Chapter 10: Erosion

I kinda like this one, at this moment. I kinda like the whole thing at the moment ^_^

I was recently told my narrative felt disjointed (I'm paraphrasing). I gotta find a way to work on that while keeping the ultra-short format. At least, that's probably what I need to do? We'll see.

Series starts here, episode starts here, and chapter starts here or down there.

Chapter 10: Erosion

This was infuriating. The girl’s family had managed to delay Guarang’s unit for a few meager moments, and now it seemed the elements themselves had conspired to keep him from his glory. Coincidence after coincidence had prolonged her fate; her Breathing pedigree, the indifference of Southern peasants, the Dawnless Woods serving as her ironic sanctuary. Now this abomination appeared at this precise moment, when they’d cornered her among these savages. Why had this routine task become such a trial? Was the Destroyer testing him?  

Guarang supposed it didn’t matter. This monster, the primitive warriors standing in his way, and especially the impudent woman who lead them: he’d take great pleasure in releasing his frustration on them.

In what order, though? The monster’s arrival had complicated things. If it really wasn’t one of theirs, would it be prudent to let it live a little longer? If it attacked his soldiers, could they defeat it and the savages at the same time?

Guarang knew these thoughts weren’t like him. This was the vanguard’s approach, not an assassin’s. He was out of patience and out of time, so he supposed this was an auspicious change of attitude.

“Visheta!” He called.

“Captain.” Her voice wasn’t far off.

“Come to me.” Once she was close enough, he lowered his voice. “I need you to gather the hostage-takers. We need everyone, and we can’t be weighed down by their weak. I don’t know who this monster finds more appetizing, and I want to be ready if it decides to attack us.”

“Sir,” she acknowledged before bounding away.

The moon was bright, but the bonfire was brighter. His eyes were trying to adjust to it, and that made it more difficult to see his enemy. Luckily, he was a Breather, and the wind told him she’d stopped when the monster appeared.

“Give us the girl, and we’ll leave you be,” Guarang offered. “You stood little enough chance against us. We both know you can’t fight both us and this monster.”

“Beasties don’t come ta us lookin’ fer food, stranger,” the savage replied. “They know better. This’n’s here for you people. Don’t much care if ya believe me, you’ll know it’s true soon enough.”

Guarang regretted every chance he’d given his enemies. “Erode the savages!”

The soldiers were quick to obey. The tactic was a loose engagement, to bait the enemy out of formation and dispatch them one-by-one, much like how the wind wore away at mountains. The attackers seemed to outnumber the defenders, so Guarang hoped this wouldn’t take long.

The savages seemed to be prepared for this approach. They lashed at the Breathers when they drew close enough, but didn’t pursue when they retreated. Guarang realized the girl could have- no, he was certain she betrayed their secrets. If he had any doubts about her treachery, they were gone now.

The monster made its sound again - like an enormous horse nickering - and for the first time, Guarang caught a glimpse of it. It had four legs like tree trunks, thick and flat-bottomed. Its hide glinted like armor, and its neck was shielded by an enormous, bony crest. The head seemed small compared to its oblong body, but a wicked horn, front edge as sharp as his scimitar, jutted out of its snout.

It barreled towards Guarang’s soldiers, apparently seeing an opportunity in their attack. It shouldn’t matter. It would grow tired of chasing such nimble prey…

Its momentum built faster than Guarang anticipated, and one of his soldiers failed to run in time. He tried to cry out, but was silenced under one immense footfall.

The sight was almost enough to distract him from the nearer beast. Unlike her composed comrades, the savage woman charged towards him. Did she believe she could win the night by challenging the captain?

Guarang had other priorities. “Nabhi!”

The warrior leapt from behind him to intercept his attacker. She halted as Nabhi’s blade nicked her shoulder. It seemed he’d caught her full attention.

“You’re satisfied?” Guarang was surprised and relieved that Nabhi had been so compliant. He’d never wanted this insubordinate glory-monger in his squad. Nabhi didn’t have the normal soldier’s discipline, hadn’t even been born into the caste. He fought for some perverse sense of valor, not because it was his duty. If Nabhi weren’t so potent, he’d have been executed long ago. Tonight, that seemed to be working to Guarang’s advantage.

“Quite,” Nabhi replied. “So long as you don’t interfere.”

“My attention’s needed elsewhere,” Guarang assured. “Consider yourself lucky.”

“Ya might not wanna send ‘im away,” the savage taunted. “Ya may find ya need ‘is help.”

“Come, we don’t need to insult each other,” Nabhi answered. “Consider it a compliment I chose you, despite the fact you have no weapon. That’s how highly I appraise you.”

