Page 151 of The Hunter

Kneeling on the ground beside Telok with her side burning in pain, Lacey looked upon the dais with sorrow. She hadn’t known the four winddancers who’d fallen to the kurghests, but she knew they’d had families and friends, knew they’d been beloved members of their Nedrayas. But there was one silk-shrouded vrix up there she knew well.

Elharat.

He’d been a proud defender of Kaldarak, a protector, a watcher, a hunter. She’d gone foraging and hunting with him many times, and she’d heard countless hours of banter and arguments between him and Okkor. He’d often been the first vrix to greet her when she descended the steps of Kaldarak to wander the jungle, and the first to hail her when she returned.

Now, he she would never see his face again.

She turned her tear-filled gaze to Okkor. He knelt in front of the dais near Elharat’s body, head bowed, torso bent forward, and hands braced upon the ground as he shivered with overwhelming emotion. Though the two hadn’t been related by blood, Okkor and Elharat had been brothers in spirit.

The other thornskulls sat around him, silently mourning the loss of one of theirs.

Nearly the entire Nedrayas surrounded the dais, gathered to see off the deceased, their grief apparent in the gleams of their gemlike eyes. Sophia was sitting with Tas, tears streaming down her cheeks. Cole was next to her with his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him, his bandaged leg carefully stretched out before him.

The winddancer councilors stepped forward, each with a torch in hand and an embroidered ceremonial shroud around their shoulders, and stopped before the dais. All three bowed their heads and made the sign of the Eight before turning to face the mourners.

Nes’Kahn Shir stood straight, but her shoulders and mandibles sagged as though pressed upon by great weight. Kin’Jahl Jehk stood with his upper right arm bound against his chest in a makeshift sling and fresh silk covering the wounds he’d received the day before.

And between them was Kohl’Kar Sahn, who looked older and frailer than he had when Lacey first met him, his colors duller, his fur grayer. He spoke with the faintest quavering in his thin voice. “I have stood here many times in my years. Too many. I have watched too many pyres blaze in the shadows of these trees, and I have lit too many by my own hands. I learned as a youngling that all things become easier with practice…but this never does.

“We have lost many to the kurghests. None here ever wanted to lose more. But yesterday, brave members of our Nedrayas, our brothers, strode into the Tangle alongside our new friends to save us from the threat of those beasts, knowing well the danger they faced. Knowing the risk. They fought to defend our Nedrayas and ensure we and our broodlings will be able to live in the warm light of peace rather than in the cold shadow of fear.

“And today…we must bid farewell to five of them. Five vrix who gave their lives for the rest of us. Five vrix who stood against death, who battled until their final breaths, who acted as our shields and spears. Five lives…” Sahn’s mandibles twitched, and a shudder wracked his thin frame. “Five lives given to save all of ours. Our thanks will never be enough. But if I can live the rest of my days without the need to light another pyre, I will greet these brave fallen in the realm of spirits with all the thanks and love I can offer.”

“We shall carry them always in our hearts,” said Jehk, voice rough with emotion. “Syr’Kol Voon, Rokahl’Zen Sehk, Jas’Yun Kir, Ahk’Des Yit, and Elharat ki’Gralek, Shield of Kaldarak and Our Nedrayas.”

The councilors turned and extended their torches, touching them to the pyres. The wood ignited immediately, burning with blue-green fire.

When the three vrix stepped back, Shir intoned solemnly, “They will always be remembered, but no longer are they bound by their bodies of flesh, blood, and bone. Let these flames release their spirits so they may soar free, carried upon the wind. May we hear their voices in the sighing leaves, may we feel their presence in the caress of the breeze, and may they know peace forever after.”

As the flames spread and grew, Shir began humming. It was quiet at first, a single voice in a vast jungle, but soon she was joined by another winddancer, and another, until the Nedrayas was unified in song, swaying in place. The melody was soft and sorrowful, the tune drifting upon the wind along with the ashes of the fallen.

A vrix female approached the dais and dropped to the ground with two broodlings beside her. She wailed as she reached out and pressed her upper hands to the stone, scraping it with her claws. The broodlings, one male and one female, leaned against their mother and wrapped their arms around her, their wide, colorful eyes turned toward the flame-engulfed pyre before them.

Lacey’s chest tightened, and tears slid down her cheeks. She settled a hand against her side, trying to ignore the pain flaring with her every breath. These people had known too much loss. None of them deserved this.

The Tangle devours all.

Telok’s haunted words echoed through her mind. The endless cycle of life and death was the way of nature, and it was uncontrollable, inevitable.

Gentle fingers tucked Lacey’s hair behind her ear before brushing away her tears. She turned her face toward Telok. He was gazing down at her with somber, yet fervent eyes.

He slipped his hand into her hair and cradled the back of her head as he lowered his own, pressing his headcrest to her forehead. As though he’d read her mind, he spoke with quiet vehemence, his words meant only for her ears. “The Tangle will never take you from me.”

CHAPTER 37

As Telok and his companions stood before the winddancers at the base of the steps leading up to Tovuunshai, he felt echoes of the past again reverberating through him.

He recalled the first time they’d met the winddancers, and the first time he and his tribe had met the thornskulls before that. Recalled the first time he’d met Ketahn, Ahnset, Ishkal, Rekosh, and Urkot. Each of those moments carried weight and meaning that had forever changed him.

But time continued moving no matter its effects. It was a river, ever flowing, with calm stretches and rapids, with bends and falls, changing its currents and course at a whim. Eight days ago, the pyre flames had freed the spirits of the slain to dance upon the wind. Nine days ago, Telok had led the hunt to the kurghests’ den. Sixteen days ago, he and his companions had met Wen’Xal Tas, and had chosen to answer the winddancers’ plea for aid.

Twenty-one days ago, Telok had departed from Kaldarak, wondering how he would be able to protect Lacey while at the same time keeping away from her.

Careful of the bandaged wound on her side, Telok tightened his lower arm around his mate’s chest, drawing her more snugly against him. She leaned into him and placed a hand atop his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Everything had changed in less than three eightdays. Even now, he couldn’t understand how so much had happened during so short a time, couldn’t unravel the tangled threads of fate that had led him to this moment.

Yet he didn’t need to unravel them. He was here—they were here—and it was time to go home.