Page 10 of Tiger's Trek
I’m a quick study too. And if you think you’re so capable, then let’s begin your first lesson. You should be able to smell the cooking meat by now. Try to find it yourself.
Stacia closed her eyes and inhaled, then frowned and tried again.
What is it?Iriko asked.
“Something’s wrong. I think... I think my tiger is missing.”
Chapter3
WHEN LEAVING FOR A DAY, TAKE A WEEK’S SUPPLY OF BREAD
Zakhar couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he woken in a strange place with his full faculties—unlike Danik, who he’d run into on one of the trails and tried to convince to come with him—but he had retained his bag with all his inks and parchment, including the scroll and their bits of food and supplies, a few traps, and a skein of water.
Then, to top things off, the young priest-in-training had stumbled into a clearing where he’d found a campfire already built, meat cooking on a spit, and bags full of supplies. As he rummaged through them, compiling mental lists, he believed such items would last him weeks if not months—that is, assuming, of course, there was no prior claim to them.
He called out, over and over again, but there didn’t seem to be any owner, so he sat down cheerfully to wait for the return of the traveler, knowing that most people, when they saw a man of the cloth, were very happy to share. After an hour or two of the most patient waiting, and offering the charitable service of monitoring the meat, not wanting it to burn, turning it every so often, he gave in to temptation and began pulling off little charred pieces, popping them into his mouth, rationalizing that most individuals wouldn’t mind sharing a bit, especially the overcooked sections. After all, he had put in a fair amount of labor and would indeed continue to do so to serve his fellow man.
Zakhar chewed with great satisfaction and continued the process of turning, pulling off pieces, justifying to himself that it wasn’t his fault if some of the most juicy and tender bites just happened to come with the charred sections, and he ate until he was well filled, or maybe even a little more than full. Then he sat back with his shoulders against a large rock and fetched out his parchment for some quiet study. He was busy marking translations onto new paper when, to his surprise, Nik zoomed into the clearing.
It took the young man a moment to slow down and turn around. While he did, Zakhar rose to his feet, stoppering his inks carefully before doing so, and cheerfully greeted his friend. “Nikolai! It’s good to see you. Have you come across the others?”
“Are you alone? How long have you been here?” Nik asked immediately.
“A few hours, I’d say. What about you? How do you fare?”
“I’m with Iriko and Stacia. They’re coming, but not as fast. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Zakhar agreed with a grin.
“But you haven’t seen Veru?”
“No. I have seen Danik though.”
“Danik? Where?”
Zakhar frowned and spun, then shrugged. “I’ve never been very good with direction. It was at least a half a day ago by my reckoning. He seems to have had a mental lapse of some kind. He didn’t recognize me at all and said he’s searching for his family. What’s strange is that I know his parents died quite some time ago. It’s the reason he became a hunter in the first place.”
Nik froze. “Did you say he lost his memory?”
“Yes. I tried to convince him to follow me, but he wouldn’t have it. He’s much more of a strapping fellow than myself, so there would be no forcing him, would there? Besides, I’m no fighter. I mean, look at me. Then I made an attempt to followhim, but he quickly outpaced me, and I’m no tracker, so I found a good spot, and... well, here I am.”
“No. I understand,” Nik replied without really looking at Zakhar. Instead, he was staring intently at the camp and the roasting meat. “What is that, Zakhar? Did you catch it? Roast it?”
“Well, no,” Zakhar admitted. “I found it. I’m not quite certain who it belongs to. I haven’t seen anyone, though I’ve been here for some time.”
“No. No. No,” Nik groaned, walking around the meat as if it were an enemy he needed to fight. “You ate some, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I did. What’s wrong, Nik?” Zakhar asked. “There’s plenty left for you and the others, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, Nik said, “No! I’m not worried about eating. There’s magic in this place. I can sense it. It’s just like the boots. With magic, you have to be very, very careful. It’s quite possible that Danik ate some of this, too, and that’s what caused his memory lapse. In a few moments, you might not be able to remember your own name.”
Crouching down, Nik inspected the fire. He picked up some of the ash and rubbed it between his fingers, then smelled it.
Zakhar swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “M-magic, you say?”
Though Zakhar was a priest, he knew very well that magic was real. He’d seen it with his own eyes. There was no denying it. Still any talk of such things might result in excommunication, exorcism, or worse! There was simply no place for it in the church. No room for overlap. But Zakhar didn’t ascribe to the old folktales, superstitions, and lore in quite the same way.
He didn’t think of magic as being evil like most of the clergy did. At least not all of it. He just thought of it as something one might want to consider cautiously and possibly avoid. Ignoring it was folly. Knowledge was key. Magic was simply about understanding the rules and respecting the power. It was much like how Danik described learning about a wild animal or being careful when walking on too-thin ice. Zakhar was certain that if he could document the various tools, types, or abilities, and find patterns, then he might be able to make such things work in their favor.