“Aye?” The woman’s hand wandered to her waist and fumbled around her belt. Guarang scoffed; had she really forgotten her weapon? “Ya got more sense than I woulda guessed. Sorry, stranger, I done ya wrong.”

“Forgiven. Just don’t disappoint me.”

Before Guarang departed, he noticed the savage glancing towards her camp. He almost felt sympathy for her. When faced with an inevitable loss, there was bound to be guilt. Should a soldier be fighting the opponent in front of them, or one of those engaged with a comrade? It was the way of the warrior, to assume their choices could make the difference between victory and defeat. The assumption was necessary, but faulty. Soldiers only did as commanded, and the better commander would win the day.

Nabhi lunged forward, and Guarang sprinted away from the doomed woman. With the monster in play, the battle had two fronts, and he was needed where those lines met. The Breathers were versed in human anatomy, but they would need his analytical mind to find the beast’s weaknesses.

There was blood on the wind; Guarang hoped it belonged to his enemies. Breather units didn’t often suffer casualties, but fate had forced them to behave like other, more reckless soldiers. He should assume there would be heavy losses, should be ready to accept his superiors’ wrath if they decided the cost was too high.

The beast was circling back as Guarang reached his comrades. It chose its angle well, opting to stride along the battle line rather than break through it. If it had a brain worth its size, it would rampage through the savage’s side; they’d be much slower to move out of the way.

Before he could finish his thought, the beast charged straight towards him. Monstrous as it was, he supposed it was still a stupid beast.

“Bodhi, are you here?” Guarang called.

“Yes, captain!” His lieutenant sounded distracted.

“Maintain command here, and be ready to assume full control if something happens to me.”

“Yes, captain!”

Guarang rushed to meet the beast’s charge. He didn’t know if he could bring it down by himself, but he was confident he could devise a strategy, or perhaps encourage it to attack his enemies.

Why was it even here? From its size and shape, he’d have guessed it was a grazing beast. Why would a grazer attack without provocation? If that meant it was a predator, how could it eat the prey it trampled? One stomp and all of its meat would be reduced to a puddle of bloody mud.

Were all the beasts in those cursed woods so nonsensical?

The creature lowered its head and brandished its horn at Guarang, but a quick leap to his left and he was clear of danger. Such a clumsy enemy was a poor match for Breathers; it would never catch one without surprising them…

Something plowed into his side, knocking him off his feet. As the shock faded, Guarang wondered how he’d been forced to the ground. The ribs on his right side were broken, making it difficult to breathe. The pain was paralyzing, but he managed to roll onto his back.

Something was perched over him. The sight of it made his skin crawl, and he made a futile attempt to slide out from under it. It pinned him with its stumpy forelegs and stared at him with compound eyes. Before he could scream, a needled proboscis shot out from its head and into Guarang’s chest.

His final scream was a sigh; he felt the needle between his ribs, piercing his heart. The suction began, and Guarang watched in horror as the creature’s abdomen began to swell with his blood. How could this have happened? Why couldn’t the girl just accept her penance, why had she brought him to this awful place? Who had allowed this place to become so awful? Most importantly, why had the Destroyer forsaken this loyal servant?

As he died, he wondered when he’d surrendered all control over his life. Why had he been so convinced this was someone else’s fault?

With a flash of light, Guarang suffered no more.

-CUT-

Hit me, baby, as many times as you can! Tell me whatcha think.

Chapter 9: Bad Example

I know the whole point was to make it short, but I wonder if I've gotten comfortable with too short a format. It can make it hard to show, can make it too easy to tell (nod to +Pat Coffey).

Oh well. With my recent slump, I'll take what progress I can make.  I can fix it later! (Note to self: "I can fix it later!" is a great epitaph)

If you're new here, this is where the series starts. This episode begins here, and this chapter is both here and down there. If you're interested in the world-building pre-narrative nonsense, knock yourself out.

Another note to self: ascertain whether or not Protagonize has guest accounts...


Chapter 9: Bad Example

The tent somehow amplified the tremors; if it didn’t, Inga doubted she’d have noticed them. The dinner fire was always a rowdy occasion, so she was used to strange noises at this hour, but this wasn’t part of the usual cacophony. In fact, it seemed to be killing the sounds of merriment.

Trent, bless him, was too immersed in his work to notice. Were it not for that unshakeable focus, Inga was certain they’d both be rushing to see what was causing the rumbles. At least this way she had time to consider whether or not they needed to know. Unfortunately, time was not yielding much inspiration.

She’d discussed Svara’s enemies with Matron Cascatta, had concluded that the girl had underestimated the time it would take them to traverse the woods. The noise was likely part of their attack. How, though? How could they make good time while travelling with a beast or war machine big enough to make these sounds?

