Riders of Qiber part 7

Hi there! If you're new to this story, why not start at the beginning? oskila.deviantart.com/art/Ride…






Oss drained his cup and got to his feet. A series of creaking stretch exercises followed. The moment was clearly gone.

“I guess you're old enough now to know everything I know about your parents.” he said. “But it's not an easy story for me to tell. And not tonight anyhow. We have to get up pretty early.”

Kal wasn't sure she would get any sleep at all with a cliffhanger like that. She knew very little about her parents. Tired of being told that she'd get to know when she was older, she had stopped asking about them. She finished her cup as well and set about getting ready for bed. Her bedroll hadn't quite dried yet it turned out, but the combined heat of a good camp-fire and a sleeping moose would probably negate that. Oss was checking his hunting gear one last time. Somewhere a fox barked and apparently startled a tawny owl which gave a dopplered hoot.

“Just making sure.” said Oss. “I'll turn in in a minute. Good night Munchkin.”

“Good night uncle.”

The next morning Kal awoke at the crack of dawn, sweating and at the same tame shivering in the cold. Oss' blankets looked slept in, but otherwise one wouldn't be certain he had ever actually gone to bed, since he was sitting in the same spot as last night, going over hunting equipment.

“Well, you look worse for wear Munchkin.” he said “Want some willow with your breakfast? You can check your bow while I get it.” He walked away from the camp in the direction of a big willow tree. Salicin was crude as medicines went, but better than nothing for battling fever when sharpness of mind was required.

Kal's fingers went over the bow almost mechanically, checking for cracks, flaws, trouble. Like most naturals they knew of, the riders of Qiber were very good hunters, some of them extremely good. It wasn't out of pride or macho culture or anything ritualistic. It wasn't for their love of the hunt or for high status. To them it was a necessity – they viewed the hunting of animals a logical part of efficient survival in the wilderness. They didn't like it much, but since it kept them self-sufficient in meat, leather and bone they were prepared to overcome their aversion. To compensate, they designed their hunting methods to be as painless and stress-free as possible for the hunted animal, and only took what they really needed.

The nervousness had staid away for the whole trip so far, but Kal could feel it coming closer. She loved the long rides and the tracking, but the actual killing was so very horrible. To keep it at bay she meticulously scrutinised the bowstring. Then she checked all the spares. Then her uncle returned with a long strip of bark and soon a cup of steaming willow brew was in her hand. The bitter taste quickly overpowered most other sensations and placated the butterflies in her stomach somewhat.

“We didn't bring any honey, did we?” she asked, grimacing. Oss shook his head.

“Well, that's what I get for starting the diving season early then.”

Oss dug his battered binoculars (the naturals generally opposed technological advancement at the expense of nature, but didn't mind recycling) out of a bag and set off again, this time out of view. Minutes later she heard him whistling his easily recognisable steed signal. Bera shot off. Kal felt a sense of urgency and quickly got her hunting kit in order. She had just bridled Ting when Oss came riding back.

“The horses are moving this way,” he shouted. “Hurry! No time for saddles. We'll go back for the rest later.”

Kal managed to kick some sand over the camp-fire before she climbed onto her moose. She had ridden bareback lots of times, but never before when in a serious hurry. The first moments before she got a better sense of balance were so tense it made her legs ache. She followed Oss south as fast as she dared. The ground got higher and when she looked back she could see a mass of light-brown bodies moving swiftly over the grass. Then the herd settled into a trot and before long the horses seemed to have calmed down. The riders held in their steeds.

“Great,” said Oss. “They're between us and the campsite. I'm without weapons”. (The spears the riders usually carried were for protection and useless for hunting) He passed the binoculars to Kal.

“We could go around through the forest.” Kal suggested. In the binoculars she counted perhaps twenty grazing horses, and among the trees behind them - just visible over their ears - her yellow cloak flapped merrily in the wind on the branch were it was hung to dry the evening before.

“That would take half the day and we'd still risk startling them,” Oss replied. “I'd much rather just be done with it and home in time for dinner. String your bow. You're shooting today.”

Kal nearly fell off her moose. Up until now she had never killed something as large as a horse. The butterflies in her stomach were back and seemed to have brought some of their beetle friends. She realised he watched her intently. It was a test and he probably planned it all along. But there was also an indisputable logic there. Bows were personal for a reason. Borrowing an unfamiliar bow was likely to cause a lot more pain or stress than necessary. With a sigh she unslung her bow, fished a string out of her boot and dismounted for better leverage. Oss smiled a secretive little smile.


About half an hour later they were close enough to the horses to hear them. The moose were more or less sneaking, and the riders tried to lie as flat as possible on their backs, in effect hiding behind the massive moose heads. In the corner of her eye Kal saw Oss and Bera veer off to the right, aiming to get in between the herd and the river. She prodded with a toe and Ting picked up the pace slightly. She looked over at Oss again. He was pointing at a horse that had strayed slightly from the herd. An adult mare by the look of it, but with no signs of being pregnant or in heat. An ideal target.

With not more than a few hundred yards between her and the horses Kal gingerly picked up her bow and even more gingerly reached into her quiver for an arrow. Then she sat up and urged Ting forward into full gallop. Oss followed suit and she saw him and Bera speed off in great leaps.

Before the horse herd even had time to react, she had covered nearly a quarter of the distance. Now, in what felt like slow motion, she saw them turn their eyes toward her. They seemed to freeze on the spot briefly before regaining control of their bodies to turn and flee. With less than fifty paces between herself and the target mare Kal realised she had forgot to look for the stallion, which would almost certainly defend his herd. Moments later he came into her field of vision on an interception course. He almost managed to look surprised when Ting, without a trace of hesitation, jumped right over his head and continued forward. Kal on the other hand held on so tightly she feared her thighs would cramp up any second, but somehow she managed to stay on.

The lone mare was more or less caught between her and Oss now. The mare ran like the blazes for the relative safety of the forest line, but couldn't outrun the moose. Oss gestured wildly, which Kal guessed meant she was in range to shoot, but she didn't dare to. Not yet. Just a little bit closer. The horse attempted a mad dash to the left, but that only took her closer to Kal in the end. Kal's body was working mechanically now. Raise bow. Arrow on string. Pull. Aim. Hold breath. Release!

Sunlight glinted off the arrowhead's three prongs. The horse's adrenaline-pumped jugular vein stood out on its neck, thick as an arm. Then the arrow struck home. For a second or two, the horse didn't slow down at all. Then it fell over forwards and lay still. Kal dropped the bow and pulled the reins hard. She leaped off Ting before the moose had even stopped fully and ran towards the fallen horse. When Oss arrived shortly afterwards, Kal was cradling the horse's lifeless head in her arms and crying her heart out.