Read Online Paragaea by Chris Roberson - Free Book Online

kilograms of the marbled meat, wrapped it in broad leaves, and stowed it in his pack. They were able to break their fast, though, with fresh strips of sloth meat, grilled over their cook-fire until the juices flowed. The resulting flavor was strange and somewhat rangy on Leena's tongue, but no less a welcome diversion from the meaner fare of the past days, for all of that.
    In the daylight, they were able better to see the extent of Hieronymus's wounds, and having finished with the morning meal, Balam set about cleaning and dressing the gashes dug into his companion's chest.
    Sitting by the cooling embers of the cook-fire, Leena saw that this was hardly the first injury, or even the hundredth, that Hieronymus had suffered. His back was a crisscrossed nest of scar tissue, lines and curves of scars spelled out strange sigils on his chest and arms, and on his lower abdomen was what appeared to be the remaining marks of a gunshot or puncture wound. She'd seen the faint white scar that ran in a line from his right eye, across his temple to his left ear, but had entertained no notions that that was just the figurative tip of an iceberg of ancient wounds.
    The tracks of time, though, had left other traces on his flesh. On his left bicep was a spiraling black tattoo, similar to that Leena had seen in photographs of South Pacific islanders.
    â€œThere's another one,” Hieronymus said, startling her. He'd seen her gaze lingering on his tattoo, and was smiling slightly. His smile faded to a wince at Balam's less-than-gentle ministrations, but his eyes still twinkled. “The other indicates my status as Family in the nation of Drift. But I'm afraid I'm not quite comfortable enough in your presence yet to show you that one.”
    â€œTrust me, woman,” Balam snarled, not looking up from his labors. “You don't want to know where he's got it hidden.”

    They struck camp and set out, continuing along in their roughly northern direction for all the daylight hours, their every attention on the path ahead.
    By nightfall, through the breaks in the tree line, they could see the sky glowing dimly red to the north and east of their position, the lights of some large city. Hieronymus smiled, and pointed ahead.
    â€œLaxaria.”

    The next morning, after a simple breakfast and a few short hours' trek through the final stretches of jungle, they reached the main road. It was hard-packed dirt, and ran from east to west.
    They continued on to the east, following the main road, and near midday came upon a company of half-sized humans driving aurochs along before them. The small beings, with arms reaching down to their knees and wide mouths across their small heads, wielded S-shaped boomerangs, and bristled at the trio's approach.
    Hieronymus approached the small beings with his hands heldpalm forward before him, and said, “Ebvul das letdak.” He paused, and then added, “Mat odat Sakrian?”
    One of the diminutive creatures stepped forward. Standing just over a meter high, he was the tallest of them, and seemed to be the leader. He shook his head, and in halting syllables answered, “Elum odat Sakria.”
    â€œDakuta,” Hieronymus said, smiling beneficently. “Elar ata uk etvam. Erre kad mat, at Laxaria.”
    The little creature turned and exchanged a few words with his fellows in a language of long vowels and halting consonants. At length, he turned back to Hieronymus and nodded.
    â€œDakuta. Uk etvam. Erre.”
    The small creatures, waving their long arms to drive their aurochs ahead of them, moved to one side of the road, giving the trio a wide berth as Leena and Balam followed Hieronymus down the road and past them.
    When they had gone a few hundred meters, safely out of earshot of the small creatures, to say nothing of the range of their S-shaped boomerangs, Leena grabbed Hieronymus's elbow.
    â€œWhat those short men?” she asked.
    â€œThere are many races of men on