Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 27.3 - Pursuit

Alam and Tajar rode single file through the forest in silence. Steady rain for more than a day had swollen the river into loud white water making conversation difficult. With nothing to do but follow Tajar's stocky horse for hours on end Alam turned his thoughts back to finding the name of his axe. Tajar had jokingly exhausted every name imaginable but still there was no indication that any of them were the name of his bow.

Sapphire doesn't look like she comes from the eastern empire, and her features are too dark to be from the northwest like Frost. That only leaves the south or southwest. But Tajar has tried all of those names with no success.

He held up the weapon and examined it closely. Speckles of rain collided and ran down the ancient blade. The craftsmanship still baffled him. Although he did not know much about smithing, he had seen enough to know that metal is either cast in a mold, or forged into shape. A cast weapon was easier to make yet at the cost of being more brittle. It would also have unsightly marks where the casts joined. The axe in his hands was completely free of blemishes and so far had not shown any signs of being brittle. Forged weapons, on the other hand, were beaten into shape and would show signs, even if they were faint, of the hammers pounding the iron. The axe had none. It also had clever embossed and engraved serpentine decorations on the sides of the blades where they met the haft. They would have been impossible to forge with hammer and tongs.

Perhaps the name has something to do with the snakes.

He examined the broad ring stuck on his finger. The serpent designs were almost identical.

"Snake..." Nothing.

"Serpent..."

"Asp..."

"Scales..."

"Venom..."

"Fang..."

Something magical perhaps.

He closed his eyes and focused his mind on an image of the axe and reached his mind out to it as if talking to it.

Asp...

Scales...

Snake...

Venom...

Fang...

A flutter. He definitely felt a flutter both in his mind and faintly along the haft of the axe. He opened his eyes.

"Fang," he repeated aloud.

Nothing.

He stared at it and focused his mind again.

Fang.

This time the flutter was stronger. He thought he also saw a faint blue glow near the edge of the blade which vanished instantly. When he repeated the process a third time he was sure that the blue glow was more than imagination.

"Tajar!"

"Yes?"

"I think its name is Fang," said Alam. "When I close my eyes and concentrate and say it in my mind I can definitely feel something like a small pulse along the handle."

"How did you come up with Fang?"

"By thinking about the snake designs on it."

Tajar took his bow into his hands and looked carefully at it. "Snakes? To me they look like dragon designs."

Alam looked again at the axe.

They could be dragons.

A few minutes later Tajar suddenly burst out. "I give up! I can't close my eyes and think of dragon names at the same time as leading next to a ravine."

"Good!" laughed Alam. "I would prefer not to have to drag you out of another river."

***

Gretch tightened his grip on the reins he had fashioned from rope. While Berlavi swallowed the final baby rabbit in one gulp Gretch climbed on its neck just above the shoulders. It was sleek and slippery from the light rain, but Gretch was secure. It hissed at him. Gretch growled back. He knew it was life or death for him. The food was gone, all of the large rodents and rabbits in the area were killed, and the scarce berries eaten. If he stayed here any longer he would perish. He had sacrificed his own food needs to keep the flier strong enough to bear his weight, but it had come at a heavy price. He knew he no longer had the strength to reach any human settlement on foot. His survival now completely depended on his ability to dominate the beast below him.

"It is time," he told Berlavi. "I see the way you look at me. I know you see me weakening. Yet know this: if I die in this flight, you die! I am the master! You are the slave! Now fly!"

He used his training stick one final time to smack Berlavi on the back. He reared up in fury and launched forward. Gretch cut the ropes restraining his wings, dropped the stick, and dug in his knees. The beast, sensing his wings free, stretched them and fanned the air.

"Fly, you brute! Fly!" Gretch roared.

Berlavi opened its mouth and let loose a blood chilling screech before leaping forward. In one, two, three powerful thrusts of its wings it pushed itself, with Gretch clinging to its back, into the air. The exhilaration was unbelievable. Gretch crowed triumphantly. The flier mirrored his joy and screeched in sympathy. Gretch's heart beat quickly with the speed and danger as the beast rose higher and higher with each beat of its wings. Below them the rocks shrank and the wide river became a brown ribbon of water.

"Now I see why you are so arrogant!" Gretch yelled over the pounding of the wind in his ears. "To look down on the world like this is truly a wonder!"

Gretch decided they were high enough. The critical moment had arrived to see if he dominated the beast or if it simply tolerated him. He slowly, but firmly, pulled the reins to the left. The flier ignored him. Gretch yanked the reins harder and stared into its beady yellow eye.

"Turn, damn you!" he shouted.

The flier shrieked a complaint, but turned nonetheless.

"Good! Remember! I am the master! You are the slave!" He loosened his grip on the reins. "Now we hunt."

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-Y. V. Qualls