Jotus of Aanthora



  Jotus of Aanthora

  By

  Jonathon Wright

  Copyright © 2015 by Jonathon Wright

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – On The Trail

  Chapter Two – In The Guise Of A Warrior

  Chapter Three – An Officer’s Meeting

  Chapter Four – Garthora’s Finest

  Chapter Five – A New Beginning

  Chapter One – On The Trail

  Jotus trudged forward through the jungle with but one thing on his mind, finding his son, Jotan. The last he had heard, his son was being kept under close watch by the ambitious Amentus, ruler of Aanthora and High Chieftain of the Emerald clan. Now, after forcing the information from Amentus’ confidant, Lucran, Jotus knew that Amentus was on the move, amassing a grand army of the people in order to eradicate the Dotaran species.

  Jotus had been with others before. His group had consisted of a Dotaran named Demtrius, a Human named Jaxon, another Human named Mya, two fine Tatoran warriors named Lorthredo and Montaug, and two Scynthians named Nadina and Pharon. It was with this band of misfits that Jotus had just escaped Aanthora. Now, however, he traveled alone on a personal mission; a family matter. The others would have joined him, but they had important missions of their own to carry out. The fate of a species was literally at stake.

  Jotus carried only a long wooden staff, a water-skin, and a satchel containing some food and a few personal items. He pushed forward through the jungle, following the trail of destruction left behind by the Aanthoran army. The trail headed west, toward the great plains. The tracks were over a week old, but that didn't deter Jotus. By himself, he could cover much more ground in a day than an entire army could. It was his hope to overtake the army before they reached the plains. There, it would be much more difficult to approach them without notice.

  As he walked in the wake of the army, Jotus noticed many valuable items that had been left behind and strewn about. Among the discarded items were pots, pans, bowls, spoons, forks, broken arrowheads, broken spear shafts, ropes, cloth, etc. He sifted through these remains, keeping some things, but leaving most. In all his searching, however, he found no useable weapons. Before continuing on the army’s trail, he picked up a broken arrow that still had an arrowhead and lashed it to the tip of his staff. This way, if he came across any predators, or other Tatorans for that matter, his chances of survival would be slightly higher.

  Eventually, the hour grew late and the daylight began to fade. Jotus decided to make camp where he was, out in the open. He lit a small fire, not concerned by any other potential outlaws or bandits that may have been lurking about. He felt the four notches in each of his ears, which marked him as an outlaw. He had been banished from society; exiled from civilization. He knew he would be safe here, however, for he was not currently within any city limits.

  The fire drew attention from some nightly critters. As Jotus lay there next to the fire, a massive spider came crawling over his hand. It was covered in fine hairs and had a bulging rear end. He stared at the creature, unafraid. He knew the spider only wanted to warm itself near the fire. He left it alone, and eventually the spider moved on. Jotus soon drifted off to sleep.

  The days seemed to drag as Jotus moved further and further west. By his calculations, he was only a day or so from the jungle's edge. Ever since Jotus left Jaxon's group, he had kept tabs on them via Borburous. Borburous was a special creature, created by Jotus accidentally. He started as a small sac of meat, grown from a tree like an apple. After being buried, Borburous then grew into his own tree, though he was in fact a conscious, living being with telepathic abilities. As of late, however, his contact with Jotus had been few and far between. Jotus’ thoughts from the past day had gone completely unanswered.

  Jotus didn't mind the solitude. He had grown accustomed to it during his years working in the Harvesting District. Stricken by the tragic death of his tzulara, Valadine, and stuck seeing her face in their son, Jotan, he resorted to cultivating crops and drowning his sorrows in grogg.

