[calel]

Recently I found back one of my short stories that had been collecting dust for some years now. So after carefull adapting I decided I might as well share it with you all. The story might seem a bit long, sorry for that, but I couldn' t make it any shorter without ruining the specific atmosphere. Mind that if you are a reader that is easily upset or are faint-hearted you might as well stay clear from this one. Heh.
Hope you enjoy it otherwise.

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The air was damp and reeked of mildew. Little light shone through the cracks in the rocks, illuminating only a small part of the surroundings. Concentrated moist gathered on the ceiling of the cave and formed small drops that fell downwards, bursting open onto the cold, stone floor with a deafening sound. At least so it seemed to Gildan.

He was just moments awake, his head hurting and his temples pounding. He had no idea how he came to be here, no idea as to how his hands came to be covered with blood. Was it his own blood? He didn’ t seem to have any major wounds, only small scratches on his arms and legs. His bandaged right leg didn’ t seem to show recent signs of bleeding. No, it wasn’ t his.
Perhaps it belonged to the mangled Tryker corpse that lied next to him? Then how did it came to be on his hands? Gildan shivered when he threw a glance at the corpse and for a moment his stomach seemed to turn. He had seen death and Messab mutilations before but this was something different alltogether. This homin died no natural death, that was for sure. But to have been maimed in this way? Something really big and nasty, a bloodthirsty predator had to have done this. Another shiver ran down his spine and suddenly Gildan felt very unease by the thought of this thing still being nearby. Quickly he jumped towards the boomer rifle he saw lieing nearby a moment earlier, grabed it and scuttled back. There he sat now, his back against the rocky wall of the cave, rifle close to his chest. He closed his eyes and prayed he hadn’ t made to much noise.
An eery moment of silence ensued, the sound of falling drops and his own breathing and heartbeat seeming almost unbearable. Sweet Jena! Was this thing even loaded? Gildan checked the chamber of the gun. It was empty. Just his luck. To be out here, wherever that might have been, with no ammo and possibly being hunted by an unknown ennemy. He had to get out of here, fast. No delay, he had to act now. Much against his liking he quitely crawls towards the corpse. The horryfying prospect of having to rummage through the mutilated Tryker’ s pockets made him nervous. He put the gun down beside him and sat there on his knees for a moment. Hesitantly he rolled the corpse over with his both hands. A squishing sound followed as the corpse’ s internal organs dropped out of the abdomen. The warm sensation and stench reached Gildan’ s nostrils and he let go of the corpse in horror when he caught sight of the dead hominn’ s face. On all fours he crawled backwards towards the wall again, abandonning his gun. He crawled up into a ball as if his own bodyheat would bring him comfort. But it proved to much for him. Soon he started to heave and let go the little contents his stomach contained before. Trembling he put his sleeve to his mouth and wiped away the rest of saliva from his mouth. Tears were formed in his eyes.
By Jena! He had known this homin. His name was Jergo, they used to travel togheter. Jergo was a former guard and had a knack for close quarter fighting. Fragments of his memories seemed to return as he remembered them visiting the dieing tribe of The hunted Shell. They had been low on rations and other suplies and those strict natureloving Kami nearby had refused them entry and shelter.
There were others in their party too he remembered. Piu-Lan, a Zoraï mage and Yianna, a Fyros gunslinger. The four of them had had their share of adventures already after they had teamed up at Fairhaven. So it seemed like a good idea at the time to accept the plead for help from the council of The hunted Shell. What could have possibly been dangerous or difficult in tracking and bringing back or killing an exiled convict, a deranged murderer and rapist that plagued the tribe and hidd somewhere in the surrounding hills? He wouldn’ t pose a threat to their experience. At least it seemed that way untill they found out their prey had already been killed when they had found it. It’ s tracks had led them towards a cave that had been guarded by tribal eddifices depicting a large hulking monster or god. Recent offerings in the form of all manner of goods near the entrance seemed a bit strange but no further thought was given, the execution of the contract had been more important at that time. After passing through some natural passageways they had found their exiled convict, mutilated in a horrible manner; his limbs torn from his torso. Some of the limbs had shown signs of still lukewarm saliva. The only thing after that which Gildan could remember was an almost deafening bestial roar coming from behind them and gunshots being fired in response. After that he must have passed out.
He sat there, still shivering. He had to move. He picked up all of the little courage that remained inside him and closed on to the corpse of Jergo. With an expression of disgust on his face he went though the pockets of the torn jacket, trying not to look towards the corpse’ s visage. Great! He knew he had seen Jergo stash away some ammo shells in his vest. ......5, 6, ...7, 8 shells. Not much but it had to do. Gildan put the shells in his pouch. He checked the nearby slingbag next. A flare or two, some dried meat, a little bag with soothing herbs and a pouch containing dappers. He slung the slingbag over his shoulder, picked up the boomer rifle he had left there earlier and loaded as many shells into the rifle as possible. He still sat there crouching. Time to go he thought. Carefully he headed into the adjacent room, ready to react at the slightest danger.