Inga’s thoughts were interrupted as someone breezed through the tent’s flap. The light was too dim to see his face, but Inga was immediately certain this was an intruder. There was no time to think.

“Good evening,” she greeted, hoping to disarm him with courtesy.

“Good evening.” He didn’t sound hostile.

“Are you among those looking for Svara?” Inga asked.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Inga pondered her response. Cascata would want her to send him straight towards Svara - straight for the hunters who guarded her. What if they were wrong about the enemies’ number? Should she really increase the hunters’ burden? “You may confirm, if you like, but she is not in here.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” the stranger was courteous, but there was also regret. “I’ll need you to come with me.”

Ah. This was something Inga hadn’t accounted for; their plan had been made assuming that everyone would be at the dinner fire. Inga hadn’t considered Trent’s obsession with his project, and thereby hadn’t considered the possibility that the two of them would be late. Now they were unguarded, and could be used as hostages.

Had the stranger noticed Trent’s tiny figure, hunched over his work? If not…

Inga groaned as she stood. “Very well. Would you like to lead, or do you need me to show you where to go?”

“Elder.” Trent turned, and Inga’s heart sank. “Where are you going?”

“I need to show this young man-” Inga started.

“No, that’s alright,” the stranger interrupted. “The boy will work better. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not,” Trent denied. “And neither is she.”

“Come, young man,” Inga implored the stranger. “They value me. I will make a sufficient hostage.”

“But you’ve lived a long and full life. The boy’s loss would be a bigger tragedy, and that makes him a better bargain.”

“People are not currency,” Trent declared. “People can’t be bought with currency, either. Finally, we don’t even use currency here. You want Svara? Go talk to her about it. She’s at the dinner fire.”

“What?” The stranger didn’t understand Trent’s logic. “Don’t argue, lad. Get up.”

“Young man, Trent is unusual, I think you’ll find-” Inga tried.”

“Quiet.” The intruder drew his sword. “Boy, come.”

“My name is Trent.”

“I don’t care.” The stranger walked closer. “Stand.”

“No.”

The intruder grabbed Trent by the collar and lifted him off his feet. “I’m not giving you a choice!”

“You don’t have the authority to take choice away from me!” Trent argued.

“This is my authority!” He brought the blade to Trent’s neck.

To both Inga and the stranger’s surprise, Trent swatted the weapon aside. Blood trickled down his arm, but Trent seemed too angry to notice. “Your authority is pathetic!”

Inga almost laughed. Trent was putting himself in mortal danger, but she was still proud of him. The little man had a monster inside him, she’d recognized that from the moment he started speaking. This was a sign of hope, evidence that he’d leashed his beast.

There were a thousand other ways she would have preferred to solve this problem, but Trent wasn’t wrong. This stranger had no right to make demands. Compromise or subversion would be safer, but it was morally just to refuse outright.

The clan hadn’t been first to resort to violence, but that didn’t mean they were incapable. She’d never done this before, and Trent was the last person she’d want to witness it, but she was out of options. Inga approached and placed a gentle fingertip on the back of the man’s neck.

“Please try to forgive me, and know that you are loved,” Inga said.

Purity burst from her finger and through the man’s spine. His light, flame, and spark flashed against the far side of the tent before he crumpled to the floor with a neat, perfectly-circular hole punched into his neck.

Inga reeled. The spell was exhausting, and it was also the first time in this obscenely-long life that she’d killed someone. She staggered backward and fell to the dirt.

“Elder.” Trent seemed mystified and - was it just her? - even a little concerned. “What did you do?”

“Light, child,” she breathed heavily. “Purest energy, loves and lusts, remember? I gave him all I could spare.”

“What’s going on?” Trent looked towards the tent flap as the rumbling intensified. “Nothing like this has happened before.”

“Listen to me, Trent.” Inga clinged to consciousness. “I killed that man. What I did was wrong. You musn’t-”

“I know, Elder,” Trent interrupted. “What do we do now?”

“Trent, please listen,” Inga pleaded. “It was wrong. I shouldn’t have killed him, and you shouldn’t kill anyone either.”

“It was wrong, Elder, but he was more wrong. He wasn’t going to change. Sometimes the best we can do is just less wrong than the alternative. That’s why we hunt. I promise you, Elder, I get it.”

He really has come so far.

“Thank you, lad.” Inga breathed a sigh of relief. “Get to the dinner fire. Don’t let the enemy find you before you find the hunters.”

“You need protection too, Elder.”

