Ahead of me the dimness of the forest gave way to an ever-increasing light. At the edge of the woodlands, I peered cautiously out onto a sunlit, boulder-strewn grassland from my perch on a high kakkata branch. The boulders were massive, and scattered as if game pieces thrown down by a giant's hand. The screaming had ceased and I soon saw why. Three bodies lay to the left of my sight line, silent in the damp grass. Two were close together and the third was about twenty-five paces from them. I recognized an item of clothing on the body of the one apart from the others, a distinctive leather belt studded with colored stones.
The belt’s owner was Panka, a man I did not know well, but who held esteem as a competent hunter. Panka’s head was off to the side, facing away from me, severed from his body. I could not take my eyes away from the gruesome sight, compelled to stare at the bloody, matted hair that would never grow again.
Something, or someone, had attacked the hunting party, and it appeared our hunters had gotten the worst of it. I glanced over to the other two and assumed they had fought and died together. I could not make out who they were, but one was a plump, older man with white hair. Father and son perhaps, for they wore clothing decorated in a similar fashion. The old man was face down, with the flesh of his back ripped and red. The other stared with blank eyes at the sky—and he had no legs.
A muffled shout diverted my attention from the grisly scene. To my right, someone had yelled, but large boulders prevented me from identifying the source. I climbed higher into the kakkata and from that elevated position spied a desperate struggle unfolding. The great hunter Semral had wedged himself between two boulders. The boulders were near enough to each other to provide a small pocket of protection from the unworldly terror that tormented him—a can-rak!
If anyone had been watching me at that point, I know what that person would have seen. He or she would have seen a mouth as open as a spartok’s on a spit and eyes sized to rival the twin moons Numa and Nima. For this was an animal I could not have imagined. I had encountered a young can-rak in a vision years before, but this was an adult—and there was no comparison. Its size was incredible! It would require two men standing feet upon shoulders just to reach the lower jaw of this green-skinned monster. The mane rimming its massive head sported the colors of fire, and white tools of death lined its potent mouth. Its incisors existed to rip and slice. Its throat could swallow a man whole.
The can-rak circled the pair of boulders. Its tapered, powerful tail whipped in wicked excitement back and forth as the creature growled and shrieked. It appeared to be attempting to surprise Semral with his back turned, for the hunter could focus in but one direction at a time. I could see the can-rak was too massive to fit between the rocks and it could not get at Semral from the top. Still, its lethal claws reached in, forcing the hunter to rear back. The beast’s quickness astounded! With one leap it could land on either side of the boulders, forcing Semral to react. And Semral was injured. I saw that now. His left arm was useless, hanging bloody by his side.
The hunter called out again to someone I could not see. A slight movement caught my attention. I hadn’t noticed him before, as the man had concealed himself behind a boulder. He was a dozen paces beyond the rocks protecting Semral, and by straining my eyes I determined who he was—Bratar. What was he doing? Why didn’t he come to Semral’s aid?
Before long, I knew. For when Semral voiced again his desire for Bratar’s assistance, Bratar rose up and ran. He raced as fast as his bulky legs could move in the direction opposite the can-rak and away from the certainly doomed Semral. I sat crouched upon my high kakkata branch in stunned disbelief. Then I spat and cursed the coward’s name.
I would have to do something. Wait! My bracelet! I ran my sight over the bones and a frantic disbelief took hold. No can-rak bone. Why was there no can-rak bone? My father had given me a new bracelet recently, aware my old one was falling apart. I, of course, had paid little attention, as my focus had been on the upcoming hunt. Had my father forgotten to add the beast’s bone to the bracelet? Still, now that I thought of it, there hadn’t been a can-rak bone on the other bracelet either. Why?
I had no time to ruminate over any of this. I had to act. My spear was back at the other kakkata tree and I had no time to retrieve it. I still had my rik-ta, but what use would that be? The can-rak would never allow me get close enough to let it do its work.
I hurried down from my perch and once on the ground headed straight for Semral. I had no plan. My death was certain, of that I had no doubt. Yet I would not stand by and let my fellow tribesman die without giving the can-rak a fight. Of course, what fight could there be? The can-rak would laugh at me when it saw me coming—and then I would be its meal.
Semral still called for Bratar as I made my way to him. He had not seen Bratar depart, apparently, and was still hoping for the coward’s assistance. The calling then ceased. My stomach jumped and I feared I was too late. I ran. The can-rak heard me. It wheeled, delivered a menacing snarl, and then emitted that annoying shriek. What now? I still had no plan.
