A Knife in the Dark

Episode 5 - The World Stone

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Tasol pushed himself up from the table, placing his hand on Myra’s shoulder. “I’m sure they just scented the fire. Stay here and keep quiet. I’ll be back.” He leaned over, dousing the candles, plunging the room into darkness save for the smoldering light of the kitchen fire. Eerie shadows bounced off the walls of the cave as the firelight spit and crackled.

“No,” Myra whispered with a hardness in her tone. “I can fight too, just as good as you,” she added for good measure.

Tasol’s eyes lowered from hers. “Myra, you’ve been a housewife for years. We’re going to have to kill them,” he said, his eyes pleading with her to stay put, but an anger he knew well surfaced, and in the next instant a blade was at his throat. He looked into her eyes, measuring her resolve, and gently placed his hand on her wrist, lowering the blade.

“Ok, we go together. But this is my piece of the forest. I know it well. You follow my lead. Got it?” He looked into her eyes keenly awaiting a response, her brown eyes equally as fierce as his, and she nodded.

“Got it. I follow your lead.” She stepped in behind him as Tasol once again donned his hunting gear, stowing the daggers and sliding the machete into the sheath on his leg. Myra followed suit, pulling her hood over her head, her eyes peering out from the darkness, framed by her raven black hair. Reaching to the side of the door, Tasol took out a second machete, handing it to her, watching her spin it in her hand, testing its weight and balance. They would be silent and deadly, just as they’d been trained. Passing out of the entrance, Tasol reached up running his fingers across the surface of the carved wooden acorn, and Myra followed suit just as she’d done so many times before. Tasol glanced back at his sister seeing her move with a muted excitement, ready for whatever awaited them outside.

As they left the cave it was still dark, darker than earlier even as clouds had moved in, occluding whatever light had remained earlier. They stood in an almost complete darkness, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Tasol smiled as he patted his sister on the back.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she whispered back.

The darkness was a gift, and he could sense Myra knew it as well. Whoever was out there was at a great disadvantage. With their eyes adjusted, Tasol motioned for Myra to follow, and he stepped forward, softly, silently. After a few paces, he hadn’t heard Myra following, and he turned to find she was right on his heels. She nodded to him, and he could see her lips raise, cracking a smile. He’d forgotten how quietly she could move through the woods, and found himself grateful that she was with him. Making a mental note, he’d apologize for calling her a housewife, if they survived this night.

They moved silently, passing from shadow to shadow, pausing frequently as a light rain started to fall. Tasol turned his head upright, catching a few drops in his mouth, never one to pass the chance of free water. His attention snapped back to the darkness, to the crack of a branch on the path leading to his cave. Placing his arm across Myra’s chest, they held their position, and he motioned in the direction of the noise. She nodded, having heard the noise too, and as she nervously spun the machete in her hand. Tasol motioned for her to hold her position, and he turned, slinking through the woods along the side of the path, uncertain if there was only one hunter or if more had come this time. Sliding his machete from its sheath, his heart raced, and his breath shortened, both of which were unusual. Perhaps it was because Myra was with him. When he was alone, things were easier, less complicated. His mind was wandering, dangerously so, and his foot caught on a small branch making an oversized sound, crunching below his boot.

He paused, cursing himself, and crouching down into the underbrush, his eyes darting from side to side. Uncertain if he’d been heard, but hoping he’d not blown his cover. The rain was now coming down steadily, dripping from his hood onto his face. He studied the path, patiently waiting, but nothing came, and he heard no more sounds other the rain dropping to the ground from the branches above. Turning back, he looked toward Myra, but she was out of sight, almost certainly watching the path just as he was. Minutes passed and there were no more noises from the forest. Tasol started to wonder if an animal had set off the bell. That had happened in the past, but he’d tried to set the trip lines in a way that animals wouldn’t trigger them, even though it was difficult to do. A few more minutes passed, and Tasol tensed, hearing the crunching of leaves behind him. He turned quickly to see two black, beady eyes looking at him from beside a tree. Tasol’s quick movements startled it, and the deer turned, bounding up through the forest toward Myra. Dropping the machete to his side, he let out a sigh of relief and the tension drained from his body. They’d found what set off the bell, the hunt was over.

He stepped onto the path to collect Myra, heading back toward the comfort of his cave. Even though he welcomed the rain, it was still cold and had soaked through his clothes. He moved quietly up the path, and seeing Myra, he signaled to her that all was clear. She started to step out, but paused, her eyes widening as she reached for her belt, motioning for him with her free hand to take cover. It was a clear hand signal, one that their father had taught both of them. Reflexively, Tasol dropped to the ground, rolling over as he drew his daggers at the ready. Coming up the trail behind him was a lone shadow, hunched over, and closing on him quickly. Tasol braced, his muscles softening, anticipating the coming struggle as a whooshing sound flashed over his head, ending with a wet thud. The shadow staggered, falling backwards, the handle of a blade protruding from its skull. Tasol’s heart raced as he rolled up to his knees, feeling a hand on his shoulder, Myra’s hand.

“He came out of the shadows, behind you. That was clumsy,” she said.

“I’ll give you that,” he said, reluctant to admit it to her. He clasped his hand over hers, and he rose to his feet, “But, I’m glad you were here.”

“Looks like the old housewife did okay, huh?” she said with a chuckle.

He knew she was smirking at him as he smiled, patting her shoulder. “Ya, the old housewife did okay. About that–”

“No need bro. It has been a long time, but the things father taught us never fade. I’m still a Jasper.”

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