Бесплатный фрагмент - Dream hunters

Even though he was at a great distance, peering out from behind the many branches of the bush, Brian didn’t move and was barely breathing so as not to scare off his prey. Turning his head just an inch, he turned his gaze to where his younger brother Ryan was sitting, also lurking. The boy, like his older brother, was intently watching the pack that was carelessly grazing in the meadow. Turning his head the other way, Brian looked to his right, at Murphy. Unlike Ryan, he looked calm, only Murphy’s eyes betrayed concern and tension.

Ryan turned his head sharply and looked at his brother expectantly. Brian, unmoving, shifted his gaze to the meadow and slowly raised his hand up. The younger man was already at the ready to snap out of his seat at any moment. Murphy remained nonchalantly in place, keeping his gaze on his prey. Tension was rising. His heart seemed about to jump out of his chest, but at that very moment Brian gave the go-ahead.

Without a second’s hesitation, the brothers and their friend simultaneously leaped from their seats and lunged forward, their hands brushing aside the branches that were about to hit their eyes. A few steps and the boys were out of the shelter of the sunlit clearing. Though they were descending a steep slope, the young hunters were quick on their feet as if they were on the verge of taking flight. The boys ran beside each other and did not look under their feet or to the sides. They could only see their prey in front of them, though it was two hundred yards away. Given the distance, there was more than enough time to catch their prey. This was because their target was large and slow, but not easy to catch.

A small flock of blue whales, twenty to thirty yards long, hovered over the meadow, nibbling at the crowns of low trees. The five huge whales, not down to the ground, two yards away, spotted the uninvited guests rushing at them from the slope, and stopped munching. Some let out a grudging cry that echoed through the valley and started to leave the pasture, turning lazily with all their bodies.

The sight did not make the boys happy as they flew with the speed of the wind and had already skipped from the slope to the meadow. The charge prevented them from slowing down. The whales were leaving the meadow, slowly, with gliding motions of their fins cutting through the air as thick as water, so that the young hunters had a chance to catch one of the packs of big and blue. With every second the boys were getting closer to their target.

Three of the five whales turned around and prepared to swim away, while the remaining two looked back at a half-turn. Slicing through the intangible air with their fins, the whales left a trail of translucent streaks in the sky. Without slowing, Murphy, through the wind, called out to Brian, who was running beside him, and nodded toward the whales. He turned his attention immediately to the nearest one, which was leaving a bright trail.

Rushing across the meadow, past low trees that looked like overgrown bushes, the boys were already beneath the whales, who had now managed to fall backwards. Ryan stopped in front of a huge net spread out on the ground. The others, circling the net, watched the whale swim away. Standing at the base of the net, Ryan picked up his bow from the ground, put a harpoon-like arrow to it, from which a rope stretched. Drawing the bowstring at half-strength, he waited, looking at his comrades. The boys stopped abruptly, each picked up his bow from the ground and, drawing the same arrows that stretched to the net, looked at the younger man. Ryan drew his bow with force. The hunters looked at each other and, pointing their arrows upwards, simultaneously released the bowstring.

The harpoons flew swiftly into the sky, easily lifting the net spread on the ground. The net at the opposite end from Ryan was staked, so it could not fly away or change course. Lifting it off the ground, the arrows wrapped the net around the last whale to swim away. Once trapped, the huge animal began to wag its tail, gradually releasing itself from the trap. The arrows slammed hard into the ground, covering the whale’s torso and jerking it down. The hunters watched with open mouths, but Brian finally woke up and rushed out, bow in hand. He ran to a tree, grabbed the roll of rope under it, put the loop he’d prepared on the ground, hammered in a stake, and began to strap the rope to the arrow. Watching Brian’s actions, the others also regained control of themselves.

Without stopping to toss, the whale flapped its tail in the air and knocked out one of the arrows, easing the pressure of the net, giving it room to manoeuvre further. The eldest of the brothers looked on in horror at the beating whale in the net, pulled the bowstring in panic and, nervously, shot at the prey, which was trying to escape. The arrow descended and jabbed into the ground without hitting the fugitive. Doing exactly as Brian had done, Murphy began aiming without haste, trying to cope with his emotions. The moment the whale almost threw off its net, he fired, and the arrow struck the animal in the side without straying from its trajectory, hitting it squarely in the target.

The whale let out a heartbreaking scream that echoed through the valley, so that the boys felt a slight vibration in their bodies. The whale dropped the net and tried to swim away, but an arrow sticking out of it prevented it from doing so. There was another pitying shriek, the animal tried again, and it was successful. The whale made a jerk and the arrow fell out of its torso. It hurriedly tried to leave the confines of the meadow as far as its puncture wound would allow. The harpoon had not entered deep enough to restrain the huge and powerful creature that was the larger blue whale.

