dark motes skipping grimly over the bleak land. Overhead, the sky careered haplessly from red to white, spinning shadows around and around with giddy discord as the volley of twinned lightning bolts seared their way along steep curves. Ozzie had seen old documentary videos of soldiers storming ashore in wartime, and the charge of the Silfen was almost identical to that. A breathtaking insanity that made him want to scream encouragement.
The first icewhale reached the rim, and just kept on going at the same speed. Ozzie couldn’t believe anything that huge could move so fast. Its head was still scything from side to side, tusks snapping in berserk rage. Silfen fanned out around it. Several spears were thrown. These didn’t burst into a monochromatic blaze, but held true. They had little effect when they struck the flanks of the icewhale, its matted fur was so thick that most hit and rebounded to clatter on the ground. Those that did manage to stick their tips into whatever flesh was underneath didn’t penetrate far. They simply enraged the creature further. Its body bucked and twisted, contorting to allow its legs to scrabble at the slim poles like a dog scratching at fleas. Those Silfen who had thrown their spears started to retreat; several of them were pulling their bows around ready to shoot arrows. Ozzie had seen no sign of eyes anywhere amid the icewhale’s fur, but it seemed to know where its tormentors were. It lunged forward, giant muzzle snapping. Three tusks sliced straight through a Silfen. Jets of ebony blood squirted from the killer punctures. Then the muzzle sprang open again, ripping the body apart. Legs spun off one way, while the torso flopped to the ground. The icewhale thundered over it, and charged at another Silfen who was falling backward even as he tried to notch an arrow.
Orion screamed in horror.
“It’s all right,” Ozzie shouted. He hugged the boy, turning him away from the carnage. “I promise you he’s all right. They don’t die. Do you understand? The Silfen don’t die. They have an afterlife, a real heaven.”
The boy was shaking violently inside his embrace. “It ate him!” he wailed. “It ate him!”
“No it didn’t. It can’t. They’re too hot. It would burn its mouth away if it tried to do that.”
“But he’s dead.”
“No! I told you. The Silfen go to their own heaven. I’m not bullshitting you, man. That’s the way they are.”
Orion clung to him, his head pressed hard against Ozzie’s chest. “Will the monsters come for us? Please, Ozzie, I don’t want to die. I won’t go to heaven, I know I won’t.”
“Hey,” Ozzie squeezed reassuringly. “Yes you would. It’s me that’s headed down into the heat. Why do you think I keep having to get rejuvenated? The big bad dude with the pitchfork and an attitude is all that’s waiting for me.”
There was no answer; no smart or sarcastic comeback. Ozzie hugged the boy again, and took a quick look down at the hunt. The last of the aggressive spears from the riders had been flung, leaving the red sun victorious in the battle to light the sky. There were four icewhales on the land now, one of them even bigger than the first to emerge. Each of them was encircled by fast-moving Silfen on foot; spears and arrows were fired inward, black flecks shimmering through the air. Most still bounced off the tough lank fur, though the numbers sticking were increasing. Over a dozen Silfen were dead already, torn apart or mashed into the unyielding ground. Blood ran thick from their ruined bodies, steaming feverishly and boiling the snow before the pools and runnels started to freeze.
“Come on,” Ozzie urged. “Let’s get inside and take a major break from this bummer.” Any residual excitement he’d had at the prospect of witnessing the hunt had long since washed away beneath the guilt of bringing the boy here. He half carried him toward the nearest tent.
“They won’t come up here, will they?” Orion asked in a pitiful voice.
“No. I promise.”
Sara caught sight of them stumbling toward the tent together, and hurried over. “Are you all right?”
“No he’s fucking not,” Ozzie barked at her. “You might have told me.”
“It’s a hunt. What did you expect?”
Ozzie’s anger spluttered out. She was right. What had I expected it to be like? Just another TSI spectacular?
Sara tugged at the lacing that held the flaps on the outermost layer. Ozzie sneaked another look down below, making sure his body blocked Orion’s view. The sight was growing more surreal. The Silfen death count had risen to over twenty. Three of the elfin folk had managed to climb onto the back of an icewhale, hanging on to its fur and riding it like the wildest bronco in the galaxy. As he watched, one of them was swatted by the icewhale’s foot, tumbling a long way through the air before crashing onto rock. The surviving two were trying to thrust their spears down into the ruff of fur behind its neck, and having a hard time of it.
A second icewhale was plowing straight through a spinney of crystal trees. It was like an unstoppable bulldozer, bursting the trunks apart into dangerous sparkling shrapnel clouds as it hit them head-on. The sound was already reverberating over the escarpment, a city of glass caught in an earthquake. Silfen were having trouble dodging trees and spinning shards as they ran alongside, trying to take a shot.
