughs from her classmates. Jason barely noticed and leaned further over his desk. He only had basic knowledge of the Cursed war, and next to no knowledge of the origins of Ferals.
The tactician cleared his throat again and continued.
"Now, Cairn was thrown into the mud before our king, and as he knelt he spoke a curse; that if he should die we would see our true selves, that our primal and bloodthirsty souls would bring us sorrow. Seeing that he was bound and unaware of the abilities of mighty warlocks such as Cairn, the king laughed and parted his head from his shoulders with a single blow. With this death, the power of Sranthe was broken and the war was resolved, and several years passed without any indication that Cairn's spell had done anything."
"Until Tim Changed, right sir?"
"What did I just say!" yelled the tactician, glaring at Nadine.
"Sorry sir."
"If there are no more interruptions… You are quite right Nadine. A disturbance was reported in the slums of Taraunt, and when the local law arrived they only found a slaughterhouse, with the remains of the former residents scattered around a ferocious lion, which was slain immediately by the watchmen. As it died, it changed back to Timothy, the son of the victims, who only turned twelve a few days ago. When this was discussed at the annual town meeting, no one could explain it, until they remembered Cairns' last words. The king was terrified, and grew more and more worried as his people Changed seemingly randomly. Entire groups of the lands most learned citizens were dedicated to studying the phenomenon, and after a while a pattern was found: all of the Changed ones were affected within the week following their twelfth birthday. So, the Isolation law was passed, and all children turning twelve were taken to a holding facility and watched. All the Ferals were taken to forests and released, while the unaffected were returned to their homes. In recent years Sranthe has taken advantage of this internal weakness, and has restarted the war in an attempt to take our lands by strength of arms. This has forced our king to change the Isolation law to the Conscription law, and all men who remain unchanged are drafted into the army for ten years minimum, so you can blame Sranthe for being here at all."
Jason raised his hand, "Sir?"
The tactician sighed as he paused in his pacing, "Yes Master Garell? Would you like to disrupt my class as well?"
"No sir, I was just wondering what happens to the Ferals once they are released. Do any of them return to the cities?"
"Well obviously, otherwise you wouldn't have to defend the inner communities! I sometimes wonder about the intelligence of soldiers…"
Jason blushed, "No sir, I meant in a non-threatening manner."
The tactician turned to face him, "As I'm sure you are aware, Ferals do change between human and animal, but they are never human in their minds. Everything they were, all their memories and morals, it's washed away when they turn. They are nothing more than animals in human form, a 'wolf-in-sheep's-clothing' if you will. No one really knows what happens to all of them, but we guess they form their own communities, and as long as they stay away from us we leave them be. That concludes our lesson, dismissed!"
Jason and Trey packed up their notes and joined the crowd leaving the classroom, avoiding Nadine who was still packing her miniature library of books into her bags.
"So what was that about?" Trey asked, walking alongside his friend.
Jason shrugged. "Nothing, just academic interest. So why do you think they delayed my test?" he asked, changing the subject as they wandered down the halls of the keep.
"I don't know, could be a number of reasons, but at least you got some extra study time out of it. Lucky you!"
Jason scoffed. "Instead of a hunt I get to learn, lucky me. I can't wait till tonight. One good thing about the delay is that I get to hunt at night, it's more challenging that way."
Trey held his arm out to stop him.
"Wait, you mean you'll be hunting a Feral at night? Are you insane? That's when they're at their most dangerous, when you're at a disadvantage, unable to see where they are."
Jason shoved Trey's arm aside, "I know the risks, I can handle it." He carried on walking, and Trey dashed in front of him again.
"You're missing my point. The generals are putting you in unnecessary danger, this is completely against the code. You could be injured, and they might not be able to get to you in time."
Jason shoved him aside, "I said I can handle it!" He stormed off, leaving Trey behind.
"I know about Mira."
Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Trey with a thunderous expression. "What did you say?"
Trey swallowed, sweating profusely, and continued. "Before I was conscripted I wasn't that good a kid. I used to take walks that generally ended with me possessing something that belonged to someone else. First year here I broke into the records room, testing the security. Old habits die hard. I read your report, and it mentioned Mira. It wasn't your fault, you couldn't have changed anything, and dying for no reason won't bring her back."
Jason slammed his fist into his chest and Trey fell to the ground wheezing. "Don't you dare presume to know me." Jason breathed, glaring down at him with such heat that Trey could almost feel it burning into him. "And if you ever mention her again… I'll kill you." With that, he stormed off to prepare for the test, leaving his best friend alone to gasp for breath on the cold stone of the corridor.
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Chapter 3:
"You know the rules?"
Jason snapped out of his thoughts of Trey and focused on the sergeant talking to him. It was very different to be in a forest rather than the camp he'd known for the past four years, and the peaceful surroundings let his mind wander. "Sorry sir?"
The sergeant rubbed his eyes and sighed. "The hunt? Do you know the rules?"
"Oh, yes sir. Nothing but the clothes on my back and my weapons, and I can't leave without the collar as proof."
"Good, nice to see that you weren't daydreaming through the whole lecture. Now, your Feral was released an hour ago, so it should be well settled. Once you find it, kill it and bring its collar as proof that you succeeded." He walked past Jason and clapped him on the back. "Good luck boy."
