Black Halo

‘Of course.’ He turned his stare back toward his fellow male. ‘But it is not as though there is a shortage of overscum in this world. We will use what we have to ruin their city and eliminate the need for this useless chatter or for useless females. The three of us. Burn them out. Burn them up. The problem is solved.’

Dech snorted. ‘What would be the point in just burning them, though?’

‘That’s what I was beginning to illuminate,’ Yldus replied. ‘The specifics simply have to be—’

‘Specifics?’ Dech frowned deeply. ‘You have a city full of pinkies. Stomp their faces in, cut their heads off, and if you want to get really specific, rip their arms out of their sockets and stab them in their throats with them.’

‘Stab them,’ Yldus repeated, ‘in the throat.’

‘With their arms, yeah.’

A silence settled over the assembly. Yldus stared at the Carnassial for a very long, unblinking moment before pursing his lips together and taking a deep breath through his nose.

‘At any rate,’ he continued, clearly biting back words far more suited to his mood, ‘burning will not work. The considerable resources that such a plan would utilise aside, our goal is not actually to burn as many overscum as possible, you will recall.’

‘Right,’ Qaine chuckled blackly. ‘Just a bonus.’

‘Rather,’ Yldus continued, shooting her a scowl, ‘I am hoping to minimise the amount of casualties needed, at least as far as our forces are concerned. Every female we lose in this battle will be a female we will not have for further conflicts. Hence, I will need more to attack the city.’

‘I don’t follow,’ Dech grunted.

‘Really.’ Yldus rolled his eyes. ‘The logic is simple. The overscum has a sizable presence. Not enough to hold my current force back, of course, but enough to take a toll that would make future conflicts with the underscum more of a difficulty than they need be.’

‘You have been given three venri to use,’ Xhai growled curtly. ‘More than enough for any true warrior.’

‘Females are warriors,’ Yldus countered. ‘I am not. And if we hope to have any warriors to fight the underscum with—’

‘The underscum are yet to be a problem.’

‘Really?’ Vashnear eyed her, noting the mass of thick purple tissue near her collarbone. ‘How did you get that mark again, unscarred? Or are we still able to call you that?’

‘This was given to me,’ she snarled, thumping the scar, ‘from no black-skinned, slime-spewing piece of krazhak.’

‘From the overscum you reported, then?’ Vashnear asked, smirking. ‘Perhaps you should have kept that to yourself, no?’

‘I have plans for that,’ she uttered, rubbing the scar with an intensity that went far beyond grudge-filled memory.

‘Could we perhaps get back to my plans?’ Yldus asked. ‘You know, the important ones?’

‘Proceed.’

Yldus shuddered slightly at Black-clad’s voice, gritting his teeth before continuing.

‘We …’ He paused to inhale. ‘We are in agreement that the overscum city must be sacked, yes? The relic must be procured. Our allies demand it. However, our knowledge on the subject’s location is as delicate as our allies’ patience is. We lack the time to spend sifting through ashes. Hence, burning is not an option.’ He glanced toward Xhai. ‘Neither is failure. To that end, it would be easier to crush them in one overwhelming force, rather than bleeding them, and our forces, over a longer period.’

‘And what are you asking for, exactly?’ Xhai asked. ‘How many more venri?’

‘One.’

‘One?’

‘The First.’

At this, a collective inhale of breath, a collective call to objection and insult, coursed through the longfaces. Naxiaw saw that even Black-clad’s head tilted slightly at the mention.

‘Unnecessary,’ Qaine growled. ‘I’m going with the invasion. One Carnassial is more than enough to kill a bunch of pinkies.’

‘Stupid,’ Dech snarled. ‘Those stupid high-fingers get all the fighting already. Why give them more?’

‘Weak,’ Vashnear scoffed. ‘The First are there to break backs and crush heads only when the backs are too stiff and the heads too high. And you think you need them to take a single … whatever it is you are seeking?’

‘No,’ Xhai uttered. ‘The First cannot be commanded by you. They answer only to the Master, only to—’

‘Yes.’