As it swam away, its prey left not only a translucent trail of fins and tail, but barely discernible drops of blood, they floated in the air, remaining thick and solid. Murphy picked up the arrow with the blood-stained tip and looked after the whale, trying to catch up with his pack. The whales had gone so far that they could now all be safely caught in a fist.

The young hunters looked after the whales in the autumn sunlight.

***

The boys gathered their weapons and equipment and packed them into a small wooden wagon. What didn’t fit, they carried. They were a team, doing everything together, but only the older boys carried the wagon. Brian didn’t want his younger brother to do it, as it wasn’t an easy job. He looked after Ryan, as his older brothers did, trying not to get him involved in hard physical work as much as possible.

Murphy did not like this approach very much. He understood his older brother, but did not think what he was doing was appropriate. His younger brother was much quicker, and would have to be replaced more often, but his older brother worked for two and was twice as tired, unable to regain his strength properly. Even though Brian hadn’t changed anything, they hadn’t moved faster, and his strength hadn’t increased, on the contrary, he was still relieved, though only mentally.

Ryan couldn’t stay away and, despite his brother’s objections, carried tools, a hammer or stakes to lighten the weight of the wagon. It was a lot easier than dragging the wagon itself. Murphy, however, did not appreciate the efforts of either of them, considering the effort a waste of time, and his concern for one another, which he considered -showing off -, did not impress him. He kept his opinions to himself, not wanting a quarrel, knowing that it was better for the children to give in and let them do as they pleased, as long as it didn’t interfere with the whale hunt.

Leaving the valley, leaving a trail of stakes and arrows in the meadow, the hunters approached the sparse forest, following the faint trail of whale fins. The trail would hang in the air for a couple of hours, then quietly fade away as if it had never been there. The boys were lucky to have one last shot at the animal, but the closer they approached the forest, the harder it became to distinguish the scarlet droplets of whale blood hovering in the air among the foliage.

Deeper into the forest, the young hunters rested in a small clearing. While the brothers settled down, Murphy went in search of a stream to replenish their water supply. The forest grew thicker with every step, and the sky was barely visible through the trees. After crossing a steep slope, Murphy reached the stream and filled the canteen. Before he left, he followed the stream and found that in the distance the forest was thinning and the ground rougher. As he surmised, this meant only one thing: there were mountains nearby.

Returning to his team, Murphy was just in time for the meal his brothers had just begun. The young man joined them, cracked a tortilla and began to talk about what he had found.

— I was by the water and guess what? It runs from the mountains, — he said cheerfully.

— What do you mean by that? — Brian asked.

— That we won’t lose the whale’s trail, which, by the way, is starting to blur, — Murphy answered excitedly.

— But the road is much better in the woods than in the mountains, — Ryan remarked.

Murphy was surprised that the question about the road came from his younger brother who had little to do with the carriage and was, therefore, the last person to complain. Suppressing his resentment, Murphy continued:

— I agree, Ryan. The ground here is much better and nicer, but the forest ahead is getting thicker, the wagon will pass between the trees, and the sky can only be seen with one’s head up. It didn’t look like the whales were passing through the forest, more likely they went around it, keeping close to the mountains where there’s more open space. Besides we can’t get our bearings in the foliage and it’s easy to lose track of the whales, and we might just get lost ourselves. So, what do you say?

Though Murphy was addressing both brothers, the question was addressed to Brian. He was the eldest, and therefore stronger, more experienced and better versed in some matters. Brian’s word always carried more weight, and more often than not it was the deciding one. He didn’t like the prospect of going up into the mountains, but it was a very smart decision, and even though the boy wanted to stay in the forest, he couldn’t make a valid argument for it.

— I think it’s a good idea. It would be difficult to walk, but at least we wouldn’t lose the pack, and that’s all that matters, — Brian said in the end.

The hunters finished their meal in silence, save for the distant calls of birds, the faint rustling of insects and the crunch of dry twigs made by small animals invisible to the eye.

They gathered their belongings, loaded them into the wagon and started on their journey, which was not going to be an easy one. Following the path that Murphy had taken in search of water, the hunters slowly but steadily began to climb up the slopes. This time no one rested and everyone had to work. Even if only one person was pulling the wagon, others were helping to overcome the obstacles on the slopes or the roots of trees protruding from the ground which the wheels occasionally clung to.

When they reached the stream where Murphy had filled the canteen, they decided to rest and regain their strength, but there was not much time for that — the day was short in autumn. The hunters kept moving forward as the sun was dipping below the horizon and darkness was setting in.

