The Unknown Mother

Read the opening

Chapter 1

Fen Jaibach placed a hand on the back of his neck and closed his eyes. The fire before him crackled soothingly, its flames dancing energetically around the logs. Its heat pressed against his legs, almost singeing the hairs. His thoughts replayed the several tragedies that occurred during the day, and his closed eyes tightened with embarrassment. His palms pressed harder against the rough bark upon which he sat. Finally, he sighed with futility and allowed his muscles to relax.

The log beneath him shifted as new weight was added. Someone had chosen to join him. He tried not to open his eyes. He didn’t want to know who, didn’t want to talk. He just didn’t want.

“Could you be any more of a fuck-up?” It was Rin, of course.

Fen opened his eyes and stared into the flames, trying to ignore the hunter.

“Seriously, what possesses you to do what you do?”

“It was an accident!” The words blurted out. Now, there would be no controlling the anger.

“I’m thinkin’ your whole life’s an accident. You know, your father was an okay hunter. Not the best, but at least he could provide for the tribe. But you…”

“Yeah, I fucked up.”

“You stumble through the bushes and scare off all the prey. And now, we’re all stuck out here another day.”

Fen sighed heavily.

“And what I don’t get,” Rin continued, “is why you had to do anything at all. This is your first hunt. You should be observing right now, not getting in the fucking way.”

“All right. I get it.”

“Oh, no. You’re missin’ the whole picture, buddy-boy. Let me explain this to you. Your father died. Your mother is widowed. Now, don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. She’s got a great body and plenty of other qualities. She’s got a lot of suitors to choose from. I might even put my bid in as well.”

“So, what? You expecting me to call you father, now? You’re, like, five years older than me.”

“You’re still not getting it. Your mother’s safe. No one wants you. I’ll tell you right now, if she chooses me, you’re on your own. You can just leave. Get the fuck out. We’ll be moving west with the game soon. You can go in any other direction. I don’t care.”

Fen remained silent. His jaw clenched. His eyes raged while the fire they stared at slowly faded.

“You think on it.” Rin patted Fen’s leg roughly. “Right now, everyone else here,” his eyes looked over the flames to the rest of the party members quietly talking amongst themselves, “is ready to drive a spear into your back and feed you to the wolves.” Rin stood up. “In fact, if we woke up in the morning and found that you had magically disappeared, I think we would all be very grateful.” He turned and walked nonchalantly toward a couple of other hunters sitting at the edge of the camp and laughing.

Fen’s gaze remained on the flames, their liveliness contradicting the heaviness caused by Rin’s words. He was failing as a hunter, a son, a man. Even his mother was losing interest in him. His fingers absently combed through the hair over his eyes, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

A sudden burst of laughter caught his attention, and his eyes shifted involuntarily to a group on his left. “Hey Fen, make sure to put out that fire when you’re done. The last thing we need is to be burned alive in our sleep.” The rest of the hunters laughed.

Fen leaned over his knees and rested his chin on folded arms. He felt hope seeping away, leaving him empty. A forlorn sadness began to fill him. The edge of his journey was upon him. A wall of darkness loomed ahead, and he knew the Great Nothing lay beyond. Maybe the gods would have mercy and allow him to one day return to the plains. But he knew at the core of his being that he would pass into the Darkness very soon.

The Vision faded. The glowing embers rested before him. The others slept soundly. As the cold numbness of the Great Nothing left him, a last bit of hope stirred within, and he searched for it, digging deep with Spirit fingers, sifting through the ash for one last ember, looking for a hidden option that could place distance between him and the Great Nothing.

They wanted him dead. He took their resources and offered nothing in return, making him a burden in their eyes, dead weight to be rid of before he pulled them all down. Despite the fire, his blood chilled as he stared into the darkness that path led to. His mind quickly turned away, searching for an alternative. He thought of various positions in the tribe, delegation, weapon making, weaving. Nothing called to him, and he was growing to accept Rin’s words. His head shook on its own, and he forcefully rocked on the log, fighting against the despair…

Hunting would have to do. He imagined luck on his side in the morning, a deer falling as his spear pierced its hide. Then, he imagined the other hunters telling their own tales and stealing credit for his kill.

His frustration continued. He hurried through the daydreams, testing and rejecting each one in turn. Hunters always embellished, promoting themselves while reducing the participation of others. He smiled, thinking of his father’s stories, like the time he had killed and cleaned an adult ilject while his hunting party stumbled back to the night circle hours later and empty-handed.

Fen considered the story. An ilject was certainly beyond him, but a rabbit, even a boar, might be within his means. The thought coalesced, a new path taking shape and leading away from the emptiness.

He stoked the last ember, bringing it back to life. He looked around the camp. Not a soul stirred. The sounds of crickets and night creatures would mask his movements. Slowly, he pushed away from the log and began to step lightly toward the nearest tree line. His pace quickened with confidence as the first tree moved behind him. After the second, his feet lifted farther from the ground and he began a light jog. By the third, he was sprinting as best he could, weaving through the trees, grinning with the thrill of escape.

Then, he stopped and slowly turned back toward the camp, staring into the darkness. The grin left his face as his jaw dropped. His eyes widened with realization. “Mother fucker…” His mouth formed the words, but no sound was emitted. In his mind’s eye, his spear still leaned against the log. He had left the camp without procuring any weapon.

It was too late to go back. His overactive imagination was visualizing all the hunters awake and laughing at his stupidity. The final burning ember of hope dimmed and was extinguished. His head fell forward, and he inhaled deeply, looking at his bare feet. A small horn made from ivory hung from a leather strip around his neck. It had belonged to his father, and now, he reached for it, hoping it could guide him somehow. Even with it held firmly in his fist though, he could still feel the Great Nothing closing about him. He shivered, stared a moment longer toward the camp, and then, with what resolve he could muster, Fen began walking deeper into the forest.