I pulled my rik-ta from its sheath and held it loosely in my palm. To my surprise, as I approached the can-rak, I felt relaxed. Shouldn’t I feel terror, like those poor men now lying shredded on the grass? Yet, for some reason, rather than feeling fearful, I felt expectant. Something strange was happening here, something I hadn’t anticipated. The can-rak had stopped its growling and that god-awful shrieking. It was sniffing the air and walking toward me—walking toward me. It was not running, not leaping, not in any hurry whatsoever. I steadied myself, alert to any sudden, threatening move. As the fearsome, yellow-eyed beast continued its calm approach, I heard an unusual sound. Humming. The beast was humming! It was a low tone repeated every few seconds.
Then, the can-rak did what I still have a hard time comprehending. It rolled over onto its back, assuming a posture of complete submission. I approached with caution, half expecting this to be a wily can-rak trick to lull me into lowering my guard. Yet all was as it seemed. The beast had turned docile and it was even playfully pawing at me in gentle swipes with its claws retracted. What in the name of Ra-ta was happening? Why was this animal behaving like this? I had no bone to command it with and I had not spoken a word. So why was it acting so calm and at ease in my presence?
Then, I got it. The can-rak was my spirit animal! Perhaps we had some connection, an understanding that went beyond bones and words. My father had told me he was unable to work the bracelet bones, but as a shaman still had control over his spirit animal, the sartel. So was it the same for me? Did I have control over this can-rak simply because it was my spirit animal?
At that moment a low groan emanated from the boulders where Semral had taken refuge. The can-rak heard and sprang to its feet with a vicious growl. In a flash, it leapt toward the rocks.
“STOP!” I shouted, and to my surprise and relief the beast obeyed. Then it looked back at me as if for further instruction.
“Go sit over there,” I told it, pointing to a grassy spot a short distance away. The submissive beast complied.
I hurried over to Semral, only to find him semi-conscious and babbling with delirium. His wounded arm looked ragged. I knew I had to find some tritan flowers to make a poultice.
The great beast sat calmly, humming away. I had a dilemma. If I left to go seek the flowers, would the can-rak stay, or would it attack Semral when I departed? I didn’t know, as this was all new and incomprehensible to me. Perhaps I could just tell the beast to leave.
So I said, “Go, can-rak, and please do not attack any other men.” The can-rak rose to all fours and then briskly trotted off to the north across the plains. I watched in astonishment as it departed, knowing I would have many questions for my father when I got back to camp. For instance, why did the can-rak obey my commands without a bone? And for how long are the commands in effect? I was sure it couldn’t be permanent, for that
was not practical. And how specific did commands have to be? I was eager to learn the answers.
As the can-rak faded from sight, I pulled the hunter from between the boulders. Semral was a large-boned, tall man of considerable weight, but my muscular training had been rigorous and I managed to drag his frame through the still wet grass. I moved him into the forest out of the sun and found a safe place to tend his wounded arm. I wrapped some kanser leaves around the arm to halt the bleeding temporarily, but I needed water to cleanse the deepest cuts and reduce the chance of infection. I would have to leave him unattended while I backtracked to a small stream spied earlier while navigating the forest heights. I knew tritan flowers grew along just such a waterway, and I needed to retrieve my water skin from my other gear. I hoped nothing would disturb the now unconscious Semral during my absence.
Within an hour, I had returned with a handful of tritans and a skin of fresh water. I checked Semral and saw he still breathed. His smooth-shaved face was ashen and his gray-flecked hair soaked with perspiration. I had to hurry. I started a small fire with the flint and metal kit Semral carried, found a kakkata leaf to use as a bowl, and then heated some water. Kakkata leaves are surprisingly resistant to fire, so it was ideal for this use when no pots or pans were available. I cleansed the hunter’s arm cuts and mashed together the tritan flowers. These I soaked in hot water and then I placed the resulting mush over Semral’s wounds. I saw him flinch and hoped that was a good sign. The old hunter breathed in ragged gasps and moaned, so I knew infection had taken hold. His fever had only begun, and it would need to break before he was safe from the open arms of Ra-ta.
