Things Unseen: (An epic fantasy adventure series) (The Caris Chronicles Book 1) (2 page)

She ran recklessly, not even looking out for derks on the horizon, her own safety mattered little to her now. She had to find the children, even though she knew that, like the soldiers, she would be too late. The derks had come from the direction of the ravine.

Her sides ached and her breath came in small gasps but she forced herself to run faster until she reached the gorge. Caris stopped before the edge, fearing what she would see. She took a deep breath and slowly walked to the beginning of the downward sloping path.

Stopping at the bottom, she forced herself to raise her eyes and scan the ravine. She didn’t have to look far before she saw blood. The evidence of derks and children was plain, even if she hadn’t been expecting to find it. Veering off the path, Caris forced herself to head straight for the carnage.
Maybe a child escaped and is wedged in a hole somewhere, too scared to come out.

When she reached the first small hand, her feet stopped of their own volition. Caris stared numbly at the tiny fingers. They were so perfect, not a drop of blood on them. Her gaze narrowed so they filled her vision. She imagined them playing tilly-too, with pebbles in the dirt, with the other children. She stared mindlessly until a persistent fly brought her to herself. “I wonder whose fingers they were?”

Caris lifted her gaze and scanned the surrounding rocks, trying to see into the dark spaces underneath. Finally, she found the nerve to call out “Hello. Is anyone here? It’s me, Caris.” There was no reply. The words felt so wrong, as if she was calling at someone’s door. Still, she forced herself to keep calling as she did a wide circle around the area of destruction.

After an hour, far longer than was necessary, Caris admitted to herself what she had known all along. There were no survivors. As the last of the adrenalin drained from her body, Caris dragged herself mindlessly back to the place that was no longer home.

****

A large claw descended toward Janen’s face. He leapt back, raising his sword and cleaving the wrist from its arm. The derk roared. Janen jumped. He hadn’t thought he could get more terrified, but the sound rang against him, making his legs weak.

He stepped forward and plunged his sword through the beast’s midsection. The derk began to collapse before Janen had even thought to pull his sword free.

Another derk was pounding toward him. With shaking limbs, Janen used two hands to clasp the hilt of his sword and pull.

It came free and he swung on his heal slicing into the advancing derk. His sword cut into the beast’s side but its momentum carried it forward and sharp claws slashed at Janen. He jumped out of the way and spun to meet another derk who had thought to attack him from behind. He managed to deliver a killing blow, and with a grim smile, turned to meet another foe.

Janen pushed his fear down until it nestled as a small hard ball in the pit of his stomach. He sized up another derk and advanced to meet it. This might be his first real battle, but he was determined it wouldn’t be his last.

He spared a glance around for Baylein. Janen had been at his house, organising a horse for the morrow’s ploughing, when the derk attack came. The two young men had grabbed swords and run out into the fray.

As the derks poured down the road, Janen found himself fighting through them toward Caris’ house. He saw so many of his friends and neighbours butchered, but he hadn’t seen what had happened to Baylein.

He, and all the boys, had been practising with the sword since they were old enough to pick up sticks. Though derks hadn’t attacked their village before, there was always the possibility it might happen one day.

Janen had excelled with the sword among his peers, especially the last couple of years, as he poured his anger at his situation into his fighting. He found the derks easier to battle than his sparring partners, but there were so many of them! And they didn’t qualm at coming at people from behind or in packs.

He almost stopped fighting in relief when he saw Caris on her rooftop calling to her parents.

A large claw raked through the air toward his face bringing him back to the reality of the danger around him. He raised his sword quickly, slicing the limb from a roaring derk. Janen could see Cheri and her parents running across the street toward Caris, and the derks pounding up the street toward them. He knew he would not make it in time, as he had not made it to help so many others.

Janen’s arm swung automatically as he spun, hacking into the derks surrounding him, his mind only half on the peril around him. He watched as the derks swarmed upon Caris’ family. One lunged at Caris’ mother and Caris loosed an arrow with lightning speed. It found its mark too late.

Janen focused his concentration on fighting as the pack around him thickened and derks began lunging at him from every side. He fought expertly but the derks were fast and this was the first time he had ever had to fight for his life, or to kill.

With a powerful swing, he severed the head from one derk, only to have it replaced by another. Janen knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

The anger he felt at the derks for destroying the people of his village fuelled his movements and lent strength to his lunges. He spun and swung with deathly speed, hacking into the derks around him, determined to take as many with him as he could.

He turned on one foot to stab a derk that had moved in behind him, but before he could strike, it was falling away with an arrow protruding from its eye. More fell around him and, with renewed clarity, Janen was able to fight his way to Caris and up the ladder onto the roof beside her. As she shot her last arrow, she began to scream, and Janen had to physically restrain her from flinging herself down the ladder to where the derks were fighting over the little that remained of her mum.

Janen hugged Caris to himself, terrified that she would break free of him. Eventually, she stopped struggling and collapsed in his arms sobbing. He held her, heart breaking at her grief, until The King’s Horse arrived.

Janen was mesmerised by their splendour. The riders held themselves with such nobility, and their horses were magnificent. A longing to be like The King’s Horse filled Janen. To be free of poverty, to be able to hold his head high, and ride for a noble purpose, seemed suddenly to be the only course worth following with his life.

His attention was broken from The King’s Horse by his concern for Caris. He noticed with relief that she was rallying. Reluctantly, he allowed her to pull away from him. Her green eyes, startling in their bright difference to all the other blue eyes in the village, sparkled. But, unlike the humour they usually evinced, it was tears that were catching the sunlight this time.

