The Granete Hunt

Rhotir's people have outgrown their food supply and make a deal with the Granete tribes. If Rhotir's Therans can protect the Granete village, then they will be granted hunting grounds.

"So, the Granetes have agreed then?" inquired the young man. His amber eyes looked up to meet his chieftain's. Rhotir stood above Tryphon, who kneeled beside the small fire, tending to the morning coals. Rhotir bit into a green apple, some of the juices dripping into his tanned chest. The sun was barely up and already the air was smoldering. The young chieftain wiped his mouth and swallowed the piece of apple before responding.

  "Aye, they have agreed. We lend our spears, they give us the flatlands. The Incanti's foraging grounds have been outgrown. I refuse to let my people starve. If they hadn't agreed, they would be receiving our spears in another fashion," answered Rhotir. He gave a slight grin as he finished speaking and returned to eating his breakfast. Tryphon looked back to the small fire and nodded his head a couple of times. He continued to poke at the fire but used his free hand to rub his scruffy chin. Rhotir noticed his follower and swallowed another bite of his apple.

  "Tryphon, what is on your mind? Have my words troubled you?" questioned Rhotir as he crouched down beside the man. The amber eyes rose once more to meet Rhotir's.

  "Well, Rhotir. I am honored to follow your lead. I desire nothing more than to aid you in providing for our tribe. But, the gods have cursed me. I am weighed down by the past. What we did... the Incanti-" Rhotir held his hand up, a movement demanding silence from his companion. Tryphon nodded and listened to the words of his chieftain.

  "Tryphon, what we did, it was balancing the world. They burned our people, we slaughtered theirs. It was a gruesome task, but a necessary one. The gods thrive on a balance in the world- Artos wills it. He balances the sky, Turdan the land, and Naemos the rivers and sea. The world requires a balance, Tryphon. Violence begets violence- to not return the favor is to curse the world with chaos. Now, concerning the Granetes. Aye, they have done us no wrong- but to deny us our right to sustenance to give our people so we may survive, that in itself is a form of aggression and a wrong. Luckily for them, they have agreed," explained Rhotir, his grey eyes piercing into Tryphon's, carrying his message effectively. "Your heart may be heavy for having killed your fellow man- we all ache for what we did. But our minds need be at ease, for we must be aware that we had to do it."

  The amber-eyed youth stared into the flames that had now grown and nodded in understanding. Rhotir stood back up and pulled his spear from the ground and walked down the hill to the narrow creek. He laid his spear upon the smooth rocks and knelt beside the clear running water. He leaned over the water and used his cupped hands to bring the drink to his lips. Tryphon came down shortly afterwards and grabbed himself a drink of water. Refreshed, the two grabbed their spears and began their trek back to the river delta.

  Rhotir and Tryphon strolled into their village five days later, arriving in the late evening, the only ones awake to greet them were the ten men the village kept as guards during the nights. The two travelers went around the village, waking up the other fourteen warriors Rhotir considered his council. Groggy and sweaty, the freshly awakened men made their way to Rhotir's hut atop the hill towards the north of the town. The village was lit only by the moonlight. The summer nights were just as hot as the days and the people refused to light fires at night for fear of cooking in their sleep as one would roast a steak. Their homes were built to contain heat and so Rhotir decided it best to have his meeting outside.

  The men scaled the hill, following the crude wooden staircase to the crest and finally sitting in a circle with Rhotir and Tryphon. The council sat cross-legged in the warm summer air and awaited the word of their leader. The chieftain wiped some sweat from his brow and tied his long brown hair in a pony-tail so his eye contact would not be broken with his audience. He looked between his men and smiled.

  "Men, your wives and young ones will not hunger. The Granetes to the north have agreed to share their hunting grounds as long as we can provide them the same safety we provide our village. They informed me that people further north have been known to attack their hunting parties. They are going hunting in a few days, giving us time to get up there. If we prove that we can defend them when the need arises, they will hand their southern hunting grounds over to us. This should cover our shortage of food. I cannot take all fifteen of you with me- I must leave one of you behind to watch over our own village. Tryphon, I am entrusting you with that task. I don't know how long we will be gone, but until we return- you act in my stead. We leave tomorrow evening- enjoy this time with your families. I cant promise you will see them again."

  Rhotir's words were spoken quietly, the wide river to the south able to be heard in the warm, calm air . His men nodded in understanding and crossed their arms in front of their chests in salute before descending the hill to return to their huts. Rhotir remained seated atop the hill, staring off across the land towards the mighty Thanetes. He slept the whole next day until it was time to leave. He gathered his men and set off on the five day journey. They did their best to limit their travel during the middle of the day, tending to travel more in the morning and evening. The days grew hotter and hotter though, even the mornings were beginning to blister.

