Post by zimraphel on Nov 25, 2008 15:59:52 GMT -5
Although they rode toward Rocha at a frenzied pace, neither He-Man nor any of his companions cherished any real hope of being able to help. From the moment the message had reached them, and long before, it was already too late. They had known it in the messenger's panicked voice, and confirmed it when they passed from autumn into a grimly familiar waste land. And the devastation there was already old; the na'dani had struck in the small hours when people were still asleep. They had had no time to be afraid. They had never even known. And this time there had been no survivors.
Yet as he and his companions cleared the blackened fields and approached the village, He-Man felt hope stir in him as twenty or thirty ragged figures came running toward them. Surely the messenger had been wrong; they must be survivors.
That hope died quickly. Metal flashed. One of the running figures lunged at Blackstar's horse, seizing the reins and trying to drag him off. He-Man drew his sword and tried to go to his aid, but found the path in front of him cut off by a group of five or six. He could not see their faces; all he saw were wild eyes and knives. What do they want? One of them sprang forward, slashing at the air with his knife, but Battlecat roared and threatened to pounce. All at once, they fell back, stumbling over each other in their terror; the Eledhrin's two warriors rode them down before they could escape.
With his one free hand, Blackstar wrenched the horse's reins free, then shook off his attacker with a single, savage kick to the head. The man crumpled, clutching at his face with both hands; blood flowed from between his fingers. But that apparently wasn't enough for the furious Eledhrin; he struggled to get his arm free of the sling so he could draw his sword. He paused only when he saw He-Man riding toward him.
The thunder of hooves and a cloud of dust suddenly rose up from the direction of the village outbuildings. A dozen riders appeared, bristling with armor and weapons. He-Man saw them and tightened his grip on his sword; it was several minutes before he realized no one else was doing the same.
The riders broke formation, spilling out over the open ground after the men who had just attacked He-Man and his party. The latter tried to flee, save for a reckless few who brandished their knives and attempted to stand their ground. For all of them, it was all over within a few minutes.
As the dust settled, two riders came galloping toward the stranded company; He-Man saw that one of them had wind-tangled white hair. Camarin. The other rider was Tharada.
Blackstar wasn't smiling. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.
"The Che'vani, my lord---"
"Yes, I can see that. What are they doing here?"
Camarin looked uneasy. "I'm not exactly sure."
A low moan came up from the ground between them. The man Blackstar had kicked was still alive, writhing and groaning in pain from a broken jaw. Tharada dispatched him with a quick thrust of his spear. Then he asked, "Did this scum attack you, my lord?"
"Try to leave me two or three alive."
As dusk fell, they rode into the village. As at Devor, there were no corpses, all of them having been removed earlier. No ghosts, nor physical reminders, only the blackened earth outside and the Eledhrin's cold anger inside; the former was easily forgotten in the darkness, the latter commanded the attention of everyone present.
As He-Man quickly learned, the Eledhrin neither shouted nor smashed objects when he was angry. That was not his way. After a short while, He-Man began to think that perhaps a tantrum would have been preferrable. The silence which attended Camarin's report was so complete it verged on terrifying.
That morning, the corpse of the first na'dani had been dragged into the hills and buried under a landslide. Near the quarry that was now the na'dani's grave, some men had found a trail of blackened earth leading down into the valley. They knew by now what it was, and knew that the breach must be somewhere nearby, but before they could investigate word had come about Rocha's fate.
"What about the Che'vani?" the Eledhrin finally asked.
Camarin was visibly uncomfortable. "They appeared out of nowhere, my lord, just before you did."
The Eledhrin paused to empty the contents of a small vial into a glass of wine and drink it. He grimaced at the taste. "I thought I ordered you to keep things quiet."
"You did, my lord," came the reply. "I do not know how they knew. Perhaps you ought to question the Che'vani themselves."
