Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos by Cameron Hopkin (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

old half-recovered ritual of the bonding trial to proceed. A circle of space opened around him as everyone gathered with their families and looked to him expectantly.

Pul turned to the stranger, shaking his arms loosely as the rhinoform faded and the brown of his skin returned. “Forgive us for a moment, friend. There is an important thing to be done.” The man nodded and backed away, letting the circle of the tribe close in front of him. At least he has sense enough to recognize that he has no part in this. The families had arranged themselves in an arc with the chief in the center, the horns of the arc pointed at Kest, who stood directly across from the big chief. Each man stood behind his mate, their children arrayed in front. The crones stood between the families, forming the links of the tribe. There were no old men. Pacari men never saw old age. And over there was Binmara with her parents. She gave him a slow, meaningful smile, but he was too nervous to acknowledge her.

Kest tried to slow his racing heart, but his body disobeyed him. This is it. Will they cast me out? The beast bond is at the very heart of what it means to be Pacari. What if he kills me in a righteous rage? His heart quailed, and for a moment he considered letting the moment slide, simply completing his manhood ritual as everyone was expecting. There would be other days, other times to reshape their culture. Did it have to be today? He stood proud before his tribe, feet planted and head high, but inside he wavered and trembled, and the terrible indecision had not passed when Puldaergna began the ceremonial words. For all that no one had heard of a bonding trial a moon’s turn before, the chief was fully invested in the drama of it now.

“There was a boy we sent out to the wild five days past. Are you he?” The big-hearted chief said the words with a smile. He was supposed to be solemn and stern, but he loved the tribe too much. It was a failing that the men muttered about in their cups, but no one truly minded. Kest certainly appreciated the silent encouragement, but it weakened his resolve even further. I could send them all back. No one would ever know.

His face betrayed none of his turmoil. “I am not.” His voice was steady and strong, but still his heart was pounding. The distraction of the stranger and the fight had jarred him, left him off-balance. It’s not the right time. I’m not going to do it.

“Then who are you, stranger?” Pul’s eyes shone with pride. He had given Kest nearly as much training as his own father over the years and had always treated him with care and respect. He would be so disappointed. Was changing the way of the Pacari truly so important? Maybe he wasn’t wise enough – maybe there were reasons for having the bonding be the way it was that he simply didn’t understand yet, couldn’t understand yet. Maybe he needed to be chief first.

“I was the boy who left, but I am that boy no more. A man I come back to you.” No, I am right. This needs to happen. We will be the greatest tribe of all the nations. I am right… aren’t I?

“A man has a beast. Where is your beast?” Kest had the sense that Pul had intended this to be a purely rhetorical question, but Kest stood by himself. He saw a few of the women tuck their chins toward their mates as they whispered confusion, looking around. He had walked with the rhino into the clearing on the far side where he expected this ceremony to occur, but now he was glad to be standing alone. The ceremony was more memorable this way. It made him more memorable. He cast his thoughts out strongly. Come to me, rhino. Be proud.

There was silence in the clearing, and then the subtle crack and crash in the brush of an approaching beast. A hush settled on the tribe, and then his rhino came around the last hut, trumpeting loudly as she came into view, swinging her massive head from side to side, swaggering as only such a mighty beast could do. A sigh of satisfaction ran through the crowd that sent a shiver of pride up Kest’s spine. She was the largest beast in the tribe by a fair margin, with no fewer than eight horns adorning her brow and nose and more jutting from her shoulders. And he had brought her. She came to his side and he put his hand on her pebbled hide. At his touch, she lowered her head in submission. “Here is my beast.”

Puldaergna walked forward and placed his hand on the rhino’s largest horn. Now is the time. This is the moment. Do I do it? I’m not going to do it. I can’t do it. The big-bellied chief opened his mouth to complete the ceremony, to welcome him as a new hunter for the tribe, and Kest felt a flash of contemptuous ire. Am I a coward, to leave off from what is right because I fear the disappointment of those who see not the path? Am I the chief they’re waiting for or not? He suddenly knew that if he did not act today, he never would. Come out! he cried out silently.

The words died in the chief’s throat as he heard more crackling in the brush. His head swung around in time to see a massive majka stride past the huts. It was old enough that its red pelt had started to fade to brown, and it bore the scars of many battles, but it was fierce of eye and heavily muscled. It padded forward without fear. Behind it came a great koira, one of the mighty wild dogs of the forest, loping easily by the