Page 56 of Blacktail

Blacktail felt the fur rise up on his back. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I think you are right.” He followed, but slowly, pausing just inside for his eyes to adjust.

The Hider, however, was very much at home in this darkness. He strode forward without fear. Soon the echoes of his footfalls were distant.

Blacktail followed. A step or two past the point where daylight dwindled away to darkness he saw the corpse of a man. Other than its death wound it was whole. From the smell, it had been here a long time. Nothing had eaten from it.

No scavenger will enter this place, Blacktail realized. It’s too dark. He padded forward, trailing the sounds: the Hider’s footsteps, the prey’s soft cries. But with each step the scent of a new body greeted him, a great many, all lining the path. Some, like the one at the entrance, were fresh. Others were little more than dust. The tunnel was long. The three of them—Hider, prey, hunter—walked deep, far into the earth. Curious, he looked back over his shoulder. The circle of light marking the entrance had disappeared. This is what it is to be swallowed, Blacktail thought. A shiver ran down the length of his spine.

The tunnel ended in an open chamber lit with a dim purple glow. Now he could see, but only faintly; outlines and shapes. Bodies—mostly men. Skeletons. Farther inside he saw many skeletons that were not men. Beyond that, lumps that might have been anything at all.

Blacktail crossed the threshold to find the Hider prostrate and in deep meditation. The prey trembled next to him, squeaking fear, dripping sweat into the gray and ancient dust.

Blacktail walked in behind and sat on his haunches, holding a respectful silence.

The Hider lifted his head up and looked back at Blacktail. His eyes were wide, with tiny veins that stood out purple in the sepulchral light. “God is coming,” the Hider whispered. He went to the prey and lifted it over his shoulder. The prey left a small puddle of fear-piss in the sand.

My leg is better now, Blacktail realized. It hardly hurts at all.

At the deepest point of the chamber lay a great pile of skulls, some old and dry, some fresher. A few were still fragrant. The Hider cast the prey from his shoulder onto this, moving easily, as if the burden had grown light to him and his wound no longer brought pain.

The prey struggled and squirmed, but it was no use. The Hider took out the long tooth, the one he had cut with before. He raised it high over his head. The prey’s terror rolled across the chamber. Blacktail’s nostrils flared as he sipped it from the cool air. At the moment of the prey’s darkest horror, when its mind was in the blackest depth, the Hider brought down his fang and buried it in the prey’s chest. A moment later the prey’s bowels loosed. It hissed out a final breath.

It died.

The Hider stood back, then knelt down and buried his face humbly in the earth. “God is here.”

The dead thing sat up.

Blacktail started back. He was not especially frightened, but the sights before him were difficult to take in. The Hider knelt, prostrate in his ecstasy. The dead one—formerly the prey—rose up. It caressed the Hider on the back of his neck.

“Welcome, Lord Hunter,” the dead man said. “I have waited long and long to speak with you again.”

vi

“I think you have mistaken me for someone else,” Blacktail said after a moment. “I have not known such as you before.”

“No,” it said. “Of course you would not remember. But I knew your father.”

“What? What of my father?”

“I have little to tell you,” it said. “Your father did me a service once. I would repay the favor to his son, if I can. Tell me, does your journey go well?”

Blacktail mulled this over for a long moment, trying to be mindful of discourtesy. But the dead thing didn’t seem to mind. And by now the Hider’s insanity was such that he could only tremble.

“In truth…no,” Blacktail said, grimacing. “The lands I have seen are mostly empty. There is not much game. There are almost no hunters. The only living things left in any numbers are men and their slaves. But these infest all lands. The two-legs—men—are fierce beyond reason. They kill without hunger, hurt without purpose.” He paused. “It is…troubling.”

“Troubling indeed,” the dead thing said. “And what of your hunt? Have you found the trail of the Forest God?”

“No. Not yet. Any idea where I might look?”

“Ahhh,” the dead thing said. The air rushed from the knife wound in its chest, a wet, bubbly sound. “This is not an easy thing. The Forest God is not a simple beast, Blacktail. He is not to be hunted down and summoned at your will. He sleeps in many places, many lands.”

“This appears to be the case. I thought perhaps—”

The dead thing held up a hand. Blacktail cut himself off to listen. “But if you continue south, you might find Him. In time.”

“Hmm. Any idea how much farther? I have traveled long already. I have seen no sign.”

“Long again, I think, or perhaps not so long…” The dead thing shrugged. “It is impossible to say.”