Date: Thu, 7 Nov 2013 05:19:41 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Black Dragon Rising Chapter 22 - Gay Science Fiction

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                                    *****

                             Chapter Twenty-Two

      I'm climbing and my arms are sore from hauling the hobbled former
slave of the grimlocks on a stretcher when a breeze brushes my skin. I know
I'm not imagining this. It's scented with mountain flowers, honeysuckle,
and other things I associate with summer. It's fresh and exciting and
pushes the scent of mold and clay to the far reaches of the darkness.

      I look forward to see if there's even a smidgeon of natural
light. Over the course of an hour, the air grows fresher. Suddenly, there
it is: a blinding spot of sunshine. The exit's draped in thick kudzu;
Riaken and his men cut the vines out of the way. Sunlight dazzles, and I
rush to cover my eyes for a moment when an intense pain stabs at the front
of my skull. Squinting now, I stumble forward and out into the world. We've
emerged upon the sweeping edge of a mountain slope.

      Directly beneath us lies a sparsely forested meadow. Huge spruce
trees spread their limbs out over knee-high green grass laced here and
there with flowers. Deer eye us from the bank of a bubbling brook. I set
the stretcher down near the entrance while the others crowd out of the
darkness and into the light. All of us revel in the feeling of warm
sunshine washing once more over our skin. It's been a long time since I've
enjoyed this sensation, and I lift my arms over my head and stare lazily
upward. Drifting clouds skid from the highland granite peaks; we're in a
ringed valley.  The mountains at my back rise like huge teeth into the
clouds, and they extend as far as I can see.

      When Talisac appears at the entrance he immediately moves to one side
and huddles under the vines. One of the guards tries to force him to
continue, but he snaps his teeth together. "It burns!" he yells. "Leave me
be!"

      "Come on," another says, gripping him by the shackles with a sharp
tug.

      Talisac grabs a rock and hurls it at the guard; it knocks him
down. Then Talisac tries to pounce on the hapless man when Talen
arrives. He kicks him with his boot, sending Talisac sprawling a few feet
down the slope.

      "Stop it," Talen warns him.

      Angelaria goes to the fallen guard whose eyes look a bit addled. She
presses a cloth to his bloody temple. As she bends over him, her loose
shirt falls open just a bit exposing the roundness of one breast, and it
makes me want to see more. I don't know how long I crouch there staring,
but I know I'd have been there the rest of the afternoon had she not seen
me and then promptly covered herself.

      She does wink at me though.

      Riaken comes up behind her then and she tells him, "He'll be okay."

      "He's more trouble than he's worth." Riaken replies. Then he nods to
me. "Are you sure I can't kill him for you? It'd be quick and painless."

      I shake my head. "I need him."

      "For what?" Angelaria asks.

      I look to her and think of something to say. "I mean...I promised I'd
keep him safe until we got out."

      "So you're letting him go then?"

      "Not just yet," I say. She begins to object but I cut her off by
adding, "I'll keep my word to him soon enough."

      "You're not telling me everything," she insists. "I know when you're
hiding something. The corners of your eyes crinkle up and your dimples
flare."

      "I have dimples?"

      "Oh please. Like no one's ever commented on your dimples." She twirls
a bit of hair around on a finger and does her best to look sullen.

      I roll my eyes and shake my head at the big sky above. Then I don my
killsuit helmet, but leave the visor up. "You know what you need to know."
When Talen hears this, though, he eyes me suspiciously. Still, he doesn't
pursue the matter on her behalf.

      In the meantime Riaken glares at the doctor.

      Talisac's oblivious to this scrutiny. He huddles away from the sun,
burying his nose in the earth, and trying his best to cover himself with
his coat. "The light...it's too bright. Let me return to the cave," he
begs.

      Talen rushes to my side.  "Hunter," he murmurs, "it's beautiful,
isn't it?"

      I love it when he uses my assassin name.

      However, before I can answer him, Cory sidles up. I guess I've given
over to calling him "Cory" because "Correldon" is too formal. "This is the
far side of the Icewall. Balsora lays many days ride from here and down the
mountain slopes.  If we follow the brook we'll get to the banks of the
Firehole River."

      "The Firehole River?"

      Cory laughs. "Humans...it's called that because of the geyser basin,
which drops hot water into the glacial runoff. It's an untouched river;
large trout teem within its grassy banks."

      I see Talen wink; both eyes sparkling like freshly polished
sapphires. "We'll be having fresh fish every day."

