Page 6 of Darik's Quest

Darik bowed his head and sent a pulse of love along the mate bond, distressed at the resistance and pushback from the link. Whether Nicolle would receive any of it in the future, on another world, he had no idea but he had to try.

Slinging the pack over his shoulder and hefting the spear, he began a careful descent to the road below, He had to pause for a few minutes while another, larger group of people and carts passed by. He didn’t want to be discovered. He wanted a chance to reconnoiter and plan his approach to the people here.

Once the caravan was gone around the curve of the mountain, he finished his trek to the road and followed in their tracks. He figured having seen two sizable groups going in the same direction was a good sign there was a settlement ahead.

Acutely conscious of the deadline the goddess had given him, Darik broke into a jog, which he could maintain for hours, curious what he’d find at the end of this primitive road.

Hours later he lay well hidden in scrubby underbrush and studied the plain below him. The road descended gradually into the valley and there was a sizable encampment spread out along the riverbanks. With his enhanced Badari vision, he could see the details even from this distance. More people were arriving, coming from various directions and he concluded this wasn’t a permanent settlement or if it was, the actual population was increased by all the visitors, maybe for a festival.

There was a cluster of tents in the center of the gathering and guards were posted at regular intervals on the perimeter of those dwellings, doing patrols and regulating who could pass through the cordon to enter the elaborate shelters. Pennants flew from poles in the center of the special area, one taller and bigger than the others. The insignias meant nothing to him but appeared to be beasts of all types. He supposed at least a few were mythical. Darik wanted to avoid encountering whoever ruled here. He wanted to enter the campground, find a healer, ask his questions and be on his way.

People were coming and going freely, more arriving every few minutes. He heard music in the distance, reeds and drums, and the rhythm stirred his blood, as if he was at a ceremony in his time and the drummers were pounding out a paean to the goddess. The idea was encouraging and he rose, dusted himself off and boldly took to the road. He strode along with confidence, nodding to people he passed as they stared at him. A few called greetings at which he waved but didn’t try to respond.

Let them think I’m a gruff mountain man.

Warriors with black-white-and-red feathers braided into their hair were directing newcomers where to park their carts. Two of the men approached him and Darik paused, stepping out of the flow of traffic before the beasts of burden ran him over.

“Welcome, stranger,” said the taller of the warriors, making a hand sign. “What clan are you? You wear no insignia.”

“I thought all were welcome here,” Darik said.

The soldiers recoiled a little probably at his accent. “Indeed the gathering of the clans is a place and time for all Badari to rejoice in the blessings of the goddess,” the man replied, eyes narrowed.

“I’m from the far north,” Darik said, more or less truthfully. “I’m a wanderer by nature but right now I’m on a quest for the Great Mother and she sent me here. My intentions are peaceful and I’ll not linger. If you could direct me to the most senior healer here, I’d be grateful.”

“You speak casually of the goddess,” said the second soldier, who’d been quiet till now.

“I mean no disrespect. Quite the contrary, I owe her more than I could ever repay.” Which was true. Darik and his people owed the Great Mother a debt for their very survival, their mates, their freedom…for giving them hope for 800 years while they were tortured and experimented on. “But she has given me a task and a time limit, so if you could point me in the right direction to find the healer I’ll be on my way.”

He wished he was an Alpha, to exert a bit of power and pressure on the soldiers, who were obviously suspicious of him. Fortunately a large group of pilgrims or travelers arrived and there was a bit of chaos going on. The warriors at the entrance were yelling for assistance and the sentinels interrogating him turned to leave.

“Imgraye the Aged has her white tent on the far side of the camp, next to the river,” one of the soldiers said over his shoulder as he hastened off. “You can’t miss the banner.”

Yeah, I probably could. The packs had no written language, only trail signs which they’d developed and hidden from the Khagrish scientists. Darik didn’t see much writing on any surface around him but if there was, he wouldn’t be able to read it. Miracle enough the ancestors’ version of Badari was close enough to his to allow communication. He started in the general direction the man had indicated and shortly had to pause as a group of children ran across the path, shrieking and laughing and playing a game. He watched them in amazement. He’d never seen such happy children. Badari cubs were created in the labs and raised within the strict structure the scientists had established. Even after Jill had led the packs to freedom, the cubs retained most of their indoctrinated behavior, which had been a matter of life and death in the labs. Habits of even a young lifetime were hard to break.

The only little girl he’d ever seen was Hope and she was a happy child, but one of a kind. Seeing so many in one place transfixed him.

Glancing at the bustling encampment, he savored the moment. It was late afternoon, heading toward sundown and cooking fires were roaring, the aromas mouthwatering. People were mingling, talking, examining wares laid out in carts or on the ground…Darik stood rooted to the spot, taking it all in. This, this was what Aydarr wanted for his people in the far future, what he was working so hard to achieve—a genuine community. Darik wanted desperately to be a part of what lay around him. They were Badari, he was Badari…but he wasn’t, not really. The alien predator entwined in his DNA reminded him large portions of who and what he was had nothing in common with these people. And who knew what 800 years of experiments by the Khagrish had changed when it came to the Badari root stock. He resembled them to a large enough extent to blend in, although his height obviously confounded them, but he couldn’t truly be a part of these people. Darik rubbed his chest, where the constant ache lay, reminding him of his lost pack bond.

Staying here wasn’t an option, even if he was invited to do so. He had to get back to Nicolle and his pack brothers.

And the goddess hadn’t given him that as a choice either. Seven days—one of which was already nearly used up—and he’d die if he hadn’t completed his quest.

The thought was enough to get him moving again toward the river. He saw the peak of a white tent ahead in a cluster of others and walked faster.

He wondered where he was in the timeline of this place, as far as the tragic events which were going to end these people or their descendants and turn this planet into rubble, orbiting the local sun like a cold, dead ember. His mood was grim when he arrived at the tent he sought. Several banners flew from poles planted in the ground, neither of which bore symbols he recognized but this had to be his destination.

There was a small gong hung by the closed flap to the tent and he picked up the mallet slung on a string next to it and tapped once, producing a musical note which echoed. People passing by stared at him and he supposed he was breaking protocol or local etiquette but there was no choice. This woman might have the answers he needed to truly embark on his quest.

“Enter,” said a quavery voice from inside the tent.

Carefully Darik lifted the flap and stepped into the tent, where the lighting was dim, coming from a small fire ring and candles. An old white-haired woman sat on a pile of pillows across from him, with a low table in front of her. The table was a miracle of wood carving, with intricate details he wished he had time to study. He’d have to do his best to describe it to Yonn, who did woodworking as a hobby, when he got home. She had a variety of objects spread on the surface of the table which she’d apparently been studying.

“You aren’t what I was expecting,” she said with a frown, pushing the collection of small bones and polished stones into a pile to the side. Her eyes widened when she saw the clasp of his cloak but her next remark was matter of fact. “The omens said one would come today and here you are, but what you are I know not. A man mountain it appears.”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady,” Darik said with a bow. He’d never seen an elderly Badari before either—the Khagrish were ruthless about terminating each Generation at a set age. Her braided white hair and deep facial wrinkles fascinated him. “I was told you were a healer?”

“Don’t look like a man in need of healing to me,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him and inspecting him from head to toe as if he was a soldier at attention. “And you are who?”

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