Tagritha's Story --Prologue-- Piar awoke with a start. Was that a targran? Then he realized the sound that awoke him was knocking. Surely no targran would announce their presence. He lumbered out of bed, wondering who would come visit so late - and in the rain, too! He opened the door to find a small figure hidden in a cloak, holding a bundle that was most likely a baby. He stared for a moment. “Who are you?” He finally asked. “Uncle Piar? I am Teir’s daughter.” She replied. Her accent was strange. It was hard to place, but she pronounced some of her consonants oddly. “Teir? He ran away! I haven’t seen him in ages!” Piar exclaimed. “How could you be his daughter?” “If you haven’t seen him in very long, ” she replied, “how do you know he doesn’t have a daughter?” “Let’s discuss this inside.” Piar said hastily. He led the girl to his kitchen table. She sat down, and unwrapped some of the cloth from the bundle. There was indeed a baby inside, but a strange baby. The infant looked similar to a targran, but with creamy brown skin instead of black and with ears were higher on the head and pointed. “Who’s that?” He exclaimed, gesturing at the infant. “My half-brother.” She replied, standing up and stepping back a bit, holding the child. Then she put her hood down, revealing her face. He gasped when he saw her. Though she definitely resembled Teir, she was clearly not an ordinary krikal. Her face was a dark reddish-gray color, and her eyes and hair were dark. Also, even with her mouth closed he could see two fangs. She looked like a cross between a krikal and a targran. She probably was, he realized. He’d heard stories from the northerners of the sorcerer who crossed targran and krikal, but thought they were just stories. But here was this creature who looked in between targran and krikal and said she was Teir’s daughter… “You may have guessed what my mother was.” She commented. “Will you recognize me as kin? Or attack me as targran?” “When Teir left, ” Piar responded, “it felt like my heart was torn out. What do you know of him? Is he still alive?” She looked at Piar. “I never met him. I have no idea what became of him, but my guess is he is still with the sorcerer who created me.” “If you never met him, why come here?” Piar asked. “Mother is dead. Before she died, she told me to go to my father’s kin. She said krikal put great importance on kinship, and that I might as well side with the winners.” She replied. “But she warned me she didn’t know if you’d accept a targran’s child as kin. I truly need to know – will you accept me as kin? Or should I start running away?” “You can stay. But you are not to harm anyone, and you must prevent your half-brother from doing so as well.” He replied. She sat down. “Does that include frin?” She asked. “No, but you must have permission to kill frin, from whoever the frin belongs to.” He smiled slightly. Then he added. “Basically, I expect you to follow the rules my own children follow.” She nodded, gazing at the baby in her arms. He’d slept through all of this, but was now starting to fuss and suck his fist. “What’s your name, by the way?” Piar asked. “You know mine, but I don’t know yours.” “Tagritha. And he is Grio.” She replied. “He is hungry.” Piar went and mixed up a drink of egg yolk and sugar. He handed it to her, along with a cloth. “Dip the cloth in and let him suck on it.” He told her. She nodded, head down, and did as instructed. Soon the baby was again sleeping contentedly. --Chapter 1-- Regr walked along the road, head down. He wanted to turn back. He could just go back and ask his aunt if she could look after him as well as his brother and sister, and earn his keep by hunting frin. But he knew that way of life was dangerous. Not that what he planned to do instead was safe. But a warrior endured danger so others wouldn’t have to. If a hunter’s dealing with danger had any effect on those who followed, it was to make it worse, since the krikal got wary. He wanted to end it. He wanted his brother and sister to live in a better world than the one his parents had lived in – and died in. He was looking down, thinking, and didn’t even notice her until she came near. She was the strangest-looking targran he’d ever seen, with light grayish skin and white hair, not the usual black hair and skin. And her eyes were pink! He jumped when he saw her. “Startled you, little guy?” She smiled, a bit mockingly. Her voice sounded a little bit odd. It was hard to describe – kind of muffled. “I’m not little!” He replied angrily. “Sure you aren’t.” She was walking beside him now. “That’s what they always say. Going to join the army? Because chances are they’ll want someone older.” “I can fight!” He retorted. “No doubt. But you are quite young.” She grinned, with the look of someone who’d just had an idea. “I bet I could easily beat you.” “You? No way!” He replied. “You may be taller, but I’m stronger.” “You’re skinny and underfed.” She replied, looking him over critically. “Maybe you were strong once, but not anymore.” “Prove it! Prove I’m not strong!” He retorted. “I’ll fight you, and I’ll win!” “Don’t be too sure.” She looked at him. “All right, claws sheathed. Let’s go.” They fought, and she won fairly easily. When she had him pinned, she looked at him for awhile, and said: “You will be an excellent fighter, once you’ve grown a bit and got some food.” She let him up then. He didn’t mind losing. He was younger and thinner, after all, and she’d said he’d be an excellent fighter! “By the way, I’m Krefira.” She added. “I’m Regr.” He replied. “Why are you so pale?