Sins of the First

by Pick-Six

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure
Length: 4297

An event long thought impossible threatens the existence of the minotaur clans of Permafrost Tundra.

Although they have always been a threat to the creatures that call Permafrost Tundra home, the Songless have never been more than opportunistic raiders.

Something's changed, though.

They ride together, they fight side by side, and they are showing levels of cunning and intelligence long thought impossible. The winds of change are blowing in the Tundra, and the Songless have that wind at their back.

********
The second story set in the Permafrost Tundra, following the events of Shine Down on Me.

Though reading the first story isn't required, it is recommended.

Written for the World Building Alliance's May Contest.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-30 13:10:02 UTC

Chapter One

Of all the myriad dangers that we face upon the Permafrost Tundra, none evoke more hatred and sorrow in the hearts of my kin than the Songless. Where once they were our brothers, now they are merely shells, consumed utterly by the dark urges that every minotaur must struggle against. If there is one positive to the Songless’ bestial nature, it is that it prevents them from working together. Still, every minotaur that calls the Tundra home loathes the Songless; for they are what we fear to become, and what we will become, should we relax our vigil for but a moment.  - Wilhelm Proudhoof, Founder of Clan Rime

“There he is!”

The young hunter gazed down over the tundra from his vantage point, the sun silhouetting him as it made its ascent into the summer sky. In his excitement, the minotaur jumped up and began readying his weapon. Only a clout to the top of his head prevented him from scaring the bull away.

“Damn it, Bolton, are you trying to give our position away?” Terah’s normally melodic voice carried a harsh edge to it, letting her companion know that any blame for failure would rest squarely on his shoulders.

Bolton rubbed his head and glanced at the female minotaur, abashed. “Sorry, Terah. I’m just excited. We are so close!” The apologetic look on his face melted into a goofy grin at the thought of them being inducted into the Hunter’s Circle.

The huntress-in-training snorted irritably. “Be that as it may, my love, adults do not hop around as if their hooves are on fire.” She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, focusing on their quarry. “Distance?”

The male minotaur blanched at the gentle rebuke, and turned to face the edge of the plateau, looking down upon the caribou. “Roughly a stone’s throw from us, but remember that we are downwind.” Bolton held his hand up to gauge the speed of the wind, careful to keep it hidden from their prey.  “Aim slightly to the left of the bull. The wind is picking up."

Terah gave an affirmative grunt. As big an idiot as he can be, he is skilled in spotting, at least.  She pulled the Palewood bow from her back, nocking an arrow as she went. The hunters were positioned broadside of the bull, allowing her to line up her shot exactly as their cadre had been taught. Behind the shoulders, at an angle. Carry it through the heart and lungs. The lessons from her teachers echoed through her mind as her vision began to tunnel. Codrus, guide my shot, and let my prey suffer no more than it must.

The bowstring cut through the air next to Terah’s face as she released the arrow, sending a stinging vibrato across her cheek. Though slowed somewhat by the wind, Terah’s aim proved to be true. The arrow pierced the side of the caribou cleanly, forcing a strangled bleat from it. The bull attempted to dash away from the pain that now lanced through him, but fell to the ground after a few stuttering steps, its lifeblood draining quickly.

The hunters made their way carefully down the soft slope, hooves crunching lightly in the melting snow. Bolton was the first to reach the animal, hopping expertly atop the soft ground beneath him. After checking the bull, he looked up to smile at the approaching huntress. “He’s gone. Nice shot.”

Terah nodded in acknowledgement of the complement, and knelt down next to the carcass. Silently, she asked for forgiveness from the animal’s spirit, and assured it that its body would not go to waste. Her prayer was interrupted, however, by a gasp at her side.

Turning to glare at her companion, she noticed that he was staring off to the north. Following his shocked gaze, her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of what he was seeing.

“Smoke. Aurora is on fire.”

The simple statement from Bolton jarred Terah from her stupor. Despite the relative warmth of the season, she felt her blood run cold. “We must hurry home.”

********

The robed figure looked on with disdain as two minotaurs hauled the body of a third out of the village, throwing the corpse on a growing pile. He cared little for his servants; the Songless were merely a weapon to wield against those who would silence his gospel. A blunt, monosyllabic weapon, he thought wryly. Still, they have their uses.

