Chapter 4

Wun's ancient skull peered over the rocks and trees. Its eye socket created a large cave in the snow with half the giant’s face showing. Matra Deu once told Tad that giants had skin of stone to match their massive skeletons, thick enough for them to cover their bodies in ruuns, but the flesh of the ancient race had long decayed. One by one, the few massive skeletons in the Giant’s Graveyard disappeared. Kath, Bok, Rel—all had once given life to the Yonero. Now, only Wun’s body remained in the heart of the valley. Every trip to his grave site was dangerous, but it was much safer than the alternative of hunting trolls. 

Tad’s father had placed a chisel made from a gaal jawbone into the cave wall. The small target would require plenty of force to fracture the ancient marrow. Tad steadied himself, then swung the hammer to hit the head of the chisel. The ruuns illuminated with blue light from the head to the handle of the hammer. The wall cracked like thin ice. Some flakes of bone fell onto the ground. Grenrai moved in front to inspect the chisel.

“You need a wider swing. Otherwise, the fragments will break too short to make spears. It’s not about swinging hard. It’s about swinging right.”

Tad handed the hammer back to his father. Grenrai rolled his shoulders, planted his feet square, then twisted his whole body in a single arc. This time, the blue light of the hammer was so bright that Tad had to squint his eyes behind his eye shield. The cave trembled, followed by several splinters of ivory clattering to the floor. As he opened his eyes, he saw a pile of thin fragments that had fallen from the crater his father had made in the wall.

Grenrai handed the hammer back to him. “Since it's still daytime, we should be safe from trolls of Malkai noticing us. But don’t be careless. Too much ruun magic may draw their attention.”

Tad rested the hammer on its head and knelt to pick up the various bone shards. It was vital to have the best materials to perform ruunkalla with.

His father watched from a short distance. Finally, he spoke up. “Come here. We need to talk.”

They never talked when bone collecting. His father usually worried it would be a distraction. Something was wrong. Tad approached his father nervously. Though he was taller than his father, he always felt so small when he was about to be lectured by the ruunkalla master.

Grenrai took a seat on the ground. “I did not come out here with you just to gather bones. Matra Deu came to speak with us last night. She seemed troubled about something, insisting that we go to the Giant’s Graveyard today. She said that she had a vision.”

Matra Deu was the most powerful of the Matras in the Fenra. Tad remembered the first time his father took him to her tent. He had watched the old woman trace ruuns in the snow and her eyes roll back into her head. She began to babble stories long forgotten, not always with the same words but always the same plot. Sometimes she would say fifty things, but trace only a single ruun in the snow. 

His father had told him to tune out the old woman and focus, but Tad was always enraptured by the stories that she spouted. These stories were almost always of the past, but in darker times, Matra Deu could read stories of the future. Those were stories not even the ruunkalla were allowed to see. They were stories for her and her alone. That was the power of Matra Deu.

“It must be important if Matra Deu foresaw we would come here today.”

His father scoffed as he rose to his feet. “Don’t confuse foresight with perfection, and don’t confuse her meddling with compassion. She is single-minded when it comes to her visions. Petaba’s spears led to the deaths of two hunters, yet she did not punish him for such a thing.”

“Maybe she knew it was an accident.”

His father shook his head. “No. A ruunkalla master must be accountable for his work. Matra Deu knows that—and Totra Kuun wanted Petaba killed for his mistake. If she did not punish him, she must think the spears failed for another reason.”

His father pushed back his coat to reveal his own ruun armor beneath the fur. “What can you tell me about my armor?”

Tad was taken aback by this question. “Well, you etched the story of Parr. He was a hunter from the Lorung Clan who fell in love with—”

“No. Not the story. The ruuns. Look closely.”

His father placed a hand on his chest. Tad saw a similar light emit from the armor, a glow like his own. No, it was different. Dimmer, like twilight rather than moonlight.

“The magic is weakening,” he said softly.