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was born this way.” She looked at him. “Why are you joining the army so young?” “No parents.” He replied. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “Mine are fine, unfortunately. I take it you cared about them?” “Yes!” He replied emphatically. “Of course I do!” “Well, you’re lucky. Though they’re dead, you must’ve had some good times with them.” She shook her head. “I don’t care about my parents, they don’t care about me. We’re both glad I left.” He stared at her. It made no sense to him. He’d give anything to have his parents back, and she didn’t want hers? They arrived at a krikal city late in the night. As they were walking along, she pointed out a large wooden thing, with a seat at the top, four metal wheels and some kind of wooden arms sticking out of the front. “Look at that thing.” “I wonder what they’re for.” He replied softly, touching one wooden arm with one hand. “They tie horses to it and make them pull it around.” She informed him. “You know what horses are, right?” “That’s what horses are for! I thought they were some kind of krikal food, except there were old ones and you don’t see old frin very often.” He said. “We ate horses. They’re great food, although they’re a bit big. My father sometimes caught one and dragged it home for us.” She commented. “He must be strong.” He said. She looked at him and didn’t reply. There was an awkward silence, and then she exclaimed and dashed forward after a rabbit. She caught it and started eating, blood running down her pale face. Then she handed the rest of the rabbit to him. “Thanks.” He replied. “You’re fast.” “So how good are you at hunting?” She asked him, wiping blood off her chin with her hand and licking her hand clean. “I could hunt frin, but I haven’t learnt to hunt krikal yet.” He replied. “My father took home young krikal for me to kill, but I wasn’t good at it. They squirm too much. And after he died, it was too risky to take home live krikal.” “You’re really young then. I thought you were older than that. You act older.” She looked at him curiously. Another silence followed. They continued walking through the silent town. “Look!” She exclaimed softly, pointing out a krikal child, about a foot tall. “Must be up early. Well, see if you can catch it. But run if the lights go on or any other krikal make sounds.” He nodded. “I know that much.” She stood watching a safe distance away while he crept forward, hidden by shadows. Then he grabbed the child and started running over, while the child screamed. The lights went on in the house and krikal started yelling. “Rip its throat! Rip its throat!” She screamed, as he ran over. He was panicking and just kept running. Then he processed what she was saying, paused and tore out the child’s throat, while a krikal opened the door. “Run!” She grabbed his shirt and tugged, almost overbalancing him. They ran into some bushes and raced through, clothes and skin getting torn by brambles. They emerged not far from the buggy. Them they slowed down. “No sign of them.” He commented, gasping. He tore into the child’s body. “Krikal meat! I’d almost forgotten the taste.” “No wonder you’re thin! When did you last have some?” She asked. “Before my mother died. A month or so?” He guessed. She shook her head. “We should find someplace to stay for the day.” She changed the subject. He handed her what was left of the child and nodded. She handed it back. “You eat some more.” “How about the wagon?” He asked, before taking another bite. “Sure.” She smiled. They climbed inside and fell asleep under the seat. Regr awoke to find the wagon moving. It was uncomfortably bright, so he had trouble making things out, but there were two krikal legs hanging over the seat and he could hear horses walking. He looked at Krefira. She pressed her fingers to her lips, and started looking out a little hole on her side. He yawned and lay there, gazing at the two legs. He took one of the krikal child’s bones and started gnawing on it. She glanced at him and gestured for him to put the bones in her pack. He did so, and lay there, getting drowsy. Then she turned away from the hole and pointed to the krikal’s legs, snapping her teeth in an exaggerated manner. Instantly alert, he crept forward. Then they each bit an ankle. The krikal screamed and started kicking frantically. Krefira was too heavy for him to move, but Regr got dragged out. Immediately, he leapt up and clawed the krikal’s face. Horses screamed and rolled their eyes in terror, lifting their front legs and kicking at the air. The light blinded the two targran, but feel and smell were enough for them to kill the krikal. He let out a gurgling cry as Regr ripped out his throat. Then Krefira tried to soothe the horses, but they were scared of her and started galloping. The reins