His musing was interrupted by the sound of crying coming from a nearby hut, followed by an angry shout. He picked up the pace as he heard the crying cut off abruptly. The door to the hut swung open and cracked against the wall, startling the minotaur inside. The robed minotaur entered the home and saw one of his servants, a Songless with a jagged scar running down his chest, standing over the broken, still form of a calf. The Songless stared at the newest occupant of the hut, visibly shaken. “Nevi’im! N-need help?”

The Nevi’im’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and his tone was low and ominous. “What have you done?”

The Songless’s eyes darted quickly from his master to the calf at his hooves. He shrugged several times as he attempted to explain himself. “Wouldn’t stop crying...”

An unwelcome memory surfaced in the Nevi’im’s mind; a spark of what had been.

Is it my fault, father?

He quashed it quickly, his anger at the Songless renewed. “What are you called?”

The scarred minotaur gaped at the Nevi'im for a moment, taken aback by the question. “Was ‘Thrymm’ long time back. Is now too, I guess.”

The Nevi’im shifted his gaze to the floor next to the Songless. “And the child?”

Thrymm stared stupidly at his master. “Huh?”

His patience waning quickly, the robed minotaur moved quickly toward his servant, stopping mere inches from him. “What was the child’s name?”

The Songless took a step back, his voice rising in fear. “D-dunno! No name! Dunno!”

“A minotaur with no name is forlorn after death,” the Nevi’im stated flatly, slowly unsheathing the dagger at his hip. “This child will pass on to the Next bearing the name ‘Thrymm,’ that our Lady hears his whispers and accepts him into her embrace.”

A look of abject confusion crossed the face of the Songless. “My name?”

The confusion did not have a chance to leave the scarred minotaur’s face before the Nevi’im plunged the blade deep into his chest. The robed minotaur watched with cold satisfaction as the Songless slumped to the ground, dead. “You no longer have a name.”

The Nevi’im exited the hut swiftly, his head swimming. It was never your fault, my girl.  Amidst the smoke, he spotted one of his lieutenants barking orders at a gathering of Songless. As they dispersed, he moved to speak to the Songless commander.

“Gather the survivors, it is time they learn the truth.”

The lieutenant stood rigidly and nodded. Before he could turn to carry out his master’s orders, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

The voice of the Nevi’im was like ice. “If they attack, you have permission to defend yourself. However, if I find one dead calf, I will make you beg for death.”

The Songless broke into a cold sweat at his master’s promise. “Your will be done.”

********

Though fear lent speed to their stride, the sun had begun to dip behind the mountains in the distance by the time the hunters reached the outskirts of Aurora. Bolton slowed to a stop, staring in mute horror at the scene before him. “Oh, Creator, no...” The bodies of his clan were strewn haphazardly on the ground outside the holdfast, given no more respect than the leavings of a wild animal. The young hunter’s hands fell to his sides as he looked over the remains of his family and friends. This cannot be real. Codrus, let it not be real.

He heard hoofsteps behind him and whirled, overwhelmed by a need to strike out at those that had destroyed all he had ever known. He recognized Terah only as his fist collided with the side of her face. She let out a grunt of surprise and fell to one knee, clutching her wounded eye. “What in the lightless Void is wrong with you, Bolton?” She rasped through her teeth.

The young hunter knelt alongside his mate, apologizing profusely. “I-I am so sorry, Terah. I just, I thought that you were...” Bolton hiccuped, opting to merely point toward the pile of bodies.

The anger on Terah’s face drained visibly, replaced by a look of silent grief. “Oh...”

They knelt there for what felt like an eternity, trying to come to terms with the destruction of all that they had ever known. It was Bolton who first broke the silence. “Wh-what do we do?”

Terah stood, her face an emotionless mask. Her voice, however, was laced with dark fury. “We enter our home, and we kill them. All of them.”

“What?” Bolton asked shrilly. “We can’t fight them all by ourselves! We need to find help!”

The young huntress stared at her mate in disbelief. “You are a coward,” she stated plainly.

Bolton stood and faced Terah squarely. “I cannot believe you would say that! What you are suggesting is suicide.” He took a step back as the huntress drew her stone axe. “Please, love,” he begged, “We cannot win by ourselves.”

Terah’s disgust was apparent in her expression. “No mate of mine would refuse to avenge our clan.”

