Dangerous magic wielders invade the stone age to replace humanity with a species fit to serve their kind. One man was sent to stop them and a group of misfits join the struggle for existence. Archaeology and cryptozoology meld into high fantasy.
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Sachet focused on his hearing. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze. He could faintly hear the trickle of water. Birdsong surrounded him. He sat with legs twined around a branch just higher than he could reach without jumping. Stillness was the key to hunting within the brine, perhaps it would help him kill a landed animal as well.
Thokmay and Yuwa had provided most of the meat, fish, tubers, greens, fruit, and nuts that had sustained them while in the forest. He was only a half day's run from the mangrove forest his people claimed as their landed territory. If only his soulwalking ability had an effect on animals. The Firebringer simply persuaded volunteers. The Ebu Gogo held still, save his feet, until fish thought his long toes were worms. How could humans who had only just crossed into conscious awareness be his superior in land animal hunting?
Sachet determined to count this hunt a success, even if he spent half the night waiting in the tree.
A twig snapped. Branches rustled. The Waterbreather hefted his spear in anticipation of big game. Then, the animal began to speak. Another animal, no, a human answered. Their accents were unlike those of the landed humans he knew. Sachet saw the column of Ghostkin soldiers even as the first man through the brush spotted him.
The warrior's eyes flashed wide under a bear-skull helm. An uneven grin revealed half as many chipped yellow teeth as it should have. He opened his mouth to call warning to the warriors pushing through the thick undergrowth.
Sachet's spear arm reacted instinctively. The flint tip slammed into the Ghostkin's open mouth. Blood sprayed the brush as the force from the spear's impact tumbled the dying warrior into the giant behind him.
"If I were with you guys, I would have brought dinner home tonight." The Waterbreather leapt to the forest floor and dashed away from the warriors.
He could hear their curses and footfalls as they pursued. Quick glances over his shoulder confirmed there was a larger group than his two handed tally. How did those numbers the Skinchanger recited go? The sounds were too strange for him to recall. How had Acacia picked them up so readily?
A spear deflected from a tree to his side and his legs entwined the shaft. Sachet tumbled to the forest floor. He scrambled to his feet, spear in hand, and then heard his opportunity to gain a lead over his pursuers. The river's melodic thrum was close and beyond that, the roar of a waterfall.
"Seafood tonight," a Ghostkin growled from the approaching column of warriors. He gestured and the other warriors began to fan out to Sachet's sides.
Sachet hurled the spear at a warrior, and bolted without checking to see if it struck. Leaping over upturned roots, crashing through thorny bushes, and dodging trees he raced toward the sound of flowing water and safety. No other human could hope to take him once submerged. It was possible these cannibal giants could not even swim.
He pushed himself, breath coming in ragged gasps, skin speckled with blood from thorns and broken branches. The shouts and sounds of pursuit closed in on him from three sides. These Ghostkin knew the business of hunting humans, there could be no doubt.