“Remember what I taught you about light, Trent.” Inga closed her eyes. “I need to sleep. We use less when we sleep, stockpile more from the wind. I just need to sleep.”

“Elder, if they find you-”

“No.” It was difficult to find the words as she succumbed to fatigue. “I’m old. Fainted. Just a burden…”

“They might just kill you,” Trent suggested. “Their reason is weak.”

“Not worth the effort, trust me. Please, Trent, just go.”

There were some vague, mumbled protests as he struggled to lift her off the ground. He was far too small to carry her very far, but even his clumsy fumblings couldn’t keep her from slipping into unconsciousness.

-CUT-

Interested? Following the plot? Give a damn? I'll make a more coherent survey when I'm feeling more coherent ^_^

Chapter 8: The Motley Flock

May was a struggle. I'm not sure I've recovered yet, but I do think the graph's swinging back up. We'll get there, wherever 'there' is.

I wonder if this is really okay. I mean, it has to be, because there are no true rules for writing. They're there to be broken at fortuitous times. So I guess I wonder if this strategy really breaks the right rules at the right time ^_^.

The series starts here, this episode starts here, and this chapter starts here or down there.


Chapter 8: The Motley Flock

It happened again. They all felt the tremors and heard the rumbling, and every eye looked toward the distant source. Every eye but the tamer patron, Soko’s.

Lyn bit her bottom lip and sank back into Moondancer’s flank. They weren’t agitated yet, but the herd was concerned. Something very big had come out of the forest, and whatever it was, the animals didn’t want it coming any closer. She was safe with the bulk of her family between her and the intruder. It was no threat to her, but she might have preferred it to be. A monster would be much more intimidated by this collection of musks than those of her human siblings.

Soko was unconcerned, however, and the herd would not move unless he told it to. The tone his jug’s sloshing was getting higher, and that meant Soko’s spirits would also rise. If something were to interrupt his drinking, though…

Lyn wanted to check on the dinner fire, but her absence could ruin the herd’s night if Soko noticed. The other tamers would suffer his wrath, and it would be her fault. Besides, what could she do, if the hunters needed help? All of her ideas involved Soko, and he wouldn’t like those ideas unless they came from his own head.

What would the elder say? Lyn expected it would involve trusting her patron. He became the patron because he knew best, right? If he wasn’t worried, then she shouldn’t be.

A few of the animals looked in a new direction, but they seemed more curious than wary. Lyn sat up to follow their gaze: three figures were weaving their way through the resting herd. They moved quickly and silently, but their postures betrayed their fear. Lyn knew they must be strangers, because everyone from the clan knew the herd was family. This trio was treading too lightly to be her siblings.

“Oi there!” Soko called to the strangers, who jumped at the sound. They scanned their surroundings, as if afraid the tamer had sicced his pets on them. “Ya lost, or just lookin’ fer some drinkin’ comp’ny? I hope ya brought yer own, ‘cause I ain’t got enough as it is!”

Soko laughed loud and long, and again Lyn wondered if the patron’s drink was magic. He thought everything hilarious when he drank, and she couldn’t imagine why that might be.

“I think you have plenty of company,” one of the strangers - a woman - observed. “I’ve never seen a collection like this. Any one of these makes the beasts of my land look like puppies. Isn’t it dangerous to keep them together?”

“Ah, nah,” Soko slapped the scaly hide of the beast he was lounging on. “Once they tame, they may’s well be sheep! Sheep tha’ keep th’ wolves away, ha ha!”

Soko laughed and swayed as he stood up. One of the male strangers chuckled. “This is the first shepard I’ve ever met who would want that kind of sheep.”

“Well, yeh can only do so much with wool, y’know?” Soko stumbled closer. “These sheep’re all from out the woods, which got more breed o’ e’ery beastie than ya could ever count. Ferget the tailors n’ the butchers, blacksmiths n’ carpenters n’ all manner o’ craftsmen clamor ta work with ol’ Soko’s sheep!”

“Strange, I was just about to say that most of these look like they were made by blacksmiths,” the woman said. “So much fang and claw…”

“Aye, forged ta survive the darkness, they was.” Soko motioned towards the woods. “Don’t mean they have ta like it, though! We invite ‘em to th’ family, an’ in return, they help us survive just outside the darkness.”

“I wouldn’t have thought they could be tamed,” the last man admitted. “I’m impressed.”

“Aye, whichever ancestor first tried it musta been crazy!” Soko laughed. “Some kind o’ crazy that the rest of us could catch, too. Come, sit, tell me how ya came ta be here!”

The drink really must have been magic; normally, Soko avoided other people, particularly strangers. Perhaps he fancied the woman?