  The fifteen hunters stood outside the edges of the Granete village. The settlement was placed in a large clearing, surrounded by a wooded area that blanketed the rolling hills. A small river cut through the village and into the wooded hills, most likely flowing south towards the river where Rhotir and his men resided. The evening was pulling the sun down behind the horizon and the moon was growing brighter. Rhotir walked forward from his party and met the chieftain of the Granetes. The two grabbed each other's outstretched forearms and shook. They nodded to each other and smiled. Rhotir spoke first after having let go of his equals forearm.

  "Well met, Urksel. I hope we arrived in a timely manner?"

  "Aye, young Rhotir. Well met indeed. And yes, you and your Therans have arrived in time. We are to feast soon, to ask the gods for a good hunt, and of course, to not be hunted ourselves."

  "Well, you have our spears with you now. Your game will be numerous, your losses will be none. And in return, you will grant us the flatlands, yes?"

  "Yes, that is our arrangement. But, we can talk of this over a good meal, Come now, bring your hunters with you. We have a celebration to experience."

  The Granete chieftain led the fifteen Therans into his village and introduced them to various people, among whom was a craftsman named Arkhil, a healing woman named Nesvil, and a young boy named Herul, who is taken care of by the entire village. Torches were being lit all through the village and a large fire was being prepared in the center of the village. Long tables orbited around the fire pile and young, topless women danced about, carrying trays of food and wooden bowls full of sweet water, their hair adorned in light colored flowers and twisted roots. It was truly to be a festival.

  The sun finally fell behind the Thanetes and darkness overtook the Granete village. The torches lit up the pathways and the large bonfire in the center lit up the evening feast. The bare-breasted women danced about the hungry men as they laid waste to the meals presented to them. An assortment of varying drumbeats echoed over the chatter and laughter of the villagers and Rhotir's followers. Amidst the entertaining chaos of the feast, Rhotir and Urksel sat at the longest table, side by side, discussing the hunt to come. Urksel sat his drink down and looked to Rhotir.

  "Young chieftain, I am very glad we could strike an agreement. I lose men every time we send some out, meaning there are less for us to send. They outnumber us and to be honest, none of us here are fans of the idea of killing our fellow man. But you, young Rhotir? The Incanti are no more."

  Rhotir swallowed a piece of meat and washed it down with the honey-flavored drink before partaking in his turn of the conversation. "Aye, my spear has pierced the flesh of man. Though it was willed by the gods. Violence can only be answered by violence, my elder. That is a lesson learned through loss. Now tell me, are you content to continue suffering losses or will your men be up doing what I ask of them, no matter how terrible?"

  "My men will do whatever you command of them. Just be sure they do not lose their humanity by doing so, young chieftain. Your lesson in violence may be true. But, it is not the code my people live by."

  "Then it will be the code your people die by. Leave your defense to me. I can guarantee it. All you need worry about is your southern hunting grounds. Will your people truly continue to have enough food if we take the flatlands for ourselves?" asked Rhotir as he took another bite of his meal. Urksel's eyes followed the path of one of the dancers as he responded.

  "Yes, we will have ample food supplies even without our southern lands. Not to mention, if we can fight back these northerners, then our hunters will be able to focus more on hunting than being hunted. Let us not worry of such things now though. Let us enjoy these supple breasts and these fulfilling dishes. We can talk of violence tomorrow, young Rhotir," spoke Urksel as his eyes returned to meet Rhotir's. The young man nodded in understanding and drank the rest of his beverage before leaning back in his chair to watch the fire burn.

  The party was up before the sun had risen and Rhotir's men were leading the way. The hunting grounds were a day's walk to the northwest. The dense trees provided excellent shade from the rays of the sun but the air was still thick with heat, making the trip very uncomfortable. The party of thirty made camp along the gravelly banks of a turn in the small river. They avoided lighting fires as to avoid alerting the northerners to their location. The next morning the Granetes woke up and began to prepare for the hunt when Rhotir stopped them.

  "We are not here to hunt the wild boar or the agile deer, like you Granetes. We have deadlier game to hunt. Continue on down the river bed, follow the trails of your prey. My men and I will be in the tree line. We will not abandon you. I can guarantee that all of you will make it home, with plenty of game to share with your families," assured Rhotir. He stood on a hill that ran along the river bank and his men were walking up into the tree line behind him. Their fire-hardened spears trotted off behind the hill and the Granetes carried themselves along the bank of the river, going about their hunt as they would if Rhotir had never accompanied them.