  It should be mentioned that a tzulara on Tatora is the equivalent to a wife on Earth. In addition, a tzulamor equates to a husband. Once a year, Tatorans in every city gather together for Tzulamay. Tzulamay has two parts to it. It begins with an oath swearing ceremony, in which all cubs coming of age must swear their life-long loyalty and allegiance to their chieftain, and then to their high chieftain as well. After this ceremony there is a short reprieve before the second ceremony, generally with some food and festivities. When the second ceremony begins, all those who wish to become united for life with their partners come together. It is a communal wedding of sorts, and each partner makes a solemn vow to their significant other, a vow that is punishable by law if broken or violated. Then the real celebrations begin, filled with grogg, wine, and entertainment of all sorts. In some cities, generally in the more rural areas, the couples are given an extra task, one which is supposed to test the strength of the couple’s relationship. If the couple cannot successfully complete the given task, then their unification becomes void and they must wait until the next Tzulamay to try again. Jotus and Valadine, though not obligated by Aanthoran law, had performed the extra task successfully, and they had loved each other even more for it.

  Jotus thought again of his son, Jotan. He loved him beyond imagination, and he was the last connection Jotus had to his old life. Jotan never knew his mother, and Jotus, stricken with grief, had not been a good father. He regretted this dearly. Now, with the fires of rebellion and adventure once again churning within him, he would stop at nothing to get his son back.

  Suddenly, the familiar tingle of Borburous' mind crept into Jotus' psyche. It felt weaker than usual, but he was at a greater distance now.

  "Jotus," thought Borburous.

  Though it was just a thought, Jotus could feel the tragic urgency of the situation. Instantaneously, Borburous conveyed his thoughts and feelings to Jotus.

  "You're dying!" thought Jotus, "How can this be?"

  Again Borburous conveyed his thoughts.

  "Amentus! I should have known!" he thought, "but how did he know of you? The only other people who know of your existence are Jaxon and Demtrius, and they for sure would never condemn you."

  "The letter," thought Borburous.

  "The letter? Oh no, the letter!" shouted Jotus, though none were around to hear him. He had written a letter to his son days before and left it in his old office for Jotan to find. The letter detailed where Borburous could be found, and what to do with the already growing meat sacs. No longer did he want Aanthora to harvest the meat sacs for food, for now he knew they were living, rational creatures that could think and communicate.

  "Borburous, my friend, I'm so sorry. It is my fault you are dying now. I should have known better than to leave a note where it could be easily intercepted."

  "It is okay," thought Borburous, "It was an accident. I hold no ill will toward you for that which you did not intend."

  "But I've killed you, and there is no undoing that," said Jotus guiltily, "I don't understand how you can be so calm and at peace. You were only just beginning to spread your roots and limbs. You would have had hundreds, if not thousands, of years ahead of you if it weren't for me."

  "But if not for you, I never would have come into being in the first place. I would have been just another wasted sac of meat, grown in the Harvesting District and discarded because I was past ripe. At least this way I had an actual chance to grow and live, and I would thank you for that."

  "It was a pleasure to have known you, Borburous. I truly am sorry for the way things have turned out," said Jotus.

  "Perhaps we will meet again someday, in one form or another," said Borbu
rous, "but I must go now. The time is almost upon me."

  "I understand," said Jotus.

  “And Jotus,” thought Borburous, “remember, you are stronger than you think, and your son is proud to have you as his father.”

  Jotus looked surprised.

  "Goodbye, Jotus," thought Borburous.

  "Farewell, my friend," said Jotus.

  Then Borburous was gone, and Jotus was alone once more.

  Jotus trampled through the jungle, disheartened. Borburous, though vastly superior in intellect and wisdom, was like a child to Jotus. He had cultivated Borburous since he was nothing more than a budding flower, then nurtured him and talked to him while he was growing as a meat sac in the Harvesting District. Later, he had buried Borburous, unknowingly planting him. Borburous was his creation, and now Jotus had outlived him.

  "No one should ever outlive their children," he thought, "It just isn't natural."

  Needless to say, Jotus was depressed. Instead of sulking around, however, he decided to redouble his efforts, taking all of his pent up hate, anger, sadness, and frustration and focusing it on the goal at hand; rescuing Jotan.

