Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 8

Gammo Tsolast, Master Lancer First Class of The Gara-Morsa Armed Defence Contingent, knew he was going to die. That was the only way his current predicament was likely to end - the Cursed were going to make him or his companion talk, then, whether they told their captors what they wanted to know or not, he and Lancer Second Class Mahtur Rabbes would be killed and, if the wilder rumours were true, eaten.

The Interrogation took place is a dimly-lit cave, where four of the Cursed were gathered around the two battered and bloodied warriors - the dark and more heavily-scaled leader of the attack, a pale, more delicate golden creatures Tsolast assumed was female, and two others that remained unseen behind the captives, guards and perhaps executioners, carrying out the instructions of their leader. Instructions delivered, as were the questions, in piece-meal Gara-Morsa speech...

"Why you come forest?", growled the dark Cursed. "You hunt Gara-Laserma?"

The Master Lancer, cradling his broken arm, struggled up onto his knees. "Gammo Tsolast, Master Lancer First Class; ident-code Four-Six-Zero-Three..."

The warrior found himself back on the cave floor again, face down, a hoof crushing him into the damp stone. "Name and rank we know!", snarled his Gara-Laserma guard. "Answer you give!"

The leader of the Cursed turned side-on to his captives, and walked over to Lancer Rabbes. "You not talk", said the dark Gara-Laserma, more a monster than any other Cursed the warriors had ever heard about, let alone seen. "Too much hurting?"

Rabbes had been pulled from the navigator's seat of the squad's land-racer, breaking his leg in the process. He was young for a Gara-Morsa warrior, a couple of years past childhood, but he seemed to be withstanding the pain of his injury with the bravery expected of his people's defenders, answering with the officially-sanctioned response to hostile questioning: "Mah-Mahtur Rabbes... L... Lancer Second Class... ident- ident-code Eight-Zero... Zero-Three..."

The dark and imposing Cursed looked past Rabbes, to the Gara-Laserma behind the crippled warrior. The glint in the eyes of the Cursed leader looked so out of place in what was supposed to be a civilised creature - such an expression more suited a wild animal. "Jav'ras? You ever eat Gara-Morsa?"

"No, Zserreth...", the guard replied, sounding alarmed, even disgusted, and Tsolast felt a brief flicker of hope. Not all the Cursed were blood-thirsty monsters, after all - and maybe Jav'ras might even be capable of something approaching mercy.

"Perhaps you should try", suggested Zserreth. "I ask this one again - and if it not answer right, you bite hurt leg off..."

Zserreth might have looked like a monster, but that frightful form contained a keen mind, an intellect that knew to exercise the most pressure upon the weakest; the youngest, and more gravely injured of the prisoners. Armed Defence Contingent training was, however, emphatic, in that no threat, no coercion was great enough to justify betrayal of the Gara-Morsa, be they fellow warriors or non-combatant civilians, but it still crossed Tsolast's mind to intervene. There was no point in keeping a simple forest patrol a secret when a young man's life was threatened...

"No...!"

Tsolast had expected the Cursed called Jav'ras to be the one to object, but the cry came, instead, from the golden-coated Gara-Laserma, the high, horrified voice giving the warrior further evidence to support his assumption that the other Cursed he could actually see was a female. Zserreth wheeled round to confront the smaller four-legged creature, addressing her in stern tones, in the language of their people, and the paler, more elegant Cursed edged backwards a half-step, then stood her ground - and responded in Gara-Morsa, far more coherent than any of the others.

"You cannot do this, Zserreth!", she exclaimed, as their gases met, and became locked together. "You will only convince these people that we are the monsters of their legends, servants of evil made flesh...!"

Zserreth spat out a string of Gara-Laserma words, and for the second time, Tsolast heard one particular word - chaa'ress. He wondered if that was the name of the strangely beautiful creature, and an idea struck him...

Tsolast delved deep into his childhood memories, trying to recall those few words of Gara-Laserma he had picked up when his grandparents told him those fantastic, silly stories of a time when the Cursed did not attack and eat people. As confident as he could be that he had recalled what he needed, the Master Lancer took a chance, and spoke: "Chaa'ress. Not kill Tsolast...?"

The female Cursed broke away from Zserreth's gaze, and her improbably gentle eyes fell upon the Gara-Morsa warrior, a spark of wonder and joy deep within them. This was a civilised being - a person - who understood, and was now experiencing her own flash of hope.