  A couple hours had passed before the Granetes had managed to snag any game. They stopped in a small clearing by the river and began to carve up the meats and clean the hides. There they sat, distracted from their surroundings, like an unaware prey for an opportunistic predator. And they were- for the northerners. Rhotir and his men were crouched across the river on a raised bank that allowed them to see beyond the clearing and into the woods on the other side. In the rays of light that slipped between the leaves of the canopy, Rhotir spotted the tanned skins of men, the sweat gleaming off of their bodies, acting like a beacon for the keen eyes of the young chieftain. He tapped the man nearest to him, Byron, on the shoulder and he did the same to the man nearest him. One by one, the spearmen made their way across the river, hiding in the bushes just out of sight of the northerners across the clearing. One of the Granete hunters heard Rhotir in the bushes and look towards him. They nodded to each other and at that moment, the northerners erupted from the tree line and rushed forward, spears raised above their heads.

  The Granetes turned, remaining crouched, and planted their spears firmly in the ground, holding the point towards the wave of attackers. The northerners slammed into the blackened tips, their bodies sliding down the shafts of the Granete spears and dropping their own tools of war. Rhotir's men came out of the shrubbery and charged into the flank of the assailants. Rhotir's spear met the abdomen of an unsuspecting north-man, the dark red of his blood splashing out onto the green grass of the clearing. Rhotir left his spear inside the man and grabbed his victim's spear as his body fell to the ground. He then turned and threw the spear across the clearing and towards the tree line where the attack came from. The projectile slammed into the throat of another warrior, pinning him to a tree.

  Another attacker charged Rhotir with his spear thrust forward. The young chieftain grabbed the shaft of the spear and head-butted his assailant. The man fell to the ground and Rhotir drove the northerner's spear into his chest. The fight went like this for a while as over sixty northerners slammed into the spears of the Granetes and Therans, lead valiantly by Rhotir. When the stones and spears stopped flying, Rhotir and his troop had not taken any casualties but the wave of attackers were now strewn across the clearing. The victors stood covered in blood. For the Granetes, it was a baptism into the world of war. For the Therans, it was another victory under their belt. Rhotir stood in the center of the clearing and raised his spear into the air, letting out a deafening roar, his mane of hair drenched in blood and his body covered in slices and bruises. His men, in similar condition, raised their spears and roared themselves. The Granetes merely looked about in awe as they packed up their game and went to the river to wash off. The Therans allowed the blood to cake to their skin as the hot summer sun began to cook the dead bodies of their fallen foes.

  When they had finished hunting, the party left for the Granete village. They arrived the next day during the early afternoon when all the villagers were awake and busy with their daily routines. The first thing they saw emerge from the tree line was a bloodied Rhotir, his men marching behind him carrying various game. Behind the Therans came the Granetes, their faces still filled with shock and their shoulders draped in furs and strings of cut meat. Urksel came out of the village and met Rhotir, though did not greet him. He looked in shock at the blood Rhotir wore as clothing and gazed in similar manner at the Therans. The families of the Granete hunters ran towards them and greeted them with warmth and concern.

  "We left two survivors. They will run back to their tribe and tell them of us. The fear should keep them away. Though, upon my return to my village, I will send ten of my men back here and they will help protect your hunting parties. Feel free to learn something from them. If you need assistance in the future, simply send word to me. Fair well, Urksel. May your hunting be prosperous."

  Rhotir uttered those words and nodded to Urksel before walking through the Granete village and into the woods on the opposite side. They followed the same trail home that they had taken to get to the Granete village and for the next two years, the Granetes and Therans would walk that path, removing trees and large rocks, flattening the earth with their bare feet. The path became easier and easier to traverse, leading to increased travel. The two villages continued to work together, trading food, furs, fish, and wickerwork. The five-day-long travel was divided in two as the travelers made camp in the same spot every time, the simple tents becoming permanent huts and Granetes and Therans marrying and settling down in between the two villages. The wooded middle village supplied the grassy delta of the Therans with ample timber for construction and the Theran warriors who stayed at the middle village were closer to the Granetes, and better able to help them when the northerners attacked. And they did attack, but every time, the Therans were there to help the Granetes fight back. The three villages relied on each other and they prospered for those two years until Rhotir returned to the Granete village. Then, the violence would be returned to the northerners.

Author's Note

A new version of it. I hope everyone enjoys.