  "That is, of course, if he wants to be rescued," thought Jotus.

  He brushed off the thought. Jotan may have been a young, impressionable Tatoran, but he was old enough to make his own decisions and stand by them. And as much as Jotus felt he wasn't there for Jotan’s childhood, he knew Jotan held the same morals and values as he did. It was in their blood; honor was in their blood.

  Suddenly, an arrow shot down and sunk into a tree only inches from his face. He took a step back, but another arrow landed just behind his heel. Now he stood there, searching in the trees for the archer, or archers.

  "I am unarmed," said Jotus aloud.

  "Remain where you are," said the voice, "Any movement and my archers will fill you with arrows."

  "Except for the pointed staff you carry," said a voice.

  Jotus turned in the direction of the voice. He raised both of his hands slowly, showing he had nothing to hide. Then, he placed the staff on the ground and again raised his hands in the air.

  "I understand," snapped Jotus, obviously annoyed with his predicament.

  Two Tatorans descended from the trees using skinny, black ropes.

  Jotus thought for a second, "Perhaps he is lying and it is only the two of them, trying to scare me into submission."

  He lifted his leg to move forward, but, upon doing so, felt the wind of another arrow as it passed directly in front of his eyes, just barely nipping his fur.

  "Well, I know there are at least three of them now," Jotus thought to himself.

  The two Tatorans were now on the ground and walking toward Jotus.

  "I am with others, many others," said Jotus, "If I don't return soon, they will come looking for me."

  "You are alone," said one of the Tatorans, the only one that had spoken thus far, "No one follows you, except for us."

  Jotus noticed this Tatoran carried only a sword. His companion, however, held a long bow in his hands and carried a full quiver of arrows over his shoulder. This bowman set an arrow to the string and aimed it at Jotus' breast.

  "We've been tracking your movements through the jungle for days now. You are a clumsy oaf, do you know that?" asked the swordsman, "Anyway, during that time, my friend and I have placed a wager. Now, how about you help us settle this bet."

  "And what bet is that?" asked Jotus.

  "My friend here, for some reason, seems to think you might be the exiled Jotus, once of Aanthora. I, however, know Jotus to be a tremendous warrior, and not one to be found obnoxiously stumbling through the jungle like some sort of infant. Now, would you care to prove me correct so that we may all be on our merry ways?" asked the swordsman.

  "I'm afraid I can't do that, for I am he, Jotus," he said with pride, "Now if that is all, I would be on my way."

  "Unfortunately for you, Jotus," said the swordsman with a devilish smile, "I now need to find a way to pay the debt I owe my friend. And since there is a high bounty for your capture, you are now coming with us."

  "A bounty? For what reason? I am not within the city, or any other surrounding settlements," said Jotus defensively.

  "No, but, in your absence, Amentus has placed a mighty high bounty on your head. Double, if you are taken alive. As I'm sure you've already surmised, we are mercenaries. We go where there is gold, and I see much gold when I look at you, Jotus. Your bounty will be the highest I've ever collected. You could say I'm making my name off of you," said the swordsman.

  "And what is your name?" asked Jotus, "I would like to know who is to be my captor."

  "I am Gringr, the Fierce," said the swordsman.

  A moment later, a third Tatoran came down from the trees on another black rope. He, too, carried a long bow and quiver. All the while, the initial bowman kept an arrow trained on Jotus' heart.

  "Where is the rest of your band?" asked Jotus.

  "We are it," said Gringr, still smiling and cheerful, "Now, hands behind your back prisoner. We have a bounty to collect."

  Gringr and his two confederates also followed the trail left behind by Amentus' army. In order to collect their bounty, they needed to personally transport Jotus to Amentus. Jotus was led using cuffs and chains, sturdy equipment for a Tatoran prisoner. He was completely confined and at their mercy. There was one thing, however, that the three mercenaries did not take into account, and that was Jotus' will and resolve.