Jason listened to the rustle of the disturbed bushes as the sergeant walked into the darkness until there was silence. Time to begin his hunt.
After a few hours of randomly stumbling through the foliage, trees and ferns as far as the eye could see, he had to admit that he was hopelessly lost. No sign of tracks, no disturbed bushes, no unusual scents, nothing at all to indicate that the Feral was here at all, and the moon barely provided enough light to see by. He was walking blind, and it seemed like he'd be spending the night in the wilds. He stopped for a rest by a meandering stream and filled his water skin, looking around him for leaves and sticks sturdy enough for a makeshift shelter. As he squinted at the banks of the stream a slight depression caught his eye. His spirits rose, a track! What luck! He stooped to examine it closer. Why didn't he listen more during his survival lessons? He could barely remember the lecture on animal traps, was it canine? Could be a bit wolfish…
The slightest rustle of leaves. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
The hunter had become the hunted.
He drew his sword and turned in time to receive a face full of fur as the Feral pounced, its weight dragging them both to the ground. Dazed by the impact, he slowly focused on the beast. It was a leopard, slightly smaller than him but heavier and pressing down on his chest, fur as black as night with gleaming fangs shining white in the darkness, eyes filled with hunger and fear. Its claws dug into his thick leather jerkin, its weight held him down as its jaws opened and darted to his throat.
Unable to move his pinned sword arm, he grasped at his belt with his other hand, drew his dagger, and plunged it into the creature's exposed left hind leg. The leopard roared with pain and fell to the side, freeing Jason's sword arm. He immediately swung his blade at its back, but it dodged out of the way easily.
They circled each other, the Feral wary and in pain. Jason kept his eyes glued to it; one lapse of concentration and it would be on him again, and he didn't think he would survive another encounter. The leopard was obviously thinking along the same lines, staring unblinkingly at him from the darkness. Without warning it pounced. He swung at it but it was a feint, and it hit him from the side with enough force to knock him down for the second time in as many minutes. He closed his eyes and braced for the fangs that would be tearing into his neck at any second, but instead of attacking it limped into the undergrowth.
Jason stayed on his back on the ground, still shocked by the suddenness of the attack, heart racing at how close he had come to death in just a few moments. He shook off his panic. It was still alive, still a threat, he couldn't just lie there. He rolled over and levered himself up, wincing at the pain of his bruised ribs, and cautiously walked towards the bushes the Feral had fled to.
Listening carefully, he heard ferns and branches pushed out of the way; it was dragging itself further away. Jason breathed in deeply: he had to be quick, kill it as soon as possible.
He charged through the bushes, but instead of finding a wounded leopard there was a girl only a few years younger than him. She was holding her gashed leg with one hand while dragging herself back with the other, her tear-stained face screwed up with pain, staring back at him with her terrified emerald-green eyes-
Jason almost dropped his sword.
Mira…?
With that thought, all the painful memories he'd tried to forget came crashing back to the surface.
-
New neighbors moving in, a young girl helping her parents unload the cart. Jason walking over to ask if they needed help, the girl thanking him …
Jason at Mira's eighth birthday celebration, both laughing as she cut her cake…
Jason and Mira pretending to be soldiers, fighting imaginary Sranthian legionnaires wielding stick swords and wearing sack armor...
Mira, a year older now, handing Jason a beaded bracelet she made for him, crying as he got on the cart that will take him to the holding facility…
Jason three years later sitting in the recruit tent, reading a letter from Mira's parents, tears peppering the paper as he learns that she Changed-
-
Jason tightened his grip, his face growing hard, eyes as dull as rock. This isn't Mira, this is the thing that killed her, the reason he lost his best friend a year ago, the reason he was put through that pain.
The Ferals' eyes grew wide in surprise. "Jason…?"
The sword shook as he raised it higher. How did it know my name?
"Please, please don't hurt me!"
Higher. Do it, before it's too late!
"It's me, it's Mira! Don't you remember? What… what are you doing?"
He hesitated, struggling to hate the thing that lay there. Menacing, evil, a sin against humanity… defenseless, pleading…
The sun poked its head over the horizon as he stood there staring down at his victim, morning light shining on the bloodstained figure lying before him.
He made his decision. The sword sliced into its target.
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"Do you reckon he's dead?"
Steve glared at Mark. "No, he's fine, just do your job and watch the perimeter will you?"
Mark settled back, leaning on his poleaxe. "I AM watching, and you know what I see? Trees! Hundreds of trees, probably thousands, and they don't look that menacing to me. We aren't guarding against anything, we're just here to make sure the recruit gets back safely. This is a waste of time, I could be sleep- what was that?"
Steve looked in the direction Mark was waving his weapon in and listened. "Could be that recruit you thought was dead, sounds alright to me."
Jason stumbled into the light, clothes bloody and torn, a bloodstained collar clenched tightly in his fist.
Steve walked up to him and gently pried the collar from his hand. "Well done son. Don't worry, your first is always the hardest. Any problems?"
Jason looked up and managed a crooked smile. "No sir." He croaked.
Mark joined them and clapped Jason on the arm. "No more of that. You're part of the army now, we're equals. Anyone fancy a drink?"
The three of them walked back into camp, Steve and Mark spurting endless congratulations and telling tales of all the luxuries of the army life. No one noticed Jason's haunted glance back to the forest....... |
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