A Blip from the Archive

The storm did not stop until early dawn but at the first hint of morning, the thunder ceased. The canyon glowed under the rosy sunrise, the last trickles of rainwater washing toward their underground havens. As sunlight crept to mouth of the tiny cave, Ethan forced himself up and out into the crisp air. He scanned the sky above, as the cloud covering receded, and along the cliffs surrounding him. As suspected there was enough mud to build a home with, and walking through it would be tedious.

A frantic scratching caught his attention, coming from a higher ledge on the opposite side of the cliff wall. Pulling the float grapple from his belt, he shot it with precision until it latched onto the helpless target. The metal talons retrieved the lifeless body of a gray hare, its unfortunate predicament beneficial to Ethan’s growling stomach. A bird would have claimed it sooner or later.

Ethan remembered hunting with his father near the shoreline of the Elpis Sea. It was the first time he had ever drawn blood with his own hands. He had been tracking a herd of groek all morning, and through most of the night, when coming to a summit that overlooked the ocean, he saw them, Sailors, trimming the fat off a dead whale. The animal’s cold body lay like a gaping wound, pitifully resigned under the misty sunrise.

His father told him to stay hidden atop the ridge but there were ten, armed seamen and soon he was stumbling down the rocky cliff-side despite his father’s firm protests. He drew his bow back, sending an arrow into the surprised group. One of the Sailors fell to the sand as Ethan prepared another arrow, steadying his hands and sight, adrenaline pumping through him.

His father was already in their midst, parrying two blades with a single dagger, moving around to the sea to protect his back. Whale hunts were forbidden. Out there they could get away with it, but trespassing on Epoxan shores, bringing their catch inland was doubly foolish. But as he adjusted his aim, Ethan could not help pitying those who fell one by one under the guardian’s commandeered sword. They never stood a chance. He let his bow drop, watching the frightened men as life left them.

“Finish what you started,” his father called, leaning over a huddled, sobbing man. “He’ll bleed to death.”

What Ethan had not known was that several miles down shore an ambush was waiting for them. Somehow the rest of the crew had known and it did not take long for them to exact their revenge. Even a great warrior had little chance against thirty men with fishing spears.