Gildan unwraped the foil from the flare and knocked it’ s end on the cavewall. The force of the blow ignited the flamable substances held within the container and soon the room became lit by a dim and foggy red light. Slow rising smoke projected all sorts of creepy and dancing shadows on the cavernous wall, playing tricks on Gildan’s senses. His heart kept beating in his throat with the intensity of a raging Messabbull, but Gildan knew he had to try to get out of there. This was no time to let his fears take over his common sense. Still, what common sense was there left after having seen the mangled corpse of his former companion? And what had happened with the rest, Piu-Lan and Yianna? He still couldn’ t remember anything after the attack.
A sudden sound on his right alarmed him, like falling pebbles in the distance. Quickly he flinched, retreated towards the wall with his back, dropped the flare and gave a strong yank at the boomer’ s pumping mechanism; the clicking sound telling him the gun was ready to spray lead. He felt a slight shift in the air and turned towards it waving the rifle in front of him. There! He saw something moving and almost instantly squeezed the trigger. The nozzle of the firearm lit up and unleashed a deathwail that ecchoëd between the rocky walls. Then there was only silence and smoke.
This was getting all to much for Gildan. His heart racing and his breath choking. Sweat dripped from his forehead down on his nose and cheeks, blurring his vision. Nervously he wiped his face clean with the dirty sleave of his vest as he blinked with his eyes. The smoke cleared up and he could clearly distinguish something bloody lieing over there. He dared not to move and so squinted his eyes. It looked certainly smaller than he had imagined ............ Carefully he scuttled a bit closer.
A huge-looking Yubo! A darn Yubo! In all his paranoia he had shot a stupid Yubo! It might have been a giant one but after all it was still a Yubo. Gildan cursed aloud and kicked the critter’ s torn-open corpse against the wall. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, trembling, almost crying. He closed his eyes and flung his head backwards, going through his greasy hair with his free left hand. Then he sighed, walked towards the flare and picked it up once again to continue his escape.




He felt at peace lying there in the grass. The wind moved playfully through her golden locks carrying her sweet scent. Through their clothing he could still sense her heartbeat, feel her warmth and comfort. She loved him he knew. Even if he had to go away for a little while once more. He moved closer towards her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead while he stroke through her hair.
“ You‘ ll come back, won’ t you?”
“Ofcourse I will, you know that very well. It’ s like I told you before; one more trip and I’ ll have enough dappers for some decent Mektoub.”
“I know, but why do you have to leave now? Father doesn’ t aprove, with the harvest coming soon. We could really use the extra muscle now that the Rulers of Atys accepted Simol and Pjir into their guild.”
“Your old man is to pesimistic. I’ ll be back even before the next moon.”
“I don’ t know, I have this feeling....”
“Will you stop it already? Everything will be fine. This is suppossed to be an easy errand.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Here, take this along. It was my mother’ s. I’ ve worn it every day since she died. Now I want you to have it, to remind you of me and the promise you made, wherever you’ re going.”
“Your mother’ s ring?”
“Hey, carefull. I’ m suppossed to get that back.”
“Don’ t worry. I wouldn’ t even get a pint of Yubo Piss for that one.”
She punched him in the arm and he pretended it hurt. They both laughed.


Gildan woke up with a shock when a drop hit him straight in the face. He must have dozed off. How long had he been asleep? He couldn’ t recall. He knew he had crawled into a small space between some rocks, barely protected, but anything was beter than being caught unaware in the open. Carefully he tried to get up. Before him lie a huge natural cave with various cavernous tunnels leading further into the depths and a small natural lake. This place was a maze. He had followed some of the tunnels only to end up back here again. His joints ached and he felt weary and tired. Gildan opened the slingbag in search for some dried meat, only to discover he had already eaten all of it. He closed the bag, sighed and sat down. This was suppossed to be an easy errand he mumbeled to himself. Almost instinctively he reached for the ring he wore and gazed at it. The ring had seen better days, the metal had lost it’ s glitter and the inscription on it was all but readable now. How he wished now he had never left the farming community. Thinking of the one place ever he had be calling home made his throat soar.
He stood up and dragged himself towards the small lake. The water looked inviting although he knew there was danger in drinking from it. If only he had Piu-Lan by his side, he would have known. Gildan kneeled near the bank and put his rifle beside him on the ground. He drank hastely of the cool water with both of his hands and then decided to submerge his head, washing of the dirt. When he resurfaced and reeled his head backwards a nearby bestial roar surprised him from behind. It was very close, to close for comfort. His shaggy hair hung in his eyes, diminishing his visibility to near blindness when he jumped for his weapon. Something heavy hit him in the neck and his vision turned red. Everything faded.




Gildan opened his soarfull eyes. His throat was dry and his head ached as he lie there on the cavernfloor. He tried to move but couldn’ t. A sickening crunching noise alerted him and he saw a huge shadow cast on the cavewall in front of him. The beast was feeding on something and must have left him for dead. Better not attract any attention and play along he thaught as he closed his eyes again. He heard movements. As if the beast was dragging something along deeper inside the caves. The sounds grew louder as the beast passed him by. Gildan couldn’ t control his curriosity to catch a glimpse of the thing and risked to open his eyes. He saw a corpse being dragged along. A headless corpse. A terribly maimed corpse, the ribcage torn open by razor-sharp claws and teeth. A corpse wearing a ring on one of it’ s fingers. A corpse wearing his ring! As he realised the horrifying extend of the truth Gildan let out a soundless scream that spoke louder than any other sound he had ever heard. After that there was only desolation and silence.