Chapter 12-1

Chapter 12: Spirit

Almonihah made his way south at a very brisk pace. No point hanging around where Galindakherithan might reconsider and decide there was some joke in Trollish he had to hear or something. The faster he was out of her territory, the better. The Ranger made a mental note to keep an eye out for other dragons' territorial markings in the future, though dragons were rather notorious for marking their territory in ways that could only be detected from the air. If they marked their territory at all.

He could tell that summer was in full swing in the North Forest. Which meant he'd been stuck in that cave for over a year. The realization didn't make him particularly happy.

It did feel good to be free again, though. Perhaps not good enough to make him forget the bitterness of captivity, but definitely good. Almonihah spent a couple of days just enjoying being able to go wherever he pleased, though his first brush with a manticore reminded him that just because he was free didn't mean he was free from danger. Fortunately, the only spike that hit him just barely drew blood. His arrow, however, drew considerably more blood from the manticore.

He neared the edge of the North Forest rather quickly, despite the fact that he slowed down quite a bit once he felt he was far enough away from the copper dragon's territory. Almonihah wasn't quite sure how he knew he was nearing the forest's edge—he just knew. Maybe it was just long familiarity with the forest or something.

It was then that he heard voices approaching from the south. The Ranger froze, brushing aside his idle speculations, and listened with his keen ears. There were two different voices, and they spoke for only a little while before they were silent again. Whoever they were, they were trying to move quietly, though they were doing a mediocre job of it. Almonihah did a much better job at sneaking towards them.

He soon caught sight of the pair. They were two human males, both with bows, arrows, and spears. They looked to be Plainsmen—their manner of dress and their heavily-tanned skin both indicated as much. That would explain their difficulty with traveling quietly through the forest, as Plainsmen usually lived... on the plains.

They were also walking straight towards a pit plant.

Quickly, Almonihah moved to a concealed position on the opposite side of the carnivorous plant and called out, “Stop.”

The two Plainsmen froze, looking around them cautiously for the source of the voice. As one of them opened his mouth to speak, Almonihah fired an arrow. It hit what looked to be a pile of leaves a few paces in front of them with a wet-sounding “thunk”. As it did, the “leaf pile” twitched, revealing for a moment a circular pattern of wedges... as well as giving a glimpse of the hole lined with acidic secretions that lay beneath.

One of the Plainsmen gasped a little as he realized how close to danger they had been. After a moment, he recovered from his astonishment and called out, “I thank you, stranger.”

He paused for a moment, and as he did, Almonihah stepped out of his hiding-place into plain view. Both of the Plainsmen gasped in astonishment and fell to their knees when they saw the half-dragon. The one who had spoken earlier then said, his voice trembling a little, “Great spirit, forgive us for not having given you proper respect earlier...”

“Stop that.” Disgust was plain in Almonihah's voice. “I'm no spirit. 'nd get up. That's ridiculous.” He gestured at their kneeling forms.

Hurriedly, the two rose to their feet. “Forgive us, spirit...”

“I told you I'm not a spirit,” Almonihah growled, making sure to speak clearly so they understood. He didn't think his Common had gotten that sloppy during his time with Galindakherithan, but it seemed like they hadn't understood him the first time.

“Yes, g...” the Plainsman floundered for a bit, then continued, “Uh... what would you have us call you?”

“By my name,” Almonihah replied, having to suppress the urge to make his disdain clearer. Then he realized he hadn't told them his name. “I'm Almonihah.”

There was silence for a moment. It seemed like the two Plainsmen were expecting him to say something more. Then it occurred to the half-dragon that humans usually had a last name. On a whim, he said, “Almonihah Zrathanzon.” That felt... right somehow.

“Almonihah Zrathanzon...” the Plainsman who had been quiet before said, carefully trying to pronounce the name like the half-dragon had.

Almonihah nodded in acknowledgement.

“Almonihah Zrathanzon,” the Plainsman tried out the name again, a bit more confidently, “We owe you blood-debt. Please, come to our camp and accept of our hospitality in token of our acknowledgement of our debt.”

It sounded to Almonihah like he was repeating something he'd memorized. But their camp was almost certainly to the south, and it would be kind of nice to get some respect after being pushed around by a dragon for a year. So he agreed. If this was what Zrathanzon had meant about Plainsmen having 'strange ideas' about half-dragons, he didn't mind them too much.

