Authors: Jared Garrett
Lakhoni
Lakhoni
Future House
Publishing
Cover image
copyright: Shutterstock.com.
Text © 2016
Jared Garrett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the
written permission of the publisher.
This book is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely
coincidental.
ISBN-10:
0-9966193-6-4 (paperbound)
ISBN-13:
978-0-9966193-6-3 (paperbound)
Developmental
editing by Allie Bowen
Substantive
editing by Emma Hoggan
Copy editing
by Holly Astle and Jenna Parmley
Interior
design by Emma Hoggan
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Chapter 10
-
Alone Among the Dead
This one’s dedicated to my
Kanab High School friends. I can’t thank you enough.
Lakhoni
heard the growl again. It sent shivers down his spine, his shaved neck, and his
nearly-bald scalp, icy with fear. It sounded louder.
He
danced with the forest like Lamorun had taught him, ducking low-hanging
branches, twisting around saplings, and lifting his feet high to glide over brush.
Am
I still ahead of them?
Lakhoni
threw a glance over his right shoulder. Bony branches and tree trunks. No
running figures—no moving brush. Turning quickly back to the path ahead, he
flung himself to the ground, only just slipping under a claw-shaped, low-lying
branch. His breath caught as he rolled, the late autumn brambles tearing at the
bare skin of his arms. He pushed himself to his feet and launched forward
again.
The
men he’d seen. Painted and terrible. Covered in straps with weapons hanging all
over. Hair in spikes and whirls that mimicked predators. They were definitely
the king’s men. He thought they hadn’t detected him. He had been coming back
from the hunt, practicing his stealth.
His
heart clawed up his throat. He had to move. His family, the village. They had
to be warned.
Lakhoni
knew it was a sin to act against the king’s wishes, but if he could tell the
village people to hide, nobody would tell the raiding party it was him. And
none of his family and friends would die.
As
his fear grew, Lakhoni lengthened his stride, focusing on the world immediately
before him. He allowed his senses to quest before him and guide his movements.
A low bush appeared. His back twisted instinctively, his left leg kicking
sharply out to the left and his right leg tucking under him. The moment his
right leg hit the ground again, he spun left, arching backward to dodge under
another low branch.
Pain
flared on his shoulder as the gnarled talons of a hibernating tree slashed him.
He stumbled. His right foot came down crooked on a root, twisting. He relaxed
his muscles and tried to roll with the fall, but suddenly he was tumbling out
of control.
The
river!
The
rushing water might be his salvation. Instead of stopping himself, he focused on
controlling his direction so he could enter the deep part of the water and let
the current take him closer to the village.
A
ragged stump jutting from the rough river bank caught him in the side. His skin
tore, filling him with blazing pain followed by shuddering cold as he splashed
into the water.
The
shallow waters of the late season meant that the current was not as strong as
normal, and after a few moments of disoriented scrambling, Lakhoni was able to
put first one foot, then the other underneath himself. He rose from the river,
slashing the frigid water from his face, his cool-weather leggings soaked
through.
The
raiders were surely ahead of him by now. His sister, his mother, his father—who
was still recovering from the battle with the wild boar—they had to hide.
Lakhoni
scrambled up the west riverbank, looking to the sky to get his bearings. Far
upstream he could just barely make out the Maiden, a distinct rock formation in
the shape of a woman with falling water for her hair. The sight assured him he
was still on the right track. He only had a few hundred yards until he could
shout the warning.
Pain
flared in his right ankle with his first step. He stumbled, nearly falling. A
spear of pain slid through his stomach to his back. He gripped his side with a
hiss. Warmth dripped over his hand. The cold of the river water must have
briefly numbed the wound to his side. Now the pain burned through him as if it
were the glowing, molten tears of the Fire Mountains. Lakhoni forced his body
forward. The first step lanced pain up to his knee and from his torso to his
head. Gripping his side, he tried again. He hissed at the sharp agony. Another
step.
He
stumbled and grabbed a nearby branch.
He
was not going to make it. Lakhoni gasped a weak shout. Not loud enough. He
pressed on, wishing Lamorun were running with him, helping him along. Lakhoni
gathered himself for a final burst, opening his mouth to call out.
White
hot pain exploded in the back of his head; blackness fell like a heavy cloak.