Orders were given. Three Che'vani, all those who had been spared by the etteva--and then only at the Eledhrin's orders--were hauled into the room. He-Man could not follow what was said next, as the Che'vani and the Eledhrin snapped and snarled at each other in what had to be one of the ugliest languages he'd ever heard. But he didn't need words to understand that the Che'vani were somehow enemies of the Eledhrin and that their lives had not been spared indefinitely. The last thirty-six hours had taught He-Man that the people of this world could not and did not permit their enemies to live. He knew what was coming next. As the guttural exchange continued unabated, he tucked himself into a corner and tried very hard to think about something else.
Battlecat, always more sensible, wasn't even in the room.
And then, the exchange abruptly ceased. Steel flashed in the silence, about to fall, until the Eledhrin's voice stopped it.
"Not in here," he told his etteva. "Take them outside."
The three Che'vani were hauled to their feet and dragged out into the night air. They had barely gone when the Eledhrin ordered everyone else out of the room. In the shuffling of bodies, He-Man remained where he was.
And once the room was cleared, Blackstar must have sensed that he still was not alone. "I suppose you've some things to say to me?" he asked over his shoulder.
"A few things, yes."
"If you're going to criticize me, save your breath. Come to the table and eat something." More request than command. All anger, all passion seemed to have drained from his voice.
Though his stomach was rumbling, He-Man wasn't sure he felt like eating. "You're not eating anything."
"No, I guess not." The other man stared at the plate someone had set before him.
He-Man cautiously took a seat across from him. "Tell me about the Che'vani. Who are they?" Who were they? Their bodies would be growing cold by now.
"The Che'vani? People from the east lands. Nomads," was the reply.
"Are they all like that?"
"No. Some of the Che'vani are honest herders and traders, but others have become a nuisance. I don't know why. I just know they raid villages, they steal and kill indiscriminately. I tried to negotiate with them for a while, but these people exist on the fringes of even their own culture. They don't negotiate with outsiders--hell, they don't negotiate, period--they don't respect the boundaries of either the living or the dead. That's what they came here to do, to rob the dead."
"They told you?" He-Man had already decided he wasn't going to comment on the Eledhrin's decision to execute the three Che'vani; he knew it wasn't his place.
"They told me."
His curiosity about the Che'vani satisfied, He-Man made a sustained effort to eat something, though he felt somewhat awkward about cleaning his plate and going for a second helping when no one else was eating. "Are you feeling all right?" he finally asked.
Blackstar nodded. He looked listless and troubled.
"How's the arm?"
"It'll be fine by morning."
He-Man paused to empty his tankard; the local ale was a lush, dark brew unlike any found in Eternia. "Lord Camarin spoke of a trail. We can go looking for the na'dani tomorrow."
"Let's just hope it doesn't strike during the night."
"I don't think it would come back here."
"No, and there aren't any settlements in the hills, not at this time of year, but there are other places here in the lowlands. Villages like this one, and Devor." Blackstar suddenly clenched his jaw and glared at He-Man the way he'd glared at the Che'vani, and suddenly he was the Eledhrin again, all steel and ice. "Why did you lie about Devor? This morning at the Well of Falas, when the Sorceress asked if the na'dani had done much harm, you said no. No? Two hundred and thirty-three people isn't harm enough? And I'm not even adding to that the lives lost here at Rocha."
He understood; he had been expecting this. "I know, but I couldn't tell her. She would have blamed herself for what happened, for not sensing the na'dani sooner. And I'm not going to tell her about this, either."
Blackstar chewed his lower lip, his eyes feverish with emotion. "Why should you tell her? Rocha is on my head, not hers."
"What do you mean?"
"I could have evacuated this place yesterday. I knew enough, then. I sent the survivors from Devor here where they would be safe, cared for, but now they're dead just the same. Perhaps no one could have known about Devor until it was too late, maybe it was inevitable--I really don't know right now--but I know that Rocha didn't have to happen."