I sat with Semral awhile, but I knew I would have to leave him again, for a party would come searching and I wanted to avoid discovery. My father must be frantic by now, wondering where I had gone. When I got back I would tell him what happened, of course, but would tell no other. I knew also that I would not confront Bratar, much as his cowardice disgusted me. I had tried once before to discredit him and that had not gone well. I was a quick study; it was a lesson well learned.
Voices coming from somewhere nearby intruded upon my musings. I rose and peered out to the grasslands from the cover of the underbrush. A search party had arrived and it was time for me to depart. I watched them examining the fallen three and knew they would soon pick up the drag marks and blood in the grass; they would find Semral. I turned for one last look at the injured hunter and gasped. Semral's eyes were open and staring at me. Instantly they closed and did not open again. I wondered if it was just some sort of reflex, and that he wasn’t really seeing anything at all.
As I left, penetrating deeper into the kakkata, I heard a faint shout from behind me. They had found the brave hunter.
I told my father everything. He was angry that I had not informed him of my intentions, although he felt great relief no harm had befallen me. It puzzled me that he showed little surprise when I told him of the can-rak responding to my commands, despite my having no assistance from a bone. He merely expressed pleasure that I had at last met my spirit animal in the flesh, and in a cryptic manner acknowledged he had been most curious what would happen when that meeting occurred. Nanki’s face showed disbelief when I told him of Bratar’s cowardly actions, but he agreed nothing would be gained by making this knowledge known to the tribe.
“Bratar is like his father, it appears,” Nanki said. “Though I have not known Barkor to be a coward, he is as arrogant and dense as they come. Bratar shows signs of this and of his father’s cruelty as well. I have seen him bullying the young children. It is always those who feel a lack of something in themselves who take out their frustrations on others.”
Of all the things I told my father about the day's events, only one thing truly troubled him—my treatment of Semral’s wounds. Though he was proud I had done it, and with proper procedure at that, the act still concerned him.
“This is not good. A poultice will not go unnoticed. They will wonder who applied it. Are you sure Semral was unconscious? We cannot have him identifying you.”
“I am sure, father.” I wasn’t of course, as I knew the hunter’s eyes had been open, even if for an instant. That was a troubling unknown, but I did not want my father worrying over it. Knowing Semral’s feverish state at the time, I expected it would turn out to be nothing.
Toward evening the recovery party returned to the campsite. They released the three slain hunters to the care of loved ones. Semral remained unconscious, but seemed to be fighting the infection of his wounds and soon we would know how well the poultice worked. The return party was already conveying the unsettling news that some stranger had attempted to help Semral, which was unsettling to them because the unknown is always such.
Who would do such a thing? A Raab would simply kill the hunter and take his belongings. And who but a shaman or his apprentice would know how to mix and apply a poultice? None had been with the hunting party, as my father had been back in camp along with his six shaman apprentices. Had some unknown tribe sent their medicine man into our lands for some nefarious purpose?
The possibility of an unfamiliar shaman in Sakitan territory was a frightening prospect. What had this stranger done to Semral under the guise of helping him? Had he cast a spell? Had he included ingredients in the poultice that would turn the old hunter’s mind against his fellow tribesmen? These were not easily dismissible worries, for people believed a shaman to have considerable and mysterious powers over ordinary men.
A poser of equal concern was why the can-rak had not killed Semral or eaten any of the others. The whole day and the events surrounding it carried a whiff of evil to those who cared to offer an opinion. I just kept my mouth shut and let them imagine what they would.
Bratar, who no one had even noticed was missing, showed up with another wild tale soon after the return of the recovery party. The tardy hunter claimed he had confronted the beast after it slew the others, but lost consciousness when the can-rak attacked him, knocking him to the ground. He insisted he had recovered his senses but an hour ago and had looked for his fellow hunters, only to find them already taken back to camp.
“Why did we not see you when we came for the others?” a puzzled member of the recovery party asked.
Caught off guard, Bratar’s eyes betrayed a brief flicker of panic. I was the only one to notice, apparently, and he quickly recovered to tell us he had misspoken. He meant to say the confrontation had taken place farther away from the others, as he had chased the can-rak from the site of the massacre and went some distance before the can-rak decided to turn and fight. No one had reason to dispute this amended version, so all accepted it as truth.
Bratar’s dishonesty and cowardice were difficult for me to understand. Such behavior was rare in Sakitan society. To see it in the son of a council chief was especially disappointing.
Nanki, as tribal healer, supervised Semral’s care, and I was eager to know if the brave warrior was going to make it.