Of all the eyes that swept toward Black-clad, Xhai’s were the widest, lingered the longest, boiled with the most anger. Though she doubtlessly desired to erupt in a violent torrent of her grating, snarling language, she kept her voice low, language clear and neck so rigid it appeared as though her spine had turned to iron.

‘He doesn’t have the authority to command the First,’ she whispered harshly. ‘It undercuts you, makes you look …’ She clenched her teeth together. ‘I already told him—’

‘Leave.’

She recoiled, to Naxiaw’s surprise, with a look of shock. He hadn’t thought any of the longfaces capable of any expression beyond varying degrees of anger. Thus, it was with particular interest that he watched her face melt slightly, whatever force holding her visage so taut snapping and sloughing off to reveal a look of parted lips, quivering eyes.

He certainly hadn’t thought that any longface could look so hurt, least of all this one.

‘As you wish,’ Yldus replied. ‘We will depart swiftly and return all the more quickly for it.’

Slowly, one by one, they began to dissipate from the ridge. Yldus strode as tall as he could beside Qaine. Vashnear skulked with Dech following reluctantly. Xhai was the last to leave and took the longest, stopping to turn and look behind with each step.

But she, too, left, as did they all, without so much as looking at Naxiaw, leaving the shict and the black-draped longface alone.

And no sooner did they than Naxiaw made ready to leave, as well. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, prepared to withdraw into his mind, to touch the Howling and send out his panicked warnings, his fevered shouts to his kin.

Longfaces coming, his thoughts ran like terrified deer. Poison soon. Let them all die together, purple and pink alike. Kill the human evolution before it begins again. Cleanse all diseases.

A good list, he thought, one he would eagerly relay once he vanished into sounds without meaning, once he reached his people, once they heard—

‘Not answering, are they?’

He felt cold, the words echoing through his ribs to clench at his heart. Black-clad’s face had not turned, yet there was no doubt who he spoke to.

‘You’re shocked,’ the longface said, chuckling softly. ‘Your kind typically is. Overscum, that is. I like that about you, though.’ He made a long gesture over the valley. ‘Everything with netherlings is always a foregone conclusion. When they’re born, they know what they’re going to do. Males use nethra to lead the females, who use iron to kill each other. Low-fingers use bows, high-fingers use swords, bridge-fingers become Carnassials. Those with black hair die; those with white hair kill. It’s so …’

His sigh drained the air from the sky, left Naxiaw breathless, helpless, staring in astonished silence.

‘And what’s more,’ Black-clad continued. ‘They don’t just know what it is they do, they love doing it. Males love leading, females love killing, none of them knowing they could do something different. But these … humans, if you’ll pardon the mention of their race, these are fascinating creatures. They never know what’s going to happen, the females, especially. And when they find out …’

Naxiaw felt the longface’s smile, even without seeing it. He could feel the stretch of lips, the baring of teeth, the long, slow drag of a long pink tongue across them.

‘Really, I’m surprised you don’t think more of the females. You seem to be of similar mindsets: both always thinking about killing, both always thinking about death. Though you don’t think of it as death. You think yourself to have medicine, to cure.’ His fingers drummed. ‘Lying … we’ve never had reason to, what with everyone knowing everything about themselves and each other. What a fascinating creation.’

Naxiaw opened his mouth, urged his voice into his throat even as it fought to stay down, stay hidden from this creature, to avoid matching itself against his sounds full of meaning. Before the shict could even squeak, though, Black-clad continued.

‘No, I can’t read your thoughts. Not the ones you keep to yourself, anyway. But whenever you bow your head and start thinking … well, it’s so loud, I can hardly hear anything else. Even then, I can’t garner much besides some general information, bits and pieces, mostly. I know you hate us, but that’s hardly surprising, what with you being our prisoner and all. I know you’re looking to kill … apologies, “cure” the humans, but who isn’t? And I know you can understand me, even if you never speak.’

