1. The Stranger-2

2029 Words
Jordan stared, his mouth hanging open. “I never knew any of this. I thought it was inappropriate to talk of such things.” “It is.” “My parents always said we should work the land, keep an eye on the rainfall, and strive for living another day.” “Of course. When you’ve spent a lifetime doing just that, come tell me how your mind feels. Do you try to make sense of it all? Was it worth it? Do you now wonder if there was more to this life than the villages and the Katron?” He exhaled. “Do you think this man could be from another land?” Lovick stared out the window. “I don’t know. I do know there hasn’t been a visitor from beyond the four villages in my lifetime. Whatever this stranger has to say, I would listen.” Jordan returned home in the late afternoon as a howling northern wind came through the village. He relished his home’s warmth— A brute force pressed him against the front door, slamming his forehead into the wood. Splinters pierced his skin, spilling warm blood over his nose. Something sharp pressed against his back. “Where am I?” a deep voice hissed. “Where? Answer me or I cut!” His heart pounded as a cold sweat covered him. “You’re in Ord. You’re in my home. My name is Jordan.” “How did I get here?” “We brought you from the river three days ago. My name’s Jordan and I—” “What river?” The object split his back. He winced. “The Katron. It’s east of here. We mean you no harm, my friend.” The pressure on his back lessened, and the man released Jordan from the door. He slowly turned around to see the stranger’s face, one of Jordan’s meat carving knives in his hand. “Are you with the Tyral Pirates?” “What?” Jordan blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Tyral Pirates on the Frontier’s edge. Are you with them?” “Never heard of them.” He gestured to the couch. “Please sit.” He stepped toward the couch, never taking his eyes off Jordan. Jordan swallowed as he sat. “Can I ask your name?” He surveyed his surroundings with steel, cold eyes. “I need a ship.” “A what?” He frowned. “Where’s the nearest port?” “Port?” Jordan shook his head. “I don’t know of any port.” The man frowned. “How is that possible?” Jordan shrugged. “We’re just trying to help you. You were near death when we found you.” “Look,” he said as he placed the knife on the side table, “my Lutimite reactor failed. My ship crashed. The Tyral Pirates are sure to be behind me. I lost them in the wilds, but they’ll be back. I need to get out of here.” Jordan knew of nothing the man mentioned. It could be his mind had been taken over by a demon. He remembered the campfire stories of men who had fever dreams and lost their sanity. The men wandered into the wilderness. Families followed, searching. Those fortunate enough to find their men discovered they had lost their minds. They spoke of faraway places similar to what Jordan heard in his living room at this very moment. However, the stranger seemed to be sincere in his story. “Father?” The man turned around. Wearing his long pajamas, Henri stood in his doorway. “Henri!” Jordan waved his hand at the stranger. “Everything’s okay, son. Please go back to bed.” Henri stared at the visitor and slowly backed into his room, closing the door behind him. “That your son?” the man asked. “Yes.” “I would hate to see anything happen to him.” Jordan bared his teeth. “We’re not here to harm you. We’ve fed you and dressed your wounds. If you could tell me exactly what happened, I’ll help you the best I can.” “I was on a job. I completed my task, but the Tyral Pirates pursued me to...what planet is this?” “Planet?” Jordan frowned. “You’re in my village.” He sighed. “My ship was damaged, and I walked for days before finding the river. We can expect the pirates weren’t far behind. If I don’t leave here soon, they’ll find me.” “I see,” Jordan said, although he didn’t entirely. “Your ship travels the Great Ocean?” “No. The stars.” His jaw dropped. “The stars?” “Yes.” He c****d his head to the right. “Where are my things?” “They are in the barn. Safe. What do we call you?” “Just call me, Jon, for now.” He leaned forward. “I believe you want to help me. But I must leave.” “I don’t know how to help you. You must rest until your strength returns.” “I’ll leave the day after