      I suppose I could live with that.

      "If you like to hunt, then join me. There's a flat area not too far
from here where Riaken will set up camp for the night. The men could use a
break in their diet; a little fresh meat goes a long way."

      "Yes," Talen and I both answer.

      "Excellent," Cory says. "I only have this one bow but we can take
turns using it."

      I think about what he's saying for just a moment. I know it's a great
honor to be allowed to touch the bow of an elf of Cory's stature, but
there's one problem. "I-I don't know how to use a bow very well, and
certainly not to kill anything. But I am wearing my killsuit. I can hunt in
this."

      Talen shrugs. "Neither do I, but I can learn. Everyone's a virgin
sometime."

      That makes me chuckle.

      "I don't know what your armored suits do," Cory says. "But I've a
feeling you might like to hunt without the aid of whatever that thing does
for you."

      "You've two apt pupils if you wish to teach them," I say to Cory. "I
don't think we could buy a better instructor...you being an elven ranger
and all."

      He regards us with those silver eyes. "Perhaps."

      Is that a hint of a smile I detect? Correldon's a difficult person to
read. "I should have asked you if you had any skill with a bow before I
asked you to come along," Cory admits. "But you might learn something
yet. Come then, if you're ready."

      The silver-haired elf walks down from the camp, and Talen and I moved
behind him into the meadow and toward a copse of trees. The deer in the
meadow below us bolt from view and disappear into the edge of the first
spruce grove. Correldon quickly strings his bow. Then he walks over to a
tree and carves a target into the bark on the north face of the trunk using
his knife.  Then, he shows both Talen and I the proper way of setting an
arrow, drawing the string, and letting the arrow fly.

      Honestly, it seems way too easy.

      Then he hands the weapon to me. I remove my gauntlets out of respect,
and so I can feel the smooth wood on my bare skin. I'm shaking as I feel
its weight; it's the first time I've ever touched an elven masterwork like
this. I deftly weigh it in my hands and realize I'm in the presence of an
artifact of great power. The bulk of it is carved from a single piece of
ash or perhaps yew, and it's much lighter than I expected. Furthermore, the
surface is engraved with shallow runes. Three of them descend toward the
bottom while three more rise from the center where my hand belongs.  The
runes themselves are set with fine silver and show no hint of tarnish. The
grip is molded and carefully wrapped in fine caru leather.

      I pull hard on the string and only succeed in cutting the tender
flesh on the inside of my fingers. Blast, maybe I shouldn't have taken my
gauntlets off. Talen sees this and slips his hands back into his so he
doesn't have the same problem. Cory offers me use of a ring specifically
made to pull the string, which is difficult to draw.

      "Thanks," I say, slipping it on.

      I miss several times, arrows flying clear of the bark.  My luck
changes on the eleventh try when I actually manage to hit the tree. Talen,
on the other hand, succeeds in only half the time.

      "Showoff," I say.

      "Don't be jealous," he taunts. Those are his last words because I
stop him with a kiss right afterward.

      "I've wanted you to do that all day," he says, running his fingers
through my hair and pressing his thumbs under my jaw as I insert my tongue
into his mouth.

      After about an hour, we begin our hunt and start in the meadow. Cory
cautions us not to spook the animals; as trained assassins both Talen and I
understand the necessity of quiet. Cory's surprise is telling when we're
able to match his pace.

      "You two could pass for elves," he whispers. When he raises a hand
for us to pause, I settle behind a gooseberry bush. About fifty paces in
front of us stands a family of deer; they're making their way through the
grass and heading in our general direction. We stay immobile for the better
part of ten minutes, all the while waiting for the animals to close the gap
between us.

      In a flash of movement, Cory levels his bow and lets fly an
arrow. One of the deer bellows; the bullet is sunk into its chest to the
fletching.

      The strength on that bowstring is incredible. It has to be magical, I
think.

      Before I can even blink, another arrow is aloft and buries itself in
the chest of the beast.  Cory puts it an inch or so to the left of the
first. Under the weight of its wounds, the animal collapses onto its
haunches with blood streaming down its fur coat. The family of deer
scatters into the forest.

      Cory leaps to his feet, and we follow him to inspect the kill.

      "Human hunters couldn't do this," he says proudly.

      "How do you know?" I ask.

      "Because none I've ever met have my skill or my weapon. And the
weapon makes a huge difference."