Zserreth remained unmoved from his "plan of attack", and the Master Lancer, with a tinge of disgust, had to concede that the monstrous Gara-Laserma was as much a warrior as any of the Armed Defence Contingent. "You want Gara-Morsa to live, Chaa'ress", Zserreth snarled in Gara-Morsa, "then you ask question. They say name and number - they die. Say what you like, how you like; we will know what they say..."

Chaa'ress lowered her head, and pushed past Zserreth's armoured flank, to stand between him and the prisoners. "Zserreth will kill you if you do not answer", she warned the warriors, in fluent Gara-Morsa. "We do not need to know your secrets, your defences, but you must tell us something - this is all I can dare to do for you..."

"I... I don't wanna die, Master Lancer", whimpered Rabbes, caught in a whirlwind of fear and pain no man could endure for long. "I don't wanna die..."

Tsolast had already made his decision, and it was unswayed by his fellow warrior's collapse of confidence. "We were sent out on a perimeter patrol detail, to investigate..."

The Master Lancer had been going to continue his response with the words "...possible security threats resulting from the deaths of three hunters out in the wilds yesterday", but something moved across his admittedly restricted field of view, and put itself between him and the snarling monster Zserreth. From his prone position, all he could see was a curtain of black hair, like a waterfall that struck protruding rocks halfway down, and was forced into two separate cascades, and behind that were what appeared to be slender legs clad, seemingly exclusively, in glossy black, form-fitting high-heeled boots.

"Continue with this", announced a woman's voice that was neither Gara-Morsa nor Gara-Laserma, alien, yet simultaneously haunting and alluring, "and you know how it will end. You'll be hunted, and there will be a slaughter - the Gara-Laserma cannot hope to defend themselves..."

"And how do you know this, otherworlder!", roared Zserreth - somehow, Tsolast could understand every word he said, but the Cursed seemed to be speaking only Gara-Laserma. "Don't think that playing as one of us has somehow given you some deep insight into the workings of our world!"

"I've seen enough conflicts, enough battles - things you couldn't even begin to imagine - to get a fairly good idea of the anatomy of war", said the stranger. "You can at least try to avoid this - get your people out of here, before the military arrive, and let them find me, with these two men, safe and... relatively well. From that start-point, I can talk to the Gara-Morsa, stop the madness before it consumes everything, everyone..."

"Asor may trust you, but he is just one of us, and he does not speak for us all", snarled Zserreth. "As far as I know, you favour the Gara-Morsa, and your friendship is just a lie, a trap for us..."

"Stay, then, and fight, when the battle comes to you", said the woman, remaining constantly calm. "You'll die. Then there'll be war, and the rest of your people will die. And then The Dark Child hits the planet, and maybe everyone dies - if luck is on their side. But at least, you'll all be happy, staying true to your ignorant, arrogant selves right to the end."

"The Dark Child...?", murmured the Master Lancer, quite forgetting that the slightest interruption in the argument could lead to his execution. "The Curse-Bringer?"

"Nonsense", Zserreth snapped, lunging closer to the mysterious woman. "That Which Blesses is no threat to us! It is what makes us stronger than we could ever have been without it! That strength is what the Gara-Morsa fear, what makes them build weapons, train thousands of warriors!"

"Speak to Niramth, in Taalsem City", the black-haired female responded, icy calm despite the fact that the monstrous Cursed was looming over her, breath tainted with Gara-Morsa blood washing over her. "This is his specialist field, the study of bodies in space, and his findings make it quite clear that The Dark Child is being drawn off its course towards Gara-Laras. At this time, impact is inevitable, the damage catastrophic..."

Suddenly, Rabbes spoke up, catching everyone by surprise. "It... it's her!", exclaimed the young warrior. "She... you're the one - the friend of the Cursed, Asor, in... in those stories...!"

"That's illegal material you're talking about, Lancer!", Tsolast shouted across to him. "That'll earn you a discommendation at least - if we survive..."

"Keep them quiet!", Zserreth barked to the Cursed guards. "Either of them speaks..."

"Oh, shut up", sighed the woman, who Tsolast had to admit did resemble the woman described in what little he had dared to read of the stories written by the Gara-Laserma called Asor - stories the Master Lancer had assumed to be just wild and fanciful nonsense. "Shut up, and listen - the Gara-Morsa military are getting closer, and when they get here, they will use every weapon at their disposal on you, and nothing The Dark Child has done to any of you will protect you from that, I assure you. On the other hand, I can - give me these two soldiers, and get out now!"