tomorrow, no matter how I feel.” Jon bit his lip and flexed his arm to stretch the bandages. “Good field dressing.” “I’d never turn my back on one in need.” Jon snorted. “I would.” Henri’s laugh from the front yard woke Jordan from a deep sleep and dreams of an endless white landscape cast in ice. Bluish light from the window signaled early morning. He stood, stretched stiff muscles and pressed against the opening. Jon and Henri tossed a ball back and forth. Jordan watched them play for a long moment, unsure of how to react. Jon had held a knife to his throat the evening before. Now, he played catch with his son. Who was this man? His exotic clothing was unlike anything Jordan had seen. He wore expandable black fabric with numerous pockets and straps on his wrists emitting tiny lights like candles. And, of course, the gun. Jordan shuddered. When he was a boy, a man from Iree killed his neighbor for trying to take his wife—or at least that was the story he’d heard. The man had pummeled his neighbor with a hammer. Iree showed no mercy toward the criminal and banished him to the mountains. One life did not pay for another, he remembered his father saying. Jordan was now in his thirty-eighth year, and there had been no violence in the villages since he was a boy. Sure, there had been wolves and the like, but man never attacked man. Outside his window, the gun on Jon’s belt revealed it was fine to kill another person somewhere. A craftsman had gone to the trouble of creating a device to take a life. He thought it was a myth until Jon arrived in Ord carrying one. A light snow fell. Henri stared up with wonder. Jordan grabbed a cup of coffee and stepped on the porch. “Good morning.” Jon turned from Henri. “Morning, Jordan.” “How did you sleep?” Jon tossed the ball toward Henri and walked toward the porch. “Fine.” “You seem to be walking better,” Jordan said as he passed Jon the coffee mug. “It’s working itself out.” Jon accepted the mug and took a long look at the distant mountains. “I’ve seen a few travelers come from the direction of those hills. Trade route?” “It won’t be in another week.” “Winter?” “Yes. It lasts for several months. Gets pretty rough.” Jon sipped on the coffee. “This is good. Where do you get this?” “From a village downriver called Gapen south of Iree. It’s one of the four in the valley.” “How did you come to be here? When did your people land?” Jordan frowned. “What?” “Being way out here on the edge of the Frontier, I figured you might originally be from Nodan or even Toman.” “I don’t know any of those places.” “Just as well. You aren’t missing much.” Jordan watched Henri throw the ball in the air and kick it across the yard. “Are you a hunter?” Jon glanced at him. “Why do you ask?” “The gun on your belt. I’ve never seen anything like it. Just heard about it in ancient stories.” “Yeah, you could say I’m a hunter,” Jon said and stared into his coffee. Jordan watched the flurries fall. “Winter will be here soon. We’ll need food.” He gestured to the fields. “The world has not been kind this year. Besides, my son needs to experience the hunt.” “He’s never been?” “Yes, but only a few times.” Jon stared into the forest as if he stared into another place, another time. When he turned back to Jordan, the tightness around his eyes had lessened. “What kind of game do you have in these woods?” “Ong and wolves.” “I don’t know what an ‘ong’ is, but I’ve dealt with wolves before,” he said, pulling out his gun. “This isn’t a hunting weapon, but it’ll do.” Jordan stared at the killing device and inhaled slowly. “An ong travels on four legs and is bigger than a wolf.” “This might not stop something bigger than a wolf.” He exhaled and stared at the ground. “I haven’t hunted game in a long, long time.” Jordan reached out and touched his shoulder. “Let’s go tomorrow.” The fire sizzled and slowly died, washing the room in an orange glow. Jordan sipped the last of his tea and risked a glance at Jon, who had been silent most of the night as he gazed into the embers. Jordan pulled the quilt his wife had made tighter around his shoulders. How he wished she was here. Tasha always knew what to say. He wanted to hear her voice, but she was gone. Henri looked so much like her. His son had gone to bed early in