broke and snapped back, while the wagon crashed into the ditch. It jarred to a stop, smashing them against the front of the wagon. “Let’s drag it away.” She said, grabbing the krikal. They hauled it into the shade of a tree. Then they ate as much as they could in a hurry. After they had eaten so much they couldn’t eat any more, they dragged the rest further, hiding it among some bushes. Then they left, heading further from the road, then curled up under some fallen leaves on the ground. “Next night, where do we go?” He asked. “Don’t worry, I know where we are.” She replied. “After all, we just go to the mountains. They live in caves in the mountains. And what could be easier than finding mountains?” --Chapter 2-- Tagritha and Grio sat in Piar’s field, watching the frin peck at the seeds they offered, surrounded by nests, many containing frin eggs. Tagritha was on the verge of adulthood, a strange-looking girl. She knew that unlike her cousins, she was not considered beautiful. Instead, she was just strange, with her part targran, part krikal looks. Grio had grown into a little boy, with dark brown skin, high, pointed ears, sharp pointy teeth, a flattened-looking nose and full lips. She thought of him as incredibly beautiful, but he looked even stranger than she did. She watched Grio as he crouched and followed a row of frin chicks following their mother, humming a tune to himself. He looked so much like his father. Tagritha grimaced at the thought, because Grio was much nicer than his father had been. Upbringing mattered quite a lot, she supposed. His father had probably been brought up to be hateful and mean to anyone different from him. Grio squealed with excitement, clasping his hands together, when the frin found the grain he’d left, startling them into running away and jolting Tagritha out of her thoughts. “Why’d they run away?” He asked his sister in the targran language. She insisted that when they were alone together, they must speak that language. He must be fluent in that language, because she planned for him to spend much time with targran once he was older. “You startled them. Look, they’re going back.” She replied. Sure enough, they were cautiously checking out the grain again. Shortly afterwards, they heard a cracking sound from one of the nests. They looked and saw an egg rocking. The frin mother excitedly began flicking her foot at it. Once, frin pushed the egg from side to side to encourage the baby inside, but frin eggs were now too big and frin now pushed too weakly for that to occur. But the instinct remained. Grio watched, riveted, as the frin egg developed a crack in it. They saw a little bump sticking out of the crack - the frin’s egg-tooth - and then the whole head came out, gradually followed by a wet, big-headed, featherless chick, who blinked and then looked up and peeped. Grio echoed the sound softly, as Tagritha fed it a seed. “Let me try.” Grio insisted, seeing what she was doing. She gently guided his hand as he put a second seed in the frin chick’s mouth. Another egg was cracking now. Then the baby’s head came out, followed by the rest of it. As they watched this one, the frin mother reached over to nudge the egg of the first chick, not realizing it had been born. She pushed the eggshell into the chick hard enough to draw blood. “Hey!” Tagritha cried out, shooing the mother bird away. Grio looked at the baby, concerned. “He’s hurt.” Grio said, concerned. He reached over and picked it up. Just then, Uncle Piar came out, along with his daughters. Grio took the baby bird to him. “He’s hurt, see? The mother kicked the shell into him.” He told the man in the krikal language. Piar went over to Tagritha. “You’ve got to take the egg-shells away after they hatch.” He told his niece. “Otherwise the mother gets confused. That one chick will die as it is, seeing how hard it’s bleeding.” Tagritha looked at him, saddened. Grio, standing where he’d shown the chick to Piar, hadn’t heard Piar’s assessment of the bird’s chances. Quickly, Tagritha took away the two eggshells. “Crush them under your foot.” Piar instructed. “Then the frin will eat them later and get the calcium back.” Tagritha obeyed, crushing them. As further chicks hatched, she kept crushing their egg-shells. After the chicks had all hatched - four, including the injured one - Tagritha went over to Grio. She started to tell him that there was nothing he could do, the chick would die, but he interrupted her. “He’s stopped bleeding!” Grio exclaimed. He was holding the frin chick in one hand and he grabbed that hand with his other hand, squeezing his wrist. Piar, hearing what Grio had cried out, looked over in surprise. Sure enough, Grio had wiped off the blood with his shirt, and no more was coming. “Well, that’s one lucky little chick.” Piar commented. “I think he’ll survive after all.” Grio burst into a song, an improvised one in the targran language expressing his delight that the frin chick was OK. “Little one, little one. I’m so glad you’re OK. I feared for you, I cried for you, I sang for you and now you’re fine.” He gazed lovingly at the chick, clutched to his chest. Tagritha looked at Grio thoughtfully.
Copyright © 2010 Ettina Satot |