Ardalia: The Breath of Aoles

Chapter Eleven - THE LEGACY OF ASTIAN

To begin with, Pelmen remained seated beside his uncle. We're about to move out of the Rameaux clan's zone of influence, he thought, anxiously. If we run into the murderers of Stenlen Milempas, we'll have to rely upon ourselves.

Aguerri Tenel's scouts had found no sign of the crimson shamans in the vicinity of the encampment, but that did not mean they were long gone, and they might have found a means of covering their tracks and hiding so that they might watch the comings and goings. In that case, the Halenors, who were moving around the carts like shadows, appearing and disappearing silently in the vegetation, would be the first ones exposed to danger.

The forest was not very extensive, and they emerged without incident. In the steppes, the sparse clumps of trees were all potential hiding places. The Halenors scattered, and Pelmen guessed they were going hunting.

What's the point of wanting to be a hunter if you're going to stay in a cart quivering with fear? he chided himself. It's not up them to take all the risks. Determined to prove himself, he leapt down from the cart and ran to join Symen.

"Shh!" said Symen. "You make more noise than a herd of nidepoux in rut. You have to learn to walk silently, or you risk not being able to fill your game-bag."

"How do you do it?"

Symen stopped and turned to Pelmen. "You haven't been taught anything, then?" He sighed. "You have to control your breathing and your sense of smell. Those are the basics that every hunter needs to know. If you succeed in filtering what reaches your nostrils, they'll tell you better than your eyes where to put your feet. Try. Breathe in and concentrate on your senses."

Pelmen obeyed, grateful for the opportunity to focus on something other than his fears.

"What do you notice?"

"The odors of grass and lichens. And your odor."

"That's too general. You have to go deeper, into the nuances. Forget the most powerful smells."

"There are other odors. Those of insects... stone... earth."

"Good. Those are the ones you need to keep permanently in focus as you move. Without closing yourself off to others, of course, or you'll become unconscious of dangers lying in wait for you. You're still in tune with the earth? Now, move forward and keep it in mind. More slowly! Your feet and your legs need to let themselves be guided. Do you sense something? Like a new rhythm?"

"Not really."

"That's because you're not bending your knees enough. Abandon yourself to the odors, forget your other senses. Use your breathing to master your movements..."

Pelmen forced himself to follow Symen's directives, but he felt awkward and his legs were hurting. Nevertheless, he watched his companion and did his best to imitate his movements. A part of his mind remained focused on the odors, to such an extent that gradually, he seemed to be able to filter them more efficiently.

When they sensed the droppings of a rocol, he made no move to take up his bow. On the contrary, he continued to study Symen's movements. The young hevelen drew closer than Pelmen would have thought necessary, to the point at which, conscious of his inability to remain silent, he was obliged to let him take the lead.

Symen progressed in fits and starts, and sidesteps, cleverly anticipating the capricious shifts of Aoles. Pelmen engraved in his mind the fashion in which he grasped his bow, fitting a thorn and taking aim at his target promptly.

Hit in the side, the rocol attempted to take off, uttering shrill clucking sounds. A second thorn missed, but it fell under the impact of a third.

A rumble rose up from Pelmen's stomach. Raising his eyes, he realized Astar was already halfway through his course. His gaze swept the monotonous extent of the steppe, but the carts were out of sight. Given the multiplicity of the changes of direction they had made, it would have been difficult to determine the direction in which they needed to go to find them.