My father shrugged and said, “One can go only where the Raso flows,” an expression common to the Sakita. It meant that one’s life must follow the course set for it, a course already determined. Whether Semral lived or died was not up to him.
I had a different opinion. I believed one’s will could forge one’s destiny, and that no river could force you to follow its course, even one as mighty as the Raso.
As the days passed, Semral recovered nicely from his injuries and said nothing about seeing me at the massacre site. Relieved, I caught up on news that I had missed while away. It seemed Barkor had intended to lead the doomed hunting party that fateful day, but fell ill. Whispered rumors were that excessive inebriation had prevented him from leading the party, and in his drunken fog he had named Bratar to head it instead. That, apparently, had not gone over well with Semral, who was second in seniority to Barkor on the tribal council, but being a prudent man he had made no great fuss.
A few
nights later, as my father and I sat around our campfire, I asked him about the can-rak and my strange connection to it. I also inquired about the bracelet of bones, wanting to get a more detailed explanation of how it worked. In particular, I wanted to know about time limits, how specific one’s commands had to be, and when it was necessary to use the bracelet and when not.
“Yes, it is time you showed a greater interest in this,” my father gently chided, “for I was about to take the bracelet from you and give it to Satu.”
Satu was a young boy of my age recently apprenticed to my father. Throughout my father’s time as shaman, he followed our tradition of choosing up to about a dozen boys or men to serve as apprentices, those picked to learn the secrets of the medicine man. This arrangement allowed for the training of a qualified replacement able to perform the shaman’s tasks should something befall the current holder of that position. The apprentices were of different ages and entered into training at different times. Thus, the older were often, but not always, more advanced than the younger. When the current shaman was no longer able to perform his duties due to death or illness, the apprentice with the most training—or the one who showed the most promise—would fill in or take over permanently as the conditions warranted.
My father had recently chosen Satu, a crippled orphan boy with a pronounced limp, to join his stable of apprentices. Satu was the butt of much humor, not helped by his appearance, which included a thin frame and comically flared ears. The boy had gone out on his first hunt when he was eleven, only to have a porse turn on him, with its hooves fracturing one of the boy’s upper leg bones. That finished Satu as a hunter and opened the door for the ridicule that followed, as the reason for a male to live, especially a young one, was to hunt, and if you still live but can’t hunt, there is nothing more shameful. Although my father chose Satu only to give the boy some protection from the cruelties of his current situation, to Nanki’s surprise and delight Satu turned out to be a clever and astute student and had become my father’s favorite.
I waited as Nanki stirred the fire. When satisfied with its vigor he began speaking of the bracelet.
“So, you want to know more details. It is my understanding, through the dreams, that all animals you wish to command—except the can-rak—require you to use a bone on the bracelet. A command has a lasting effect of only about twenty minutes. If the animal cannot fulfill your wishes within that time, then the command wears off and the animal will resume its normal routine. If you change the command before it fulfills the previous one or before the twenty minutes pass, then it will abandon that command and begin to follow the last one given. The can-rak, however, being your spirit animal, will follow your last instruction until you change it, no matter how long it takes. If you wish for the other animals to continue after twenty minutes, then you must restate the command. The more specific the command the better. However, be warned. You can command an animal to risk death or injury and it will, so you had better be certain the cause is just and your conscience is clear.”
“And what about the bones?” I asked. “There are so few on a bracelet and so many animals.”
“There are ways around all such things, my child. There is no limit to the number of bracelets you can wear. Wear two. Wear three. It is up to you.”
“And what about the can-rak? Why do I not need the bones to command it?”
“It is as you thought, Sanyel. In effect, you and the can-rak are one. It is similar to when my spirit animal, the sartel, came to me after years of being an apprentice to my predecessor. I could feel the attraction, as if we were the same spirit. Still, there is a remarkable difference with you. I can command the physical form of my spirit animal only by doing proper rituals. The dreams told me that you need simply speak to yours and it will respond. That amazes me. I am still astounded that a can-rak came as your spirit animal, but I believe an animal spirit comes to a shaman or apprentice because it identifies with that person. Perhaps in you the can-rak sees its own ferociousness, agility, cunning, and fearlessness. As far as I know, no apprentice or shaman in our history has ever had a can-rak as his spirit animal. It is a tremendous ally to have and you should be grateful to Ra-ta for this powerful gift.”
Oh, I was.
**
~~SIX~~