  They walked for hours, constantly getting caught up due to the chains. They would have been able to move faster had they removed the cuffs, but Gringr didn't want to risk giving Jotus too much freedom. He was smart. What Gringr failed to realize, however, was that all the while during Jotus’ capture, he had been slowly crushing and breaking the bones in his hand in order to slip it free from the cuff. His left hand was already deformed, mangled by a white hot coal when escaping the Arkinian nomads. Now, his deformity would work in his favor.

  Jotus paid careful attention to the three Tatorans as he struggled with the cuffs. Eventually, he was able to free his hand. He feared the hand might now be crippled and unusable.

  He didn't want to lose the element of surprise, so instead of trying to take them all on at once, he decided to bide his time until a more opportune moment presented itself.

  They continued walking, and soon made it to the edge of the jungle. Gringr decided they'd make camp there since it was already late in the afternoon. One of the bowmen came up to Jotus to chain him to a nearby tree.

  Jotus prepared to strike.

  The bowman reached for the chain, and, just then, Jotus swung his fist with all his might, pummeling the bowman on the top of the head, knocking him unconscious. He then grabbed an arrow from the bowman's quiver and sprinted for the swordsman, who was only feet away with his back still turned. Jotus grabbed Gringr from behind and put the arrow to his neck. The other bowman saw what was happening and drew his bow, but he couldn't get a clean shot since Jotus kept Gringr between them.

  "Release him!" screamed the bowman.

  "Drop your weapon," yelled Jotus, "or he dies."

  The bowman looked at Gringr.

  "Do as he says," said Gringr. He then spoke to Jotus, "I guess you haven't lost your touch after all these years.”

  "A warrior never does," said Jotus.

  The bowman still held his bow, ready to fire.

  "What are you doing?" asked Gringr, "Do as he says, quickly!"

  "Why?" asked the bowman, with a crooked smile.

  With that, he fired his arrow into Gringr's chest, and then another at Jotus a split second later. Jotus was able to use Gringr's body as a shield, and the arrow stopped short with a dull thud. He then ran towards the bowman, still holding Gringr in front of him for coverage. The bowman fired another arrow, but it also stopped short in Gringr's body. Then, Jotus was upon the bowman. He freed Gringr's sword from its sheath, and threw aside Gringr's corpse. The bowman tried to use his bow to stop
the sword, but Jotus swung with such anger and might that he cut clean through the bow and down halfway through the bowman’s chest. The warrior looked stunned, with wide eyes and an open mouth. Jotus watched as the life drained from the Tatoran’s eyes.

  He turned to the first bowman, who still lay unconscious on the ground. Jotus went over to him and took his bow, quiver, and water-skin, then sprinkled some water on his face. The bowman woke up and shook his head. He cringed with pain from the blow Jotus had given him.

  "Where is the army headed?" asked Jotus.

  "What?" asked the bowman, still somewhat disoriented.

  "Tell me what I need to know, and I will let you live," said Jotus, "Now, where is the army? Where is Amentus?"

  "They are camped far out on the plains, many miles south of the Ra-hoon Valley. There, they await the arrival of the Arkinian warriors. It is there that we were to meet Amentus," said the bowman.

  "The Arkinians?" asked Jotus, "Why does he await their arrival? They are friend to no clan."

  "Recent encounters have left them sympathetic to Amentus' cause. They wish to aid Amentus in ridding this planet of the Dotarans and any others who would conspire with them," said the bowman.

  Jotus thought back to his recent capture by Kirchuk, leader of the Arkinian nomads. He knew it was his escape that had fueled the Arkinian nomads to join the fight.

  The bowman looked at Jotus, obviously frightened for his life.

  "Go on now, get out of here," said Jotus.

  "But my bow-"

  "Go, now, before I change my mind!" growled Jotus.

  Without another word, the bowman turned and fled into the jungle.

  Chapter Two – In The Guise Of A Warrior