The young minotaur snorted angrily, his wounded pride getting the better of him. “A true minotaur does not launch head-first into an enemy camp. You are supposed to be the cautious one, Ter--”

The word ended in a strangled gargle as an arrow flew into Bolton’s throat.

Terah threw herself to the side, coming up to face the direction of their attackers. Six Songless whooped and roared in the distance, already succumbing to their bloodlust. A strained gasp brought her attention back to her downed mate.

Bolton lay there, struggling to breathe. bubbles of air expanded and contracted around the arrow lodged in his throat. Still, he tried to speak. “Rghn.”

Terah shook her head, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I cannot leave you. I--I  can’t.” The young huntress sniffed as Bolton clasped her hand weakly in his.

“Lrvv ... Pls rghn.”

With the last of his strength, Bolton shoved his mate away. His hand hit the ground, landing softly in the crimson slush that had formed amidst the snow.

Terah moved to hold him, but stopped short as an arrow  buried itself in her shoulder.  Grunting more in surprise than pain, she turned to see the Songless archer nocking another missile. The other five brandished weapons of crude stone and obsidian and charged, eyes wild and bloodshot.

Bolton was right; If I stay, then I die.

She glanced back at her mate mournfully. Forgive me, my love.

With that, she stood swiftly from her resting spot, keeping her head low as she dashed along the soft snow away from the devastation of her home and clan. She dared to glance over her shoulder after a moment, slowing unconsciously as she watched the Songless bear down upon Bolton. A voice as dark and seductive as sin rose up inside of her.

Run back. Kill them. Tear them.

For a moment, she considered giving in to the whispers, but the wind began to blow at her back, lending her its speed and strength. In the wind, she heard notes of music that seemed to resonate inside her. Our land is an instrument, Bolton had once told her. And the wind is the Creator’s breath, letting us know we are alive.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Terah ran southward, away from her home. Away from the pain.

********

The waiting. Will couldn’t stand the waiting. Though he knew Khadra was more than capable of defending herself, fear always tugged at his gut when she led her hunters out of the village.

The calf sat still and silent on the stone steps of the Hunter’s Hall, as he did every day she was gone, clasping his father’s bracelet with a thumb and forefinger and rubbing it absently. His fear was his shame, and he would not give voice to it. He opted instead to silently pray to Codrus. Please keep Khadi safe. please bring her home to me.

The sound of a horn snapped Will from his entreaties. He hopped up and began running to the entrance of the village, excitement and anxiety coursing through his veins. His anxiety turned to joy and relief as he spotted his sister leading her hunters into town.

Slowing to a stop, he shifted his expression into one of demure happiness. He knew that too much joy would make him seem immature, especially in the eyes of the other hunters. Many of the other calves had taken to calling him “Milk-Tooth” because of his attachment to Khadra, much to his embarrassment.

Still, Will couldn't help but grin as the group entered the village. He took a few steps toward them, bowing his head. “I am happy to see you are well, Dame Prou--” The calf stopped talking as Khadra brushed right past him,.

“Not now, Will,” she stated briskly as she and her hunters hurried toward the Hall.

Confused and hurt, Will stumbled on his words as he called out to her. “W--what’s wrong?” It was then that he noticed that one of the hunters was being carried by two others. He didn’t recognize her, but the arrow protruding from her shoulder told him all he needed to know. He dashed off to find the elder and tell her what he had seen.

********

The screams of the wounded minotaur echoed off of the stone walls of the Hunter’s Hall. She lay on a massive table, pinned by four hunters as Khadra worked the arrow in her shoulder. Khadra winced at the young huntress’s pain, but continued her ministrations. “We are almost through, Terah. One more push should pierce through the skin.”

Terah nodded her understanding, breathing heavily around the wooden bit clenched between her teeth. Khadra nodded back, and gave one more push. The minotaur on the table arched her back and let loose another scream as the arrow came through the other side of her shoulder. Pulling it quickly, Khadra motioned for the hunter behind her to come forward. “Quickly, Brask, bring the steel! Seal the wound on both sides!”

Brask stepped forward with a metal rod, each end glowing orange from the heat of the great fireplace. Moving fluidly, he brought one end into the wound on Terah’s back.  The smell of burning flesh and copper filled their noses as the sound of Terah’s fists beating against the table filled their ears. Brask pulled the rod from the wound, flipping it and bringing the other end into the hole on the other side of Terah’s shoulder.