Grenrai nodded. “Do you think that makes sense?”

“No.” Tad frowned. “I helped you make this armor before I even started working on my own. The story of Parr should carry stronger magic than this. Unless…”

Tad looked at his father with concern, afraid to say what he was thinking. His father finished his sentence for him. “Unless the bones themselves are becoming weaker. It’s why Petaba’s spears broke during the last hunt. It is why Matra Deu is interested in you. The Rimwalker’s story is a difficult ruunkel to create but lasts much longer than any story our people know how to use. Even with poor quality material, your armor will retain its power long after even my own armor.”

The old man rubbed his face in his hands. “I know I was harsh with you today about your interest in the outsiders. There is nothing wrong with wanting to collect scrolls and books, but you are the only one of the Fenra who bothers to read things about the outsiders. As much as I dislike it, your curiosity is what makes good you at ruunkel. But Matra Deu notices that as well. You need to be careful to not be so trusting of her. Do not let her power determine your fate. She has her own mission that may not be the best for you or our family. Do you understand?”

Tad nodded his head. Grenrai gave a solid pat on his shoulder. “We should head back soon. You used almost all of the troll fat oil for your armor, so Matra Kol is planning a troll hunt to get more for the clan. These spears will be our best chance to—”

Grenrai stopped talking. He flattened himself against the wall of the cave and motioned for Tad to follow. Tad quickly mimicked his father’s action. He knew this could only mean one thing. Something was outside of Wun’s Eye.

“Over there. By the rocks,” his father whispered.

Tad shifted his gaze to several stones piled next to the trees that surrounded the cave. For a moment he saw nothing. The trees and snow were still, with only the wind occasionally whistling past. Then he heard a soft crunch in the snow. Then another.

He concentrated on the sounds as he hid with his father. “I hear more than one. They are getting closer. They are definitely not Fenra from the sound of their footsteps.”

Grenrai leaned over and retrieved the bone hammer that had been resting on the wall. “Not animals for sure. Must be men of the Malkai. Their hunting grounds must be closer than before.”

Tad pried the chisel out from the wall. He readied it like a makeshift knife as he peeked his head further outside. The forest around Wun’s Eye was densely packed compared to the rest of the Giant’s Graveyard. He could not see any people from the mouth of the cave. He tried to catch a glimpse between each tree. He saw a dark red splotch between the pines. It vanished, then another appeared. His eyes adjusted to the light on the snow and finally he saw them.

Six Malkai hunters were stalking in the snow. Ogre blood ruuns covered their naked backs. The savage symbols were not sentences. They held no meaning, no stories. Only one message: kill. The hunters appeared and disappeared between the trees.

“Malkai,” Tad whispered back to his father. “They are not coming this way. It looks like they are going in the opposite direction. Maybe they are tracking a troll.”

Grenrai took a few cautious steps to look out from the cave for himself. “If they were experienced Malkai, they would not make so much noise. These must be new hunters that are trying to get their first kill. We should leave if they are not paying any attention to us.”

Tad began to move toward the exit when a scream pierced the air. The hunters that he had seen stood up like startled gaal. Blood curdling roars ripped from their throats. Stone axes and spears were raised as the raiders bolted away. Soon they vanished from sight into the forest, but their screams continued to echo in the distance.

Grenrai shook his head with pity. “Looks like they found whatever they were hunting. Let’s go.”

Tad listened closely to the sounds of shouting. He caught a few words in the Malkai dialect. It was a bit more clipped in speech compared to the Fenra, but he could understand enough to know that the hunters were closing in. Then he heard another language that was not Malkai.

“There is a Northfolk over there,” he said softly.

“Good,” Grenrai scoffed. “That means the raiders will be more interested in them than us. Malkai definitely hate the Northfolk more than the other clans.”

Tad shook his head. “I think there were others. Not Northfolk. It sounds like there are people from outside the Yonero.”