Naxiaw felt his eyelids begging him to blink, his breath begging him to suck in more, but he had the wits to do neither.

‘No, I don’t particularly care, really. You want to kill them, kill Yldus and Vashnear, kill Xhai … kill me, even. I could put an end to that right now, you know. But then, that would be just one more foregone conclusion, wouldn’t it? I rather like the idea of something new and interesting happening if I let you live. If you kill a few females, that’s fine. I have more than enough to spare. Will you kill me, though?’

He chuckled again.

‘I’d really like to see if you could come close, actually. Everything I learn about you … you people and your bright red sun fascinate me. Your lying, your railing against truth, fighting against what you know. I must know more … Perhaps you’ll tell me eventually?’

Naxiaw had not the voice to reply.

‘Eventually, of course. For the moment, I’m not interested in much else … except that voice. You heard it, too, didn’t you? Whining, whimpering, and then … screaming. What was that, anyway? One of your people? But not one you were trying to reach … I can sense that much. But it was trying to reach you, even if it didn’t know it. How curious it was, though. So lost, so alone, so blind. I can’t know if you can tell or not, but I, for my opinion, think it sounded strange, unique … female.’

The words rolled off his tongue like a dagger, hanging in the air, its echo the smooth and relentless edge that pierced Naxiaw’s heart. Was the voice, that lost and whimpering voice, a female? He could not know. But it was a shict, this was fact, and it was a shict he must warn. But how? If he could not use the Howling without this longface knowing, what would he do?

‘It is a confusing dilemma, isn’t it?’ Black-clad asked. Slowly, he turned to face the shict, his grin broad and white. ‘I might have an answer, though. This thing you use, your loud thoughts. It can’t be too hard for me to figure out. Why don’t you just relax …’

Naxiaw swallowed hard as he met the longface’s eyes, bright crimson and burning like pyres.

‘And let me have a look inside?’

Something reached out, slid past Naxiaw’s brow and into his brain. He threw his head back, pricked his ears up. In a word without sound, a noise without speech, he let out a long, meaningless scream.

Twenty-One

THE KING OF TEJI

‘She did it again.’

The voice came subtly this time, without cold fingers of rime. It came this time as soft as snow falling on his brow, accumulating and growing heavier.

‘She thinks you don’t see her.’

Growing impossible to ignore.

‘Thinks we don’t see her.’

Still, Lenk tried.

He focused on other distractions in the hut: the oppressive moisture of sweat sliding down his body, the stale breath of the still and humid air filtered through the roof of dried reeds, the sounds of buzzings, chirpings, the rustling of leaves.

And her.

He could feel her, too, just as easily as the sweat. He could feel her body trembling with each shallow breath, feel her eyes occasionally glancing to him, hear her voice bristling behind her teeth, ready to say something. He could feel the brief space of earth between them. When her hand twitched, he felt the dirt shift beneath his palm. When his fingers drummed, he knew she could feel the resonance in hers.

He felt her as he sat, felt her smile as easily as he felt his own creeping across his face.

‘She isn’t smiling.’

He furrowed his brow suddenly, resisting the urge to speak to the voice, to even acknowledge it. Try as he did, though, he couldn’t stop the thought from boiling up in his head.

She isn’t?

‘Look.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her for the first time since they had entered the hut. She was not smiling, not even looking at him. Her stare was tilted up to the roof, along with her ears, rigid and twitching with the same delicate, wary searching that he had seen before, once.

But she had been looking at him, then.

‘She listens.’

That makes sense. He was distantly aware of a voice in the room. Someone else is talking.

‘Not to them.’

Why wouldn’t she be listening to them?

‘You aren’t.’

Point.

‘Watch carefully. She searches for something that you can’t hear.’

But you can …

‘Only fragments of … wait, she is going to hear it again.’

As if she had heard the voice herself, she suddenly stiffened, her chin jerking. Her neck twisted, face looking out somewhere, through the stone walls and beneath the soil. He followed her stare, but whatever it was that she saw, he obviously could not.