Khadra winced again, looking over to one of the hunters holding Terah down. “Get her a drink. A strong drink.”

The hunter nodded and made his way to the pantry. Khadra looked back to the wounded minotaur, whose face was lathered in sweat. With a nod from Dame Proudhoof, the hunters relinquished their grip on Terah. Breathing heavily, Terah brought one leaden arm to her face, pulling the bit from her mouth. “That... was painful.”

“Do not speak yet, child. Save your strength.” The occupants of the hall turned toward the new speaker. The Elder stood at the entrance, wrapped in her furs and holding a vial of murky liquid. The hunters bowed their heads as one.

As the elder made her way to the table, Terah spoke again. “I am sorry that I am not able to show you due respect, Greatmother, but I come with a warning.” A finger placed on her lip silenced the wounded minotaur.

Elder Proudhoof smiled gently. “In a moment, child. First, we must dress this wound.” pulling a cloth from her furs, the Elder dabbed it in the vial that she was carrying. She pressed it gently to each side of the wound for a moment, evoking a small, pained moan from Terah. “That should stave off infection.” The Elder looked up at Khadra as she wove the cloth around the wound. “Has she had something to-- ah, here it is.”

The hunter that Khadra had sent off  for a drink had returned, holding a large flagon of  dark liquid. “Thunderbrew. It will take the edge off.”

Khadra and the Elder helped the wounded minotaur sit up gingerly. Terah took the offered drink with a nod of thanks, and tipped it back, draining it quickly. Small trickles of Thunderbrew spilled from the corners of her mouth.

Terah finished her drink with a sigh. “Thank you. I am feeling better already.”  Her contented expression quickly fell into a frown. “I am here to warn you, though. Permafrost Tundra is in danger. A large force in the North threatens us all.”

The Elder’s lips thinned at the wounded minotaur’s words. “What is it?”

Terah’s words caught in her throat as she recalled the end of her clan. “The Songless... They fell upon us. Aurora is... Aurora is gone.” She hung her head morosely as she finished speaking.

Khadra’s eyes widened as she absorbed what she was hearing. “Gone? but, Aurora is...”

The Elder spoke with steel in her voice as she regarded the minotaurs around her. “Gather the clan. We have much to discuss.” As the minotaurs hurried to gather the clan, the Elder frowned, feeling her age for the first time. I had hoped that this day would never come.

********

For the second time in as many years, Will found himself in the Hunter’s Hall. Though the first had been a bittersweet experience for him, he found himself feeling far more apprehensive this time. A majority of his clan, grown minotaurs that he respected and trusted, milled about in confusion and fear. The din soon died as the Elder raised her hand and motioned for silence.

“Thank you for coming, my clan. It is not often that we gather together like this. In better times, it would be a celebration. However, today we are here to discuss our future as a race.”

Will shifted nervously from hoof to hoof as the implications of his grandmother’s words hit him. The voices of his clan were hushed as they speculated amongst themselves.

The elder raised her hand again. “Please, allow me to explain.” She took a deep breath, releasing it as she prepared herself for what she had to say next. “The holdfast of Aurora has been wiped out.”

Will felt a chill run down his spine. Wiped out? He was largely unfamiliar with Aurora, but he knew that it was much larger than Rime. His sentiment was echoed in the voices of the minotaurs around him.

“Elder, what do you mean by ‘wiped out’?”

“That... That cannot be.”

“Was it the dragon cabal? I thought we were at peace with them!”

The wizened minotaur rapped her staff on the stone table next to her. Though she did so lightly, it was enough to quiet the unrest, at least for the moment.

“It was not the dragons. It was the Songless. They marched in force upon Aurora, and destroyed it.”

Minotaurs gasped audibly and clenched their fists at the mention of the Songless. Will felt a cold pit grow in his stomach. He looked to his sister, standing off to the side of the Elder with the wounded huntress he had seen earlier. The huntress stared at the floor before her, while Khadra stood tall, jaw clenched and eyes blazing.

A hunter that Will recognized from his father’s wake stepped forward. “The Songless march together? Impossible. They have never done so before, why should they now?” Several minotaurs in the crowd nodded, wondering the same thing.

The Elder pursed her lips. “We do not know. What we do know is that they have shown no indication of stopping at Aurora. We must prepare.”