Grenrai looked at his son with disbelief. “Outsiders? What are they doing this far south?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they are working with the Northfolk. They must be from beyond the sea, because I think I hear them speaking feyleni.” Tad tried to get a better look through the trees, but he could see nothing.

“Who cares? Let them sort it out themselves.” 

More hollers came from the forest. Tad could hear that his previous estimate of the Malkai numbers was too low. There were about a dozen Malkai voices in the distance. The volume dipped and rose across the slopes. It was a chorus of frenzy that filled the Giant’s Graveyard. Screams punctuated the previously peaceful valley, signaling death and violence. He tried his best, but he could not ignore it.

Before his father could walk past him, he stuck his arm out. “We have to help them.”

“What?” The word spat out as an aggressive cloud of mist from his father’s mouth, blasting into his face.

“We have to help the outsiders and the Northfolk. The Matras have been trading with the Northfolk for the good of the Fenra. Even if there are outsiders, we can’t just leave them to the Malkai. This may have been why Matra Deu told us to come here. To help them.”

Grenrai loomed over his son, seeming to grow to the height of the cave. “No. We are taking the bone shards, and we are going home. We are not going to argue about this.”

Tad felt his shoulders tense. He could almost hear his mother scolding him to just listen to his father, but the screams seemed to be getting louder from the forest. He once again heard the voice of the Northfolk trader. This time it sounded more desperate than before. Tad looked to the forest, then back to his father. 

“But if they die and we do nothing—” 

“I said no!” Grenrai barked out at his son. His anger echoed through Wun’s Eye. “Go back and gather the shards. I won’t ask you again.”

Silence fell over the cave. Tad bowed his head and began to walk back. There was no point in arguing with his father. The Malkai were the deadliest clan in all the Yonero. Even if he wanted to help, there was little they could do. There was no point in risking their lives like that. As he crouched to pick up the bones from the cave floor, he realized his ears were met only with more silence. The screams had stopped. Where were the Malkai?

Grenrai remained hunched over as he surveyed the area, taking small steps out from the cave. Tad followed close behind with his eyes darting back and forth. 

His father slowly lifted the hammer above his head. “Run. I will be right behind you.”

Tad had rarely seen his father afraid. Then he saw something move in the snow.

He shoved his father to the ground. There was a rush of wind followed by a loud twang. Tad saw the ruun magic along his chest glow as his armor deflected a projectile. He fell on his back into the snow with a solid crunch.

He rolled over onto his belly, wet snow clinging to his coat, and looked up from the ground. His head rose just in time to see his father get disarmed and fall next to him. Two men were advancing on them. They had slender weapons that glistened in the sunlight. With no time to think, Tad grasped the fallen hammer, stood up, and swung with all his might.

The closest stranger tried to raise his weapon to block the strike. The ruuns on the hammer glowed blue as Tad’s attack found purchase. The collision snapped the stranger’s weapon in two. The man tried to dodge as he sucked in his chest to avoid the hammer, dropping his broken blade to the ground.

Tad took a deep step with his right foot to make another attempt to smash his assailant, but the hammer met nothing but empty air. Before he could find his opponent, a dense pain radiated across his face. His vision went fuzzy as he felt the hammer leave his hand. For a moment, every part of his body told him to run, but as he stumbled dazed with his vision blurred, he caught the outline of his father’s body in the snow.

Tad’s vision cleared as he forced himself to stay upright. He could see the next thrust from the attacker coming. Using his chisel, he hooked the attack and turned it into his chest. There was another flash of light as the weapon snapped on his bone armor. 

The man let out a cry of surprise. Tad pulled back and cracked his free hand against the man’s jaw. Before he could deliver another punch, he felt a prick on his neck. He froze in place as he felt the tip of the weapon behind him move a little closer, a blood droplet began to trickle down its side.

“Don’t move,” said a voice from behind him. “If you do, this will go into your neck.”