      I shrug, indifferent to his boast. But some of what he says does ring
true. At least he's admitting to the contribution a good quality weapon
makes toward a successful hunt. I maybe could do what Cory just
accomplished if I'd the right weapon. But that's a big "if." Constantine
had a lot of advice for me when I trained as a nightshade. Maybe when it's
my turn someday, I'll say something like "no matter how good you are,
you'll be limited by the weapons you wield. You're only as good as the
tools you use." It sounds wise, and I file it away for later.

      The elf turns to me. "Are you listening?"

      I raise an eyebrow realizing I drifted off into la la land coveting
his bow.

      "I said you've to clean a deer or the blood poisons the meat. Have
you ever gutted one before?"

      "I can't say that I have."

      "Well it's time to learn," Cory says. We descend on the animal, which
is still struggling to breathe with blood pouring into its lungs. Cory cuts
its neck wide open with a foot-long knife. The deer collapses on the earth,
its heart pushing the blood from its veins with its last contractions.
Beneath my boots, the mud turns red. We wait until the bleeding stops;
Talen's expression takes on a morbid curiosity.

      "All right, we need to make our first cut. On an animal like this,
you insert the knife at the base of the butthole. You don't want to rupture
the stomach. You'll get sick if you do, so you have to be certain to cut
around it. You also don't want to rupture the intestines or anything else
with the knife. Once that's done, you split the brisket with this tool," he
indicates, pulling an odd-looking device from his pack. "Once the brisket
is split, reach in and grab hold of the windpipe and pull as hard as you
can. The whole thing will come free in a bloody, gory mess."

      Talen swallows excitedly, and Cory hands the knife to him. "I'll let
you cut away...careful now."

      Giddy with adrenaline Talen inserts the knife. Blood red as wine
flows across the edge of the cut. He deftly follows Correldon's most
intricate instructions.

      "This kind of work comes naturally to you," he states. "Are you a
butcher?"

      "That depends," Talen replies, "on whether you're counting practical
experience or what I've seen in books. I've read lots of taxidermy
manuals. I'm fascinated by surgery and biology."

      "Really?" Cory says. It's more of a statement than a question. But
Talen answers anyway.

      "Flesh is incredible. In a church in Thorn I once saw the stuffed
skins of young girls on display in windows: they looked like living
dolls. As morbid as that sounds, the skill involved must have been
incredible. The skin was so lifelike, and the hair so lustrous...I think I
could probably have fun doing something like that."

      I stare at him strangely. This is a side of Talen that I previously
didn't know existed.

      "You mean...you think you could have fun stuffing animals?" I ask.

      Talen grins. "Of course that's what I meant. "Just...dressing flesh
is intriguing, you know?  And the more beautiful the flesh is, the funner
it is to cut and prepare. It's like creating art."

      I keep my mouth shut and swallow nervously just as Talen breaks the
brisket open with Cory's special tool. The crack of bone is unsettling, and
the smell that comes afterward is still awful.

      "You wrinkle your nose, young Hunter," Cory says to me. "But trust me
the smell would be ten times worse had he punctured the stomach."

      When Talen finally inserts his hand into the beast, blood runs down
his arm and drips from his elbow. Some of it splatters the front of his
shirt.

      "It's really slippery," Talen says, "but I got it. It feels good. I-I
mean weird to have my arm so deep in flesh like this."

      He winks at me, and I've to say, the enjoyment my boyfriend is taking
with his hand inside the steaming body of this beast is unsettling.

      "Here it comes," Talen states. He pulls free the end of the windpipe
with a grotesque tearing sound and the guts follow suit, plopping free of
the carcass. I almost retch in my mouth.

      "Excellent," Correldon says.

      He shakes Talen's bloody hand, and Talen stares excitedly at the
kill.

      "It's incredibly fun doing that," he says to me.

      "Why?" I ask.

      "Because it feels warm and smooth inside there," Talen
declares. "There's nothing like the power you feel having your fist inside
someone else's body."

      I take my blade and cut the head off the animal, and then leave it
for the scavengers. The three of us drag the carcass to the stream and wash
it before resting up for the long trek back to camp. The last sun sets by
the time we return, dragging the heavy deer behind us on a makeshift
sled. We constructed it by using two poles and some canvassing that
Correldon packed for just this purpose.  The thing was relatively light
compared to the burden of dragging a lame human through the passages under
the mountain for days in total darkness.

      By the time the moons begin to rise over the mountains, we're all
eating venison. And for the first time in days, I feel satisfied.

                                    *****

      Next up: Chapter Twenty-Three