anticipation of tomorrow’s hunt. It would be his second in as many years. The previous hunt had resulted in the capture of a squirrel and a rat hardly large enough for a feast, but it was better than nothing. This winter, he thought grimly, they’d need a great deal more. “The fire’s dying.” Jordan jolted at Jon’s voice. “I’ll get another log.” “Allow me,” Jon said as he stood. “If you feel the need to sleep, do so.” “I’ll not leave my guest.” Jon tossed the log on the fire, sending sparks spinning and swirling into the chimney. “It’s really no trouble.” Jordan studied him. “You cannot sleep before a hunt?” “Not exactly. I don’t usually find sleep easy to come by anywhere, but especially in a strange place.” “You’re safe here. There’s no one to harm you.” Jon stared out the window into the darkness. “No, not here. Not yet.” Jordan bit his lip and hesitated. “You wish to ask something?” Jon did not turn from the fire. “No, I was just wondering about the hunt tomorrow,” Jordan said, holding back his real question. He stepped away from the fire and sat. “When did you last see an ong near the village?” “This past season. I was out plowing the field at the end of my property near the forest. A family of ong grazed in the clearing. I didn’t have my spear or bow, so they escaped.” He grinned at the memory. The four ong galloped away with such speed and agility. “That’s where we’ll start in the morning then,” Jon said. Jon negotiated the forest terrain as if he knew the way. He paused frequently, but briefly, as he touched the ground or felt a nearby tree. “Where’s he going?” Henri asked. The boy’s face burned red as he leaned against a tree. Jordan ignored his searing lungs. There was a time in his youth when running through the forest wouldn’t have phased him. Now, after one morning, his muscles ached, and his chest hurt. Jon reached the top of an incline, his gun in hand, and turned back. A cloud-capped peak loomed behind him. “I’m sorry we’ve slowed you,” Jordan said, placing his hand on Henri’s shoulder. “We’re not accustomed to traveling through the forest at such speed.” Henri nodded and glanced at his bow. “Have you found anything, Jon?” Jon held up his hand to quiet the boy. “I’m tracking something, something with hooves.” “An ong,” Jordan said. “It has to be.” “Very well.” Jon looked up the incline. “This ravine—how far does it go around this mountain?” “A ril, maybe more.” “Whatever. Walk downward and toward the ravine. There’s a rock face I can see through the trees. Be loud about it, too.” “Where are you going?” Henri asked. “Up this hill and around. With luck, you’ll flush this beast to me. If not, it’ll come to you.” He rustled Henri’s hair. “Can you handle that?” “Yes, sir.” Jordan pulled his son away and gazed down the incline. The valley floor’s lush green stretched into infinity. Smoke lines drifted from Ord like thin gray strings. Katron cut through the grasslands on a winding course past the mountain range and out of sight. Farther east, a large caravan moved along the Great Road leading to Iree. Henri skipped along the trail with bow in hand, his quiver bouncing on his back. Jordan grinned, thought, we should’ve done this more often. Jordan placed the spear in front of him and followed his son, searching the forest for any sign of life. He wasn’t sure what Jon tracked, but the man seemed sure of what he was doing. Wherever Jon came from, he certainly knew how to hunt an ong. Thunder cracked twice and echoed off the rocks. Jordan raised his spear as Henri ducked behind a tree and searched the clear skies. “What was that?” Jordan raised his hand. “Quiet, son.” No wind moved through the leaves. The trees were still. The clouds did not hold rain. Something rustled in the brush up the mountain, softly stepping through dead leaves. Jordan stepped behind his son, whispered for him to stay calm. Henri slipped an arrow from his quiver. Branches and deadwood splintered and shattered from up the mountain. An ong burst into view, blood streaking from its neck. The animal sprinted through the brush and leaped over a fallen branch. Henri released an arrow. The projectile hit with a thud into a tree behind the ong, sending bark spinning into the air.
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