The stars shone brightly through the cloudless sky and the sparse woods, giving him enough light to keep moving at a steady pace. From time to time, he would kick a rock or branch, more frustrated with himself than the random objects that he encountered. He wanted to be angry, but the depression subdued him. The knowledge of his own ineptitude forced his muscles to go lax. His tear-streaked face burned with shame and fear. Without a tribe, he was crippled. Without any skill set, he was an invalid. And ultimately, he knew this was all his fault.

And he walked aimlessly through the woods. He kept going only because there was nothing else to do. His tribe… former tribe… had hunted these lands for generations. Fen couldn’t get lost, which only made matters worse. He could always find his way back. It felt as though they were continuously on the outskirts of his senses, like a phantom limb of which he was painfully aware. He wished he could sever that limb, detach it from his very soul. He wished that either it or he would simply cease to exist.

But to no avail. No gods were with him on this night, if they had ever been with him at all. There would be no granting of wishes, no magical escape from this lonely journey that was forced upon him by his own inadequacies.

And the night wore on, the moons slowly traveling across the sky, the stars shivering with laughter at his self-perpetuated misfortune. From time to time, birds conversed and crickets philosophized in an otherwise quiet forest. Fen hung his head and maintained his melancholy march, completely disinterested with the mockery of a life that tormented him so effectively.

To the south, the first sun began to rise, its red light crawling across the land. Birds stretched and fluttered before beginning their morning quest for nourishment. Fen laughed to himself. The whole purpose of life seemed to be survival. People struggled to maintain an existence that would inevitably be extinguished. There was no real point to any of this, and he was certain the gods found all of their impotent endeavors entertaining. He bit down on his lip as his existential theories pierced his heart, and his stomach growled.

Hunger was now stirring his listless soul. Despite his intellectual desire to be rid of this life and all of its cyclical meaninglessness, his body’s desire for food began to take over. He rationalized that a full belly might give him newfound insight, possibly allowing him to unravel these unsolved mysteries, and a sudden notion grew in the back of his mind. Perhaps that was his purpose, unraveling mysteries. It may not have physical benefits like food or shelter, but it was still a highly valuable commodity to have.

Fen thought this through until he realized his own arrogance. He pushed the notion away, believing it could do more harm than good.

His thoughts focused more on edible things. His mouth salivated. His teeth began chewing the air. It had only been one night, but in his imagination, Fen had been wandering for the past eternity. Finally, he looked up. The gloom that wrapped around him began to lift, and his vision sharpened. The rusty gears of his mind screeched in protest as they began to move. Any vegetation in this area needed to be cooked before ingestion, but he had never been good at starting fires. He could break off a tree branch and sharpen it. Actually, he really didn’t know how to do that either.

He suddenly felt light-headed, and desperation filled him. He had to do something quickly or the Great Nothing would be upon him sooner than expected. Of course, there was always the castle.

On his left, the structure loomed. He knew of it, the place where the Magic-Users dwelt. Everyone in the land had heard stories about the foreigners and their unearthly experimentations. They were friendly enough people when encountered outside, but all Jai-Nar knew to avoid their property.

Fen veered to the left, heading directly for the edifice. They might have food.

The structure grew closer. His hunger simply grew. He was now officially famished, but he kept placing one foot before the other, through more of an involuntary action than any real purpose. His very spirit seemed to be reaching for the castle, or more accurately, for the food he believed to be inside. He could feel his heart behind his ribs beating with anticipation, or fear. His options were limited, he told himself. These people were kind, his stomach asserted, and the conversation continued while his feet carried him toward the edifice.

He was nearing the last of the trees when a low growl shivered through his spine and paralyzed his feet. Fen held his breath and kept his body as still as he could. With only his eyes, he scanned the immediate vicinity. He listened with all his might. A roaring silence pressed down upon the woods, filling his lungs and suffocating him. A century drifted between each heartbeat. A sudden clarity augmented his senses, the kind only prey could truly understand, and he knew. As the world dissolved away, leaving only the hunter and the hunted, he knew.

The snap of a twig rang through the forest, a death knell reverberating from tree to tree. He turned slowly, catching the sickening scent of blood-matted fur. The wolf was wounded, but it was still more than a match for an inexperienced and unarmed boy. His feet were leaden and his legs rubbery. The creature before him stood half his height and nearly twice his girth. The fangs glistened in the dawning light. A crazed look peered out of its ancient eyes. It was dying. The blood loss and old age, along with some strange illness, would soon defeat the poor beast. It seemed the final task with which the creature was charged would be escorting Fen into the Great Nothing.

He didn’t run. He didn’t plead. He lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes. The sunlight gently bathed him. He saw his mother’s smile and smelled gremper stew. He heard a child’s laughter and felt the tall grass of the Northern Plains brushing softly against his cheek. He breathed deeply, savoring the smell, and his face relaxed. It’s for the best, he thought to himself.

The wolf lunged. Teeth clamped onto his neck and tore out his throat, leaving him with nothing but a silent scream. The smell of wet fur rested in his nostrils. The weight upon his chest knocked him backwards. The sound of birds suddenly taking flight rose and faded as blood pulsed from his neck and onto his chest. He reached for the ivory horn and clasped it firmly. He opened his eyes long enough to see the beast flailing about in its final death throes, and he smiled at the irony of it all. The darkness encroached his vision, erasing the forest at its edges. A silence unlike anything he had ever heard before settled almost unnaturally. The ground left him. The air relinquished his flesh, and the world was no more. All that remained was his mother’s smile.