He-Man started to speak, to say he was sorry, but remembered then what Blackstar had said last night about the futility of such apologies and quickly stifled the words. In this case, perhaps Blackstar was right; words were hollow things that neither erased the past nor soothed the spirit.The people of Rocha, like Devor, had lived relying upon the Eledhrin's protection. Now he sat in an empty room in one of their empty houses, and their ghosts were everywhere around him. Little wonder, then, that he could not eat. He-Man said nothing, and yet felt he should.
"Sleep well?"
Battlecat answered with a huge yawn.
At least someone felt rested. "We're going after the na'dani today."
"Good. Then we can go home."
He-Man understood exactly how he felt. "Not yet, Cat. This last part is going to be dangerous. I know you're ready, but...."
"Don't worry." At least, Battlecat never seemed to. "Best to finish things, better than staying here." He wanted out of Rocha. The place was starkly quiet--the kind of quiet that was like a scream--and somber. Battlecat had been in the barn earlier and had found the bodies of the three Che'vani still swaying from the rafters. They did not frighten him, only made him uneasy.
Standing only a few yards away, Blackstar must have heard, for not long after he ordered the corpses cut down and burned.
Dawn began to color the horizon. He-Man checked his gear for what must have been the tenth time, while Battlecat huffed and told him to relax.
"We ought to be on the road by now," He-Man said. Yesterday morning it had still been dark when they left Dha'Alasia. "I wonder what the delay is."
"Why don't you ask?"
Leaving the great feline's side, He-Man approached one of the etteva and asked where the Eledhrin was. The barn. He made his way past the lone sentry and the three bodies heaped by the entrance, nooses still knotted about their throats, and walked straight into an argument.
If He-Man was impatient to be gone from Rocha, then Blackstar was even more so. Camarin, however, insisted he have an escort, which He-Man knew he would refuse. The plan they had settled upon last night called for the two of them, plus Battlecat, to go alone into the hills; anyone else would simply get in the way and likely become, as the Eledhrin grimly put it, na'dani fodder. Camarin either didn't see that or didn't want to.
"I had an escort three nights ago," said Blackstar, "and lost most of it. I'm telling you right now that any etev that tags along is only going to get in the way and probably killed."
"Death does not frighten us, my lord."
"Spare me the stoic bullshit, will you? You have your orders."
"You cannot just ride off with some str--"
"The answer is no. Don't make me threaten anyone with the penalty for disobedience."
Camarin backed down, casting a suspicious glance at He-Man. Blackstar, whose back was to the door, caught the gesture and turned to see who was there. He nodded. "Yes, I know. We're going."
As they stepped outside, Blackstar paused by the three corpses. He turned to the sentry. "I thought I ordered them burned."
"Yes, my lord. The men are gathering wood for a pyre."
The Eledhrin nodded. His last words were to Camarin, ordering him to keep an eye out for the Che'vani. "Call up more men if you have to. I don't want to have to deal with them again on this trip."
When they finally left Rocha, He-Man couldn't help feeling he'd somehow stepped from shadow into sunlight. He'd slept badly last night, knowing the bed he lay in was where someone had died not twenty-four hours earlier. Aside from Battlecat, who could sleep through a thunderstorm if tired enough, He-Man doubted anyone else had gotten much sleep. The man riding beside him certainly hadn't; Blackstar had spent half the night pacing the floorboards in the adjoining room.
Every two or three hundred paces, Blackstar glanced back over his shoulder as if looking for something. He-Man quietly observed him for a time, then asked what was wrong.
"Just making sure we're not being followed."
"By the Che'vani?"
"No, not them. My men."
"I thought you gave orders."
"I know, but....let's just say that sometimes their loyalty is greater than their obedience."
"I heard you mention something about a penalty for disobedience. What is that exactly." He-Man paused, wondering if he should have spoken. "Do I really want to know?"
"No, I don't think you do."