"If you are Asor's Mane-of-Night", said Chaa'ress, "then you are capable of more than any of us. I trust you - and that's why I'm leaving, no matter what anyone else says, and I'm taking as many as will come with me!"

"You trust the word of this... this outsider above mine?", exclaimed Zserreth. "You could be running straight into the clutches of those who would slay our young and put the heads of the most innocent of Gara-Laserma on their walls as decorations...!"

That thought turned Tsolast's stomach. He would do everything he could to defend his people, from any and all dangers - but that kind of slaughter could never be right, never be justified. "I'll go with the lady", he interrupted. "If what she says about the Curse-Bringer is true, fighting amongst ourselves now is madness - I... I'll do all I can to stop our forces from chasing you..."

"Well, that's one from each side able to talk some sense", said the woman Rabbes had identified as Asor's exotic companion. "We'll only be able to find more, like-minded souls if we avoid conflict..."

She turned to face Zserreth: "...and what are you going to lose? Two prisoners who have no information to give you? A camp-site, maybe - but no more lives..."

A vertical slash of light flashed across the wall, between Zserreth and where Lancer Rabbes was lying, dazzling Tsolast's dark-attuned eyes. "Zserreth!", called out a new voice in the returning dark. "Gara-Morsa! Lots of them, with weapons and vehicles, coming up from the river...!"

Zserreth's faintly glowing eyes looked down, narrowed, at Mane-of-Night. "Take them", he muttered to her. "If this danger you speak of is real, then make the Gara-Morsa understand."

The leader of the Cursed flicked his head upwards, and the two guards left their positions behind the prisoners. "Just don't expect me to come racing to your rescue", added the thick-scaled Gara-Laserma. "I won't risk sending a single one of my people, let alone myself, into Gara-Morsa territory as long as the slightest threat from hunters remains."

"Do as you see fit", said the woman, always an island of absolute calm and reason in the midst of all the hate and threats of torture, "but stay your hand, please. Give the Gara-Morsa no more reason to pursue you."

Light streamed into the cave as the two guards held open the heavy curtain that had blocked out any and all illumination from outside, and with Chaa'ress by his side, Zserreth headed for the exit, their hooves clattering on the cave floor. "Give the Gara-Morsa no doubt that we will respond with all our fury if the hunting continues", he said as he went out into the sun, "and make sure they understand that our cessation of hostility was your idea, and not a sign of weakness on our part. May the Spirits walk beside you, Mane-of-Night, Child of Mystalorn, and protect you from harm - for, this time, I cannot."

The woman turned to face the wounded warriors, and with a flick of her fingers, a sphere of light, like a tiny sun, sprang into existence up near the cave ceiling, letting all of them see each other clearly. Not speaking, the graceful alien, with pointed ears and large golden eyes, stooped next to each of them, Rabbes first, then Tsolast, a curious liquid light that seemed to leak from her gloved finger-tips washing over their injuries, soothing their pain - and apparently putting right the ugly break in Rabbes's leg...

Whispering his thanks, Rabbes started to pull himself somewhere close to upright, but his gratitude was drowned out by the priming of energy-lances, and the shouts of Gara-Morsa warriors. "Hold your ground! Shed any weapons! You are instructed to submit to The Gara-Morsa Armed Defence Contingent, or face immediate punishment!"

The cave was filled with Lancers, only half of them able to level a weapon at Mane-of-Night as she stood, and placed her hands behind her head. "I am Mane-of-Night, Child of Mystalorn", she announced. "I offer no resistance..."

Tsolast tried to stand, but he was too weak. He wanted to put himself between the woman and his fellow Lancers, but there wasn't the strength left in him. All he had left was his voice, but before he could speak out in Mane-of-Night's defence, use his rank to get the warriors to lower their weapons, the woman from another world added something that almost immediately blunted the tension that filled the air. "...but I do offer you this - the chance to save yourselves. The Gara-Laserma. Everything you hold dear..."

Tsolast had no idea why, but the last thing she said sounded as though it had some special significance to her, or it was somehow supposed to have deeper meaning, beyond those four, simple words...

"Take me to your leader."

...to be continued...

Posted at 23:59 on 04.05.2009


~ o O o ~


Previously...
Mane-of-Night And The Watcher From Beyond - Chapter 1 - 21.06.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 14 - 17.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 13 - 15.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 12 - 13.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 11 - 11.05.2009