Eye of Darkness (Part Fourteen)

Out of the darkness by the gleaming Leren’s side, a little horned deer, no bigger than a goat, came stepping without fear to stand quietly in front of the dumbfounded travelers. They looked at in wonder, scarcely daring to move themselves lest it flee. Finally, Thron reached out a hand and waved it in front of the creature’s head. It didn’t flinch.

“What’s wrong with it?” Thron growled, looking up at Leren. “Is it sick?”

“It is well,” Leren fluted. “Its flesh is wholesome. This one holds it. It will not flee. It feels no fear. It will feel no pain. You may … hmmm … slay and eat. This one holds it.”

The soldier shook his head, slowly at first, then with growing vigor.

“No. No.”

The emotionless figure turned its head quizzically.

“There are lands ahead, barren and foodless. The Morg males should save their store for … mm … the future.”

“It’s not right!” Thron roared. Belmok flinched at his side.

“Lieutenant,” he said evenly, trying to calm and quiet the soldier’s reaction. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with Leren’s little present? Don’t you like venison?”

“It’s not about meat!” Thron raged. “I’m not surprised you don’t understand!”

He paused and gathered himself a moment before he went on.

“A shepherd, right, cares for and feeds a sheep before he eats it, okay? A hunter must stalk and track a beast before he kills it. Even if you’re after a wolf or an Ogre, there’s always an equal chance it will kill you, do you see? There’s always a price to be paid. But this … this spell!” He spat the word out. “It’s obscene!”

Belmok stood silently a moment, then he sighed.

“Yes, I understand what you mean. I do see.” He pulled the knife from his belt with a quick, mechanical movement. “Nevertheless, there are good commonsense reasons that we should. It is … necessary.”

Before Thron could do anything Belmok had stooped and cut the deer’s throat with one quick slash. Blood spurted and it went down without a sound, except for the scrabble of hooves on the grassy floor. Soon even that stopped. Thron looked at Belmok grimly. The big Morg’s sleeves were spattered with red.

“Very well,” Thron said at last, gritting his teeth. “We’ll eat the damn thing. It won’t be a complete abomination of waste. There are reasons, ‘necessary reasons’. I’ll gather some wood.”

He turned at the edge of the shining light that the Ivra cast, illuminating in a ghastly blue glow the dead deer in its blood-thrashed circle and Belmok towering over it like an icon of guilt.

“But let’s hope our friend there never decides there are necessary reasons to lead us like that to slaughter. Let’s hope.”

He disappeared into the darkness.

There was a pause. Then Leren finally spoke.

“This one does not understand the Morg Thron’s reaction to the offering. Please to explain. Has this one transgressed some … hmm … societal restriction?”

Belmok grimaced.

“Well, yes and no. It would be hard to explain to you, I think.” He got down on his knees. “Do the Ivra need to eat?”

“Hm. As the Morg Belmok says, yes and no. We take in the energy of the sun, and light, and heat, and … hmmmmm … ilkannasitaril ikkorra … from other sources. A small quantity of water is also needful.”

“Sounds simple and clean. It must be nice.” Belmok’s knife went tearing down the belly of the deer and a squirming bag of guts spilled out.

He looked up.

“Our relationship with our food … is not so simple. We are down in the dirt with it. We feel with it.” There was another long pause while Belmok began flensing the hide away.

“This one does not comprehend,” Leren said at last. Its light flickered uncertainly. “But this one will seek to do so.”