He did quickly get tired of the superstitious awe that both of them treated him with, and with how the one who had spoken first always had to keep himself from calling the half-dragon 'spirit'. He did get the other one to the point where he would actually call him just Almonihah, instead of Almonihah Zrathanzon, but it took almost the entire walk back to their camp. The other one... well, he was a lost cause.

Almonihah could see their camp as soon as they came to the edge of the forest. It was a little ways off, but it looked like it consisted of a small cluster of conical tents. He'd seen such camps from a distance before, and Zrathanzon had told him that they were long-term hunting camps. Apparently, during the spring and summer, the hunters of a tribe of Plainsmen would take these tents and spread out from their home village for a month or two at a time to bring down game to salt and bring back to their village. The preserved meat would help keep them fed through the winter.

One of the pair ran ahead a bit to tell the camp of their visitor. Most of the hunters were still out pursuing game, but the few that were in camp, along with those of their wives and children who had come with them, all came out to greet their visitor. If anything, they were worse about the whole superstitious awe thing than Almonihah's two guides. Some of them seemed quite terrified when he corrected them about calling him “great spirit” or “thunder spirit”, and it took the half-dragon a considerable amount of time and energy convincing them that he wasn't really angry at them for calling him something he didn't want to be called. He also got the impression that they still thought he was some sort of supernatural spirit creature. It was all very annoying.

He had just about decided that he'd had enough “great thunder spirit”'s when a small group of Plainsmen made their way from the other side of camp to the gathering around the Ranger. Their leader wore a necklace of claws and teeth from various dangerous creatures, which Almonihah took to be proof of his hunting prowess. The Ranger noted idly that he had killed all of the creatures whose claws and fangs adorned the Plainsman's necklace himself.

As soon as this Plainsman caught sight of the half-dragon, his face paled, and he fell to his knees. “Thunder spirit,” he began his voice trembling.

“I'm not some thunder spirit!” Almonihah interrupted, angrily. He wasn't about to let this guy start on the whole “great spirit” routine.

The Plainsman seemed nonplussed by this response. After a moment, he recovered enough to ask, “What are you, then?”

“'m what happens when a bronze dragon spends too much time 'n human form with a beautiful human sorceress,” Almonihah snapped, his frustration coming out in the bitterness of his response.

The Plainsman stared blankly at Almonihah. After a moment, Almonihah growled in frustration and elaborated.

“I'm a half-dragon. Half-bronze dragon, half-human.”

The Plainsman's stare didn't become any less blank. After a moment of silence, however, he apparently decided to simply drop the issue and asked, “How should I call you?”

“Almonihah Zrathanzon. But just call me Almonihah.”

The Plainsman seemed to be getting more used to the idea of his strange visitor. “Almonihah,” he tried the name out, doing a better job at it than most of the others had, “What brings you to our humble hunting camp?”

The Ranger simply nodded at one of the two hunters he had saved. The indicated hunter explained about what had happened, and the Plainsman with the necklace nodded.

“I see. It was right to bring him back here. You, and the tribe, owe him a debt.” The Plainsman with the necklace, who the other Plainsman had referred to as “Hunt-Chief”, turned back to Almonihah. “We are grateful for the lives of the two hunters that you have saved. You honor our camp. However, I fear that this humble camp cannot offer you much to repay our debt.”

“In three suns, we will strike camp and return to our village. There, we can thank you properly. There, our Chief and Shaman, who are much wiser than I, dwell. There, perhaps, we can begin to repay our debt to you.”

There was silence. All of the Plainsmen were looking expectantly at Almonihah. It made him feel just a bit uncomfortable.

Irritably, not quite wanting to agree to anything yet, the half-dragon asked, “Which way is it?”

The Hunt-Chief, accustomed by now to his unexpected guest asking unexpected questions, replied, “It is to the south and east, maybe four suns' distance from here.”

Almonihah shrugged. “Might 's well. Same way I was going anyways.”

************

So, Almonihah's finally free of Galindakherithan! And now he runs into the Plainsmen. This is an interesting part of his life. I must admit, though, that I know just about nothing about what life in a society like this would actually be like, so there will no doubt be... inaccuracies.

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