The vocal minotaur snorted. “Our source for this is a wounded youngling. How do we know that this was not a fever-dream brought on by too many days without food or drink?”

Even at his distance, Will felt the anger radiating from the young huntress to the side. “I saw the bodies of my kin tossed on the ground unceremoniously. I held my mate’s hand as he lay dying from an arrow in his throat. I am the last of Clan Aurora, and I am trying to prevent your clan from suffering the same fate.” Her voice was little more than a growl as she finished speaking. Khadra placed a hand on her unbandaged shoulder, visibly calming the wounded minotaur.

The hunter stepped back into the crowd, shaken. Will shuddered, not wanting to imagine his whole clan gone.

The Elder spoke once again. “It has always been one of my deepest fears that the Songless would find solidarity. It has come to pass, and now, we must think on the future of not just our clan, but our race as a whole.” She gazed across the crowd before her. “Now is not the time to fight. As we stand, we are too few in number. The Songless are north of us. I believe that our greatest option at the moment is to head south, to Aerie. From there, we send out scouts and messengers, so that we may consolidate our clans to stand together against the Songless.” Arguments erupted among the congregation at the thought of leaving Rime.

“Leave our homes to grovel before the gryphons? Never!”

“It is not safe here!”

“We must fight now!”

Will stood mutely, as shocked by the news as everyone around him. Rime was all he had ever known. To leave it behind...

“Elder!” Will’s voice cracked as he shouted, causing him to flush in embarrassment. The tumult around him died down as minotaurs moved to let him pass to the front. Will hunched his shoulders as he walked, uncomfortable with the attention being paid to him. He looked to his sister as he stepped away from the crowd. Her face was unreadable, as he expected it to be. The Elder smiled half heartedly as she spoke.

“Yes child, what is it?”

Will cleared his throat, steeling himself to ask what was on his mind. “If we go to the gryphons, will they help us fight?”

Will’s grandmother shook her head. “I do not know, young one. We will not know until we get there.”

The calf rubbed his father’s bracelet, drawing strength from its presence. “But if we stay, the Songless will overrun us, right?”

The elder nodded. “In all likelihood, they will. Aurora was a community of over seven hundred minotaurs and bore thick stone walls, whereas we are merely one hundred in number here, with no walls to protect us.”

Will stood straighter, gaining confidence. “I have heard stories of times past, when gryphons and minotaurs pledged their aid to one another. That should still hold true today.” He looked at the bracelet clasped on his belt, then back to the Elder. “We should go.”

The reaction from the crowd was less than pleasant. While many seemed to be in agreement, those who disagreed were far more vocal. The over-loud hunter from before stepped back out of the crowd to loom over Will.

“You take the word of a child over that of your hunters?” He stomped a hoof, nearly knocking the calf over. “We must fight! I will not abandon my home to crawl begging to those feathered--”

“Enough!”

Will turned toward his grandmother, visibly cowed by the strength of her voice. She was angrier than he had ever seen her. “Our clan is our home! I will not see it destroyed by an impertinent brat who places more value on his possessions than his family!”

All were shocked into silence by the Elder’s outburst. Elder Proudhoof took a moment to compose herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was calm. “It fills me with sorrow that we must leave our ancestral home. Since its founding generations ago, not once have we abandoned Rime.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, that day is come, and I must be the one to bear that burden of shame.” She looked to her clan, who were listening raptly to her words.. “If we stay, we will perish. We will lose not only our homes, but our sons and daughters. We will lose our future.”

Will watched as his kin slowly nodded and murmured their assent.. The large minotaur next to him knelt in deference to his leader. “Forgive me, Elder. I allowed emotion to cloud my judgement. I failed to see that our children must be our highest priority.”

The Elder nodded sadly. “You are forgiven, child. You are not the only one who holds sorrow in your heart.” She held her staff in front of her like a gavel. “Make your preparations swiftly, children.  We leave for Aerie at dawn.” She brought down her staff one final time upon the table.

********

Khadra watched with a heavy heart as the clan shuffled out of the Hall to begin making their preparations. She felt some pride as she looked upon her little brother, already so charismatic, and getting more so with each passing day. That pride was tempered, however, as she thought to his future. He has never been more than half a day away from the village, and now he must say goodbye to the only home he’s ever known. The daughter of Stahvros Proudhoof bit her lip, genuinely worried.

What do we do if we cannot come back?