She didn’t stay to watch The King’s Horse, but disappeared behind her house. Janen wanted to go after her to make sure she was okay. Caris was the strongest woman he knew but no one from their town had ever faced anything like what had happened today. He considered following her but sensed she wanted some space.

As he climbed down from the roof, he noticed the leader of The King’s Horse giving directions. Reaching the bottom of the ladder, Janen stopped to watch him. He was of medium height and build, with short wavy blonde hair and a strong air of confidence. Janen could not peal his eyes from him. The sergeant saw clearly what needed to be done and gave directions with a quiet authority, showing obvious respect to those who deferred to him. He noticed Janen and smiled at him. Embarrassed, Janen looked away and began the gruesome job of retrieving Caris’ arrows.

Each arrow was firmly embedded through the eye of a derk. Derk skin was like leather, and though a firm shot with a strong arrow could pierce it, it didn’t slow them down too much. A good shot in the eye, however, was deadly, and Caris had found the mark every time.

She had fired the arrows deep into the derk’s heads, and Janen could only pull them out by putting one foot on the derk’s face and wiggling the arrows back and forward as he pulled. They came out with a disgusting sucking sound. Janen’s stomach churned.
It would cost a fortune to replace these,
he thought, as he forced himself to continue.

When Janen was finished retrieving them, he laid them on Caris’ doorstep, no longer able to resist the overpowering need to check on his family. He had four brothers at home to help protect the others, but he knew that if they hadn’t gained the roof quickly they wouldn’t have been enough. He was terrified of what he might discover, but could stall no longer. He began cutting across the paddocks to the western edge of the village, where his father and uncle’s small farms lay.

Janen sat on the back step of his family’s small home. He had told himself there was little chance they would have survived. The derk attack had come so fast, very few people had made it to safety. Even so, arriving back at his farm to find only blood splatters and a few body remains had been a shock. He had gone to his own farm first and finding no one had suspended his horror long enough to search his uncle’s farms, but they were all gone.

He returned to his house. Unable to think clearly, he sunk down onto the back step where he sat numbly staring at his mum’s torn and bloody dress lying in the grass. Grief filled him at the loss of those he loved so dearly.

He had been close to his mum. She was a remarkable woman who had married his father, for love, despite his poverty. Janen had not only loved her for the way she nurtured him, and all the men in her life, but he had also admired her for her grit and unwavering principles. She had given him hope that, despite being the third son of a poor family, he might someday rise above his circumstances.

He had been close to his father and brothers as well. They had done everything together. On a poor farm, the working hours were long, but they had enjoyed each other’s company and weathered many hardships together. He sobbed brokenly. He felt so empty and lost. The world seemed a much colder and colourless place without them.

Janen raked his hands through his hair and tried to dry his cheeks on his dirty sleeves. There was work to do. He didn’t know what the future would hold for any of the survivors and couldn’t focus his thoughts to consider it, but there were those who needed his help now. He walked back the short distance to the village to begin helping with the removal of derks.

As he worked alongside the villagers and King’s Horse, he became increasingly aware that there was no future for any of them in the village. Finally, he commented as much to one of The King’s Horse.

“No,” the young man replied, “Crispin will arrange an escort to take whoever of you who want to, back to another village or town.”

“Then why are we doing this?” Janen asked as he stood up to stretch his back.

“Do you want to do this?”

Janen looked around in consideration. It would be terrible to leave his home, but if he had to do so, then he couldn’t leave it looking like this. That was one victory the derks wouldn’t have. When he remembered the village where he had grown up, he wanted to remember it the way it had always been, not covered in rotting derk bodies.

“Yes,” he replied simply.

The young horseman nodded and replied, “Over the years we have found that people recover more healthily from their grief if they can clean up and say a proper farewell to their village before leaving, and there will be some who will not leave so we do this for them as well.”

“Thank you for your help,” said Janen.

The young man nodded sympathetically in reply.

Janen lost himself in the hot and gruesome job of moving derks. The sergeant came over at one point and sent the man Janen had been working with on an errand. Janen looked around for someone else to partner with; the derk’s bodies were too heavy to lift on his own. He was surprised when Crispin bent over and lifted the derk’s large head, waiting for Janen to pick up its legs.

As they worked, Janen had to concentrate on not staring at the sergeant. Everything about the man evoked a feeling of awe and admiration in Janen. He led with such authority, he was so confident and dignified, but he didn’t lord it over anyone and was always shouldering the most gruesome jobs himself. Janen thought he could follow him to the ends of the earth.

When they were finished, Janen began to head back to his place to clean up. Others had prepared the rocweeds for a fire. They would have a pyre for what was left of their families and friends, come dusk.

“Janen”.

Janen turned to see his father’s cousin behind him. He had noticed him earlier, helping to carry derks out of the other end of the village. They clasped each other’s arms firmly in shared sympathy.

“I have Clover out at my place. The derks didn’t make it up there before The King’s Horse arrived.”

“I’ll come collect her in the morning, if that’s alright?”

Darny nodded in reply and, turning his back on Janen, walked off in the direction of his farm. Janen watched him go. Darny and his wife had survived, but none of the village children had returned, and everyone knew they wouldn’t. Janen had often watched the delight parents took in their children and the love they lavished on them with a bittersweet wondering if he would ever know that joy. He couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to see your children die so young.

He walked slowly back toward his farm. He was glad to hear about Clover. His dad had leant the horse to Darny to plough their paddock. It wasn’t much of a horse, but she was obedient, hardworking, and surefooted, qualities his parents had always taught him were among the most important. Clover would, at least, be something for him to start over with. He wouldn’t have any money, the last of that having been used to stock the larder and buy supplies for the farm until the next harvest.