The boys managed to leave the forest before it was completely dark. Being in a small waste ground between the forest on the left side and a low rock wall on the right, the boys could see the road ahead because the moon had come out.

The ground underfoot became rougher, the grass less frequent and the stones appeared. Soon the road dropped away, and beyond the rocky wall there was a small passage that led up into the mountains, and there the cliffs were already visible. The carriage was shaking from side to side, though it was not easy to pull as it was.

At last the hunters decided to stop for the night and continue early in the morning. They were very tired, hungry, and the weather was changing. The temperature was dropping during the night and it was much colder in the mountains than in the forest. They found a flat place where there were not many stones. Walking through the forest, they had gathered firewood and now made a fire, though not at the first attempt.

Laying thick skins, wrapped in which they would sleep, the boys warmed themselves by the fire. As they were barely settled, they heard a sound that had disturbed them more than once that day. It was the sound of small stones rattling against each other. It was not easy to determine where it was coming from — the sound echoed from all directions in the area. It was clear that the rocks had crumbled and therefore the sound was coming from somewhere above.

Someone was coming down to the young hunters.

Without thinking, Murphy snatched an arrow from the wagon; it was an arrow with a drop of whale blood dried on the tip. Brian, unlike Murphy, was not so cold-blooded and acted hastily, but tried to hide his fear. He pulled out the first tool he could get his hands on that could be used as a weapon, it was a hammer. Ryan armed himself with a small knife, taking it out of its sheath tucked into his boot.

Everyone was extremely tense. The sound grew, heard closer and closer. In an instant the surrounding echo fell silent, and one could hear where the rustle was coming from. All at once the hunters turned to the sound.

The sound was coming from a man. From behind a large stone, in the shadows, a man with raised hands indicated that he had come with good intentions. In the darkness one could make out a silhouette, but one could not be sure whether it was a man or a woman.

— Who are you? — Brian asked in an extremely unfriendly manner that was unexpected to him. He spoke first, though he was just as frightened as the others.

— Show yourself! — Murphy said more calmly and composed. — Come out into the light! And no nonsense.

Without lowering his arms, the man slowly approached the boys. With each step the figure became clearer and clearer. He stepped into the light, but was at a safe enough distance and the boys could see his face.

He was a middle-aged man, dressed in good, appropriate clothing. Over his shirt he wore a leather waistcoat with pockets and clasps. Long leather gloves tightened tightly with straps. He wore various sized pouches securely fastened to his belt and a flask of what was probably water. A dagger sheathed in a sheath was also visible on his belt, and compared to that Ryan’s knife was no more than a toothpick. He wore coarse, large boots, and strapped boots, too. He carried a huge wicker bag over his shoulder.

In the dim light of the fire the man spoke:

— Guys, calm down. I didn’t mean to frighten you, much less hurt you…

— Tell tales! — Ryan interrupted the stranger, gripping the hilt of the knife in front of him tightly.

The man wanted to reply, but only smirked. Murphy, outwardly cool, was beginning to panic, realizing that the brothers were provoking the stranger.

— Calm down, — he commanded, but it was unclear to whom he was addressing, his own or the stranger. — Now. Who are you? You have not told us your name.

— I am Nigel, the hunter. — He nodded at the wagon beside it and continued: — So are you, I suppose.

— How do we know you’re telling the truth? — Brian couldn’t stand it, which Murphy wasn’t very happy about, since the brothers had given in to emotion rather than logic and common sense.

— You asked me who I was, I told you. Believe it or not, that’s up to you. I will not convince you otherwise. — After a short pause Nigel continued: — Well, now it’s your turn.

The young hunters, without lowering their weapons, looked at each other as if they were holding a silent meeting. The eldest one spoke:

— You are absolutely right, we are hunters like you, if you are indeed a hunter and tell the truth. — The man chuckled but suppressed a chuckle. — My name is Murphy…

— Murphy, you what! — Brian whispered, and Murphy gave him a stern, reproachful look.

— Well, — the young man continued, slightly embarrassed, -that’s Brian with his little brother Ryan next to him.

— So you are in charge? — Nigel asked.

— No, not at all! — Brian almost snapped back. — We are not in charge, we are equal and we make decisions together.

— I see, — said the hunter, staring at the ground for a moment, then abruptly raised his head and continued: — Now that we’ve met, shall I put my hands down now? My hands are beginning to stiffen.

— You may put them down, — Brian allowed with undisguised disbelief.

— May I have a little warmth by your fire?

— Give us your weapon first! — Murphy nodded. — And we have to tie your hands and feet. Just a precaution.

— Are you boys serious? — the stranger asked with a grin, slipping the dagger from his belt.

The boys were standing there with stony faces. The smile slowly slid down the hunter’s face.

***