As for the third icewhale… Ozzie’s brow crumpled into a frown. Five dead Silfen marked its path from the crater. The fight it had given them was tremendous, and now it was weakening, slowing. It had never been so vulnerable. Yet instead of pressing home their advantage, the blood-crazed elven folk were giving it a wide berth. Its back and flanks were pierced by over a dozen arrows and spears, its head wavered giddily from side to side. Obviously in distress, the icewhale came to an exhausted halt. As it did so, the Silfen began to form two loose lines, creating an avenue that led back to the crater. They held their spears aloft in salute. The icewhale turned sluggishly, and began its long labored trek back to the crater and the safety of the ice granules.
“In you go,” Sara said. She’d opened the tent up. Ozzie pushed Orion through the gap, and followed him quickly. Sara came in with them. Orion sat numbly on one of the cots. Ozzie took off his balaclava mask, letting his hair spring out. He produced a thermos out of his coat’s big pocket. “I want you to drink some of this. It’s hot, it’ll do you good.”
The boy made a halfhearted attempt to pull his hood off. Sara helped him. Then Ozzie almost forced the juice down his throat. He’d never seen the boy look so upset before. Tears were clogging his young distressed eyes.
“Pretty bad, wasn’t it?”
Orion just nodded mutely.
“That one they’re letting get away,” Ozzie said. “What’s that all about?”
“The icewhales have a reserve energy store,” Sara said. “It’s roughly their equivalent of adrenaline hitting the human bloodstream. They use it to get themselves between craters, or fight for territory. Catch their food, too, for all I know. But they take a long time to fill that reserve, and they can burn it off real fast. Once it’s run out, they’re basically screwed. The Silfen don’t see any sport in hunting something that just sits there while they shoot it full of arrows, so they make sure it gets back to the crater.”
“They’re crazy,” Ozzie said. “The whole thing is just fucking stupid.”
“You’re the one who thinks they only live at this level to experience, remember.”
“Yeah.” He plonked himself down on the cot next to Orion. “I remember.”
Sara studied the pair of them for a moment. “I’ve got to get back out there. I’ll let you know when the hunt’s over. It won’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
Orion didn’t say a word, just sat there with the thermos held in his hands.
“It won’t happen again,” Ozzie said to the boy eventually. “Wherever we wind up, it won’t be the same as this shitforsaken dump.”
There was a long moment, then Orion suddenly exploded into motion. He clawed at the front of his fur coat, pulling it open, then he went for his sweater’s collar. “I hate them,” he yelled. “I hate them, Ozzie, they’re not what everyone said. They’re not my friends. How can I be friends with people who do that?” He pulled out the pendant, and tugged hard, breaking the chain. “They’re not my friends.” The shimmering pendant was flung across the tent. “What have they done with my parents?”
“Hey, man, they didn’t do nothing to your parents. I promise you that.”
“How? How can you promise? You don’t know.”
“They’re not evil. I know what’s happening out there doesn’t look nice, but they don’t deliberately hurt people. Your mom and dad will be walking the paths quite happily. Remember what Sara said: they never showed up here. You ask me, this planet is a dead end as far as the paths are concerned. The Silfen don’t bother with it much.”
Orion shook his head, and hunched up. “They’re so cruel.”
“These ones are, yeah. All living things seem to be at some stage in their evolution. We just picked a bad stage to see them at today, is all.”
“Oh.” The boy sniffed, and took a drink of the juice. “Do you think this stage is before they visit Silvergalde or after?”
“Hey, good question. I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.”
“I think it’s before. You have to know what’s awful in the world before you can appreciate what’s good.”
“Shit. How old are you?”
“Don’t know really, not out here where the paths mess with time like Sara said.”
“Well that was totally profound for a fourteen-year-old.”
“I’m fifteen! Probably sixteen now.”
“Okay, ninety percent profound.” Ozzie walked over to the pendant. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this with me.”
Orion grunted with perfect teenage sullenness. “Don’t care.”
“Good. You never know, it might just guide us to some of the nicer Silfen.” The pendant was still alight and undamaged; he slipped it into his trouser pocket where it was less likely to fall out. “You okay now? We should wrap up again and get back out there.”
“I’m okay, I suppose.”
When they emerged from the tent, Tochee had pressed a small strip of parchment up against its sledge windscreen. It read: WHAT IS WRONG?
Ozzie wasn’t about to go through the whole writing procedure outside. He made a few simple arm gestures, ending with a thumbs-up. Orion was nudged to do the same. Tochee waved at them, and withdrew the parchment.
“They’ve killed them, look,” Orion said miserably.
Below the escarpment, three icewhales lay dead on the rocky ground, their fur tacky with dark blood from many wounds. Over thirty Silfen bodies shared their fate. The survivors were gathered around the massive beasts they’d brought down. Ozzie zoomed in on the nearest for a close-up. Two of the Silfen were hacking their way into the icewhale with long scimitar blades; they’d already peeled back a wide triangular section of the outer skin, and were now cutting deep into the body cavity. Gooey fluid and bulbous ribbons of offal spilled out around their feet. He saw them pull out an organ that was half the size of an adult human. The remaining Silfen gathered around. One by one they cut out a section and with great ceremony started to eat.