“How gracious,” the woman replied. “Forgive me, but we were actually wondering if you could help us first.”

“Oh, ya need help?” Soko seemed ready to accomodate. “Whatcha need?”

“You see, my young partner here-” the stranger motioned to the younger of her companions. “-fancies a certain young woman in your clan. He’s a little shy, though, so we were hoping we might get someone from inside the clan to introduce him.”

“Ah, eyein’ our goods, are yeh?” Soko wagged his finger playfully. “Better be careful, lad. Our women ain’t th’ submittin’ types. They’ll love ya ‘til they don’t, and when they don’t, they’ll move on. If ya ain’t ready ta accept that, ya best give up now. My sheep may not tame easy, but my family don’t tame at all!”

The strangers all glanced at each other before the woman spoke. “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.”

“Alrigh’,” Soko shrugged. “Le’s get o’er ta the dinner fire an’ see what she thinks, shall we?”

“Ah, kind host,” the woman seemed hesitant. “As you can see, he’s a young one. Plus, we’d hate to interrupt you in your cups. Perhaps we’d all be best-served if we borrowed some of your wards? Like this young girl here?”

Before the woman motioned her way, Lyn wasn’t sure if she’d been noticed. Their attention made her nervous, made her question the authenticity of their request. Now that she thought about it, wasn’t it strange that they came here with that request? Why not someone in the camp?

“Ya want Lyn? Ya want my apprentices?” Soko could barely be heard as he contemplated. He needed time to consider even simple problems when he drank. “He fancies one of our girls, ya say?”

“That’s right,” the woman confirmed. “So we need faces she’d recognize, that she’s comfortable with. After all, we want to make a good impression!”

Lyn’s chest was feeling tighter by the moment. They weren’t being genuine, she was certain now. How could she convince Soko, though? The look on his face was one of disappointment, not suspicion. He wouldn’t respond well if he thought Lyn noticed their ill intentions before him, and as suspicious as these people were, Soko’s anger might be even more dangerous.

“Dinner time!” Soko’s voice boomed, startling every human present. The words themselves weren’t a command; that’s not how tamers tamed. The herd smelled his fury, heard the context in his tone, felt the aggression in his posture. To the beasts, Soko’s word choice was irrelevant. The kill command came from his body language.

Lyn breathed a sigh of relief; Soko hadn’t drunk all his cunning away.

Moondancer darted from behind Lyn to put himself between her and the threat while a man-sized cat lashed out and clamped its jaws on the closest stranger’s thigh. The wound spurted mud and water as well as blood. Lyn knew that a wound was critical when the body began to revert to its elemental ingredients.

The doomed man’s companions cried out and leapt in separate directions with the grace of wind, but it was futile. For every jawful of fangs they could see, there was a claw, talon, or beak encroaching from behind.

The intruders drew their curved blades, but it was like trying to fend off an army with a shaving razor. After a few meager seconds, they were dragged down by the tide of angry beast, and the sounds of their panic gave way to the munching of the meat-eaters.

Soko returned to the lizard he’d been lounging on and uncorked his drink. “There’s jus’ no savin’ some people. Can’t recognize when they shouldn’t take things’t don’t belong ta them…”

Between the distant rumblings and whatever mischief these intruders had attempted, Lyn was certain they were all in danger. Would they try to fool Soko if they had the numbers to cull the herd? Unlikely, but even while she might be safe here, survival was pointless if she was alone. If the others were in danger, and she wanted to share the load. How could she convince Soko to let her go?

She knew the answer: by making it his idea.

“Patron!” She ran towards him. “Are we safe here? Are there more?”

He gave her a scornful, sidelong glance. “Me buzz was already dyin’. Ya don’t wanna be finishin’ it, Lyn.”

“Can you keep me safe, patron?” Lyn tried to seem hysterical. “You have to protect me!”

“Get outta my sight,” he growled.

It was exactly what she needed. Manipulating Soko was always a risky thing, but it was easier when he was drunk. A few more swigs and he’d forget she’d ever been there. There was little chance he’d interpret this as a challenge to his authority, so she should be safe from his wrath.

She clicked her tongue as she ran past Moondancer, who grunted and rose to follow her. Lyn was no warrior, and she didn’t know how she could help when she couldn’t fight, but she supposed it wasn’t about that. This was about being there. This had never happened to the clan, not while she’d been part of it. Come victory or defeat, they should face it together.

-CUT-

Some questions:

A.) Remember Soko, Lyn, and Moondancer? If ya didn't, did you feel lost in this chapter?

B.) Remember what the Breathers are doing there? Remember their strategy? I ask because this is the real question: do you have a grasp on what's happening in this chapter, and why it's happening?