There wasn't much talk after that, not even to discuss the na'dani whose trail they were following; what little information they possessed, whatever plans needed to be made, had passed between them yesterday. Now each man's thoughts slipped inward, and a pensive silence hung in the air. Such quiet wasn't uncommon in the hours just before battle, He-Man reflected. Every warrior took time to prepare in his or her own way.
As the sun climbed toward midday, the two warriors stopped to stretch their legs and allow Battlecat and the horse to rest. He-Man found a wide, flat rock with blackened weeds still clinging to it, and on this the two men sat and shared a small meal. After last night's grim supper, He-Man was quietly grateful to see Blackstar was eating something, but wondered about the vial that appeared in the other man's hand. It was the same one he'd had last night.
Blackstar saw him looking. "It's a painkiller," he explained. "All this riding around isn't helping my arm much."
Privately, He-Man had begun to doubt his claim that the injury was just a sprain, but as he watched Blackstar shake a few drops from the vial into his cup and drink it, he said nothing.
Midday passed. The hills loomed larger in the distance. An hour's ride away, two at the most. The shadow feeling came back, the same oppressive chill He-Man remembered from two days ago. The na'dani was somewhere nearby; it would have to be killed before the breach could be sealed, and if there was a second or even a third....It was possible.
At that moment, He-Man would have preferred to find himself riding toward Snake Mountain.
The worm stirred, tasting the air through its flesh. Something new, something alive, was drawing near. Curiosity impelled it to spread its senses, not hunger; after so long an emptiness, it had gorged itself on light and life to the point of agony, and now waited in a dark and silent place for the hunger to return.
But this new thing made it pause; somehow it knew it had tasted such before, a thing that had not sated its hunger but caused it. Something from before, that it did not want again.The worm curled into itself to wait.
Clouds were gathering far to the west, just beyond the hills. A storm was coming. Blackstar huddled into his cloak and grimaced as it the droplets were already falling. That was all he needed now, a sky bruised dark with rain clouds to remind him how much his arm hurt. The thanna dulled the pain somewhat, enough that he could continue the journey, but he found he needed increasingly more of it. Soon his supply would either run dry or become useless to him.
The Eternian had begun to notice. Too polite to object, of course, but constantly asking if he was all right.
"Yes, I'm fine."
He was not fine and he knew it. When his arm wasn't numb it throbbed with a bone-jarring ache. He'd known as early as yesterday morning that it wasn't a sprain, but something far worse.
In a few hours he knew he would be shivering with fever. He shut the thought out of his mind; it wouldn't be the first time he'd gone sick or injured into a battle. But it might be your last, said a tiny voice in his head. I don't care, he answered. I just want to finish this.
Beside him, the Eternian--please, call me He-Man--noticed the storm clouds. "Looks like it's going to be a bad one," he said. "Maybe we should find shelter."
We haven't got time for that. Blackstar nodded weakly. "I know a place just up ahead."
Right now, he trusted the Eternian's judgment better than his own.
Once he had known these hills as well as he knew the woods around his home at Dha'Alasia and Kal'en Haran. The quarry, the hunter's and stonecutter's trails, the myriad caves that dotted the heights. But everything was changed now, all uniformly dark and dead. It was difficult to know where he was, though he thought the old quarry might be somewhere off to the left. There would be some caves nearby, perhaps. He wished he could think long enough to remember.
Exhaustion did nothing to blunt the pain in his arm, only the weight of the more than four hundred dead in the valley below. None of it, not even the pain, felt real to him.
The air grew heavy with the smell of rain, though the storm itself was still off in the distance. An hour, no more, then it would be upon them.
A steady vibration suddenly ran up his right thigh. He reached across with his left hand; the hilt of his sword was humming through the thick leather of his glove. If he drew it, he knew the blade would already be writhing with white fire.
Darkness clouded his vision, then the cold gripped him. Not the storm. Something closer, more ominous. Chancing a quick glance to his right, he saw the Eternian also sensed it. Already, his sword was in his hand and crackling with golden light.
"I think this is it," he said.