Chapter 12
MOHLAD
The interior of the humans’ wrecked ship is dimly lit by the light that penetrates from outside. There are trails of sand leading inside. I hold my lochaber loosely at my side, ready to use it at the first sign of trouble.
I remain in a crouch as I stalk forward, every sense straining for signs of trouble. Suspicions fill my thoughts of who and what I might be facing, though it doesn’t seem real. If it is, I must warn my brothers. Shukach and Nyanna found an Order outpost which was concerning but this… if I am right it will be much, much worse.
Tajss provides.
I know this is true. But it doesn’t mean that the paths we must walk are easy or without trials. It doesn’t mean that things don’t go wrong. The Devastation is proof enough of that for anyone.
The trails of sand do not go far inside the ship leaving me no clue where the ones who made it might be. This is a massive space with too many places to hide. Crouching a few feet in and to the left of the rip in the wall I close my eyes and let my other senses explore.
Moments pass while I wait, listening and extending my awareness using a technique of the Order. I don’t hear anything specific but I know which direction to go. Opening my eyes and rising I head in that direction, carefully picking each step before I take it to avoid making noise.
I would expect the interior to be covered with debris. This portion of the human ship did crash into the planet after all, but there is surprisingly little. This is further cause for suspicion.
I can’t keep from worrying about Margaret outside alone, but there is nothing I can do about that right now except trust in Tajss to keep her safe. She is smart and will run if there is danger.
I make my way through what seems to have been a long hall. The darkness is near absolute. Even my sight, which is fantastic even in the dark is having trouble making out the details. There is no source of light this far in except what little reaches from the tear.
Something crashes followed by a deep guttural sound. I freeze in place, knees bent, lochaber ready. The guttural sounds continue and then there is the unmistakable sound of a whip cracking and a cry of pain.
Anger surges but I push that down and aside. It has no place in this moment, but that cry sounded too much like Margaret’s voice. Could it be a human? If that is so could it be more humans survivors? But, then who is wielding the whip? Why would humans be whipping their own?
There is the sounds of movement and shuffling while something is dragged, a metal on metal sound. I move to the closest wall then make my way forward. I come to a corner and when I look around it there is light coming out of a door a short way down this new hall. I don’t see any bodies, but the sounds are coming from there.
Silently I slip around the corner, staying as close to the wall as I can, and make my way to that opening. The sounds inside become clearer as I do.
“Uhphh,” the voice that sounds like Margaret groans.
It sounds like discomfort or pain. If that is a human… rage comes fast and with it the bijass surges. It’s primal and instantaneous. A growl slips out. The guttural language says something then footsteps approach.
I tighten my grip on the lochaber, raising it over my head, ready to thrust. The light grows brighter. I narrow my eyes and close my protective lenses to keep it from impairing my sight. Shadows dance as the figure comes to the door.
The large dark shadowy shape emerges from the door. It’s too big for a human so I strike without hesitation, impaling the thing on the blade of my lochaber. Its only sound is a soft squeak and a hiss as breath leaves its body for the final time.
I pull back, bringing it out of the doorway and grabbing it in one hand so I can lower it to the ground as quietly as possible. I wait, listening, but there isn’t a sound for a long moment then I hear a muffled whimper.
The red fog of the bijass covers most of my thoughts. It is as if I’m drowning in it. It has not been this strong in many long years, but that voice, sounding so much like Margaret, has given it fuel.
I wait, predatory, wanting the enemy to come to me but nothing happens. The bijass demands that I am the alpha. Nothing can best me, not when it comes to protecting my treasure. It throws caution and tactics to the wind. Strength, power, and dominating is all the bijass knows.
Acting on its base instinct I leap, landing in the doorway. Inside the room is lit by two bright powered lights and I see my prey clearly for the first time. I see them and one other thing. A human female. She is gaunt, haggard looking, and her eyes are wide with fear.
I roar my rage and whirl the lochaber.
My enemies are taken aback by the ferocity of my attack, stumbling backwards as they grab for weapons.
Lowering my head, horns forward, I barrel into the biggest of the two. This one has multiple arms and poses the biggest threat. Dimly I know I know what this creature is, but rational thoughts such as that are not clear. Right now there is only the instinct to dominate.
I drive my shoulder low into its stomach and hear the satisfying whoosh as its breath is knocked out.
Multiple arms grab on as I continue my forward momentum. I raise my head in a violent motion, my horns digging into its flesh. Blood pours out of the opening, covering my head, temporarily blinding me.
The rush ahead stops with a hard impact into the far wall. The monster screams and I roar in response as it pounds onto my back with its multiple arms.
It’s painful but that is nothing. Pain is outside the red fog that fills my head. I pummel the creature with my fists. Driving them in over and over. I feel the satisfying crunch of bones breaking under my relentless assault.
Something sharp hits my side. The pain is instant. Though the bijass shields me from the full sensation, it does cause me to pull back.
The other creature has stabbed me in the side with a sword. It has black tentacle looking things for hair that dance as it opens its maw and screeches. It has orange, leathery skin and beady dark eyes that widen when I grab the blade sticking out of my right side.
I get my hand onto his and jerk the blade free. I roar as it slides free. I ball my free hand into a fist and punch the monster in the face with all the strength I have. The front of its face caves in and the thing drops to the ground.
As I turn to finish the other one a fist slams into the side of my head. I stumble back, momentarily stunned and unable to see clearly. The thing stalks forward speaking in the same guttural language I heard earlier.
It slams two of its six fists into the opposite arm’s open hands, rolls its shoulders, and stalks me. I move back, gaining space. We circle each other, looking for an opening. I growl in anger and frustration. This is taking too long. I do not know if my treasure is safe or if there are more of these monsters outside.
Knowing I do not have time I don’t wait. I rush the monster. I take several hits as I come in including one that lands right on top of the wound I just took.
Stars flash in my head and I cannot see but I feel him in my arms. We wrestle, struggling to gain control of one or the other.
It strikes with jarring force over and over. One hit to the side of my head and I drop to my knees, head spinning. I look up into its tattooed blue face. It has dead eyes. No soul in them, not even anger or any other visible emotion.
Something about that emptiness fuels my rage. This monster will not best me. Margaret waits for me. I will save her.
I’ve got one hand on the floor, supporting myself. I ball it into a fist and swing it with all that I have. My fist comes up, hitting just under the things wide, nasty grin. The jaw shatters. Blood flows from its mouth and nose, splatters of it flinging through the air as it falls back. It stumbles, arms flailing, then it drops to the ground with a final shudder.
Forcing myself to my feet I stumble over and make sure that it is well and truly dead. I kick it and nothing.
Satisfied I raise my head and roar in triumph. Surveying my victory the bijass retreats and as it goes the pain comes in its wake. I stumble, pressing one hand to my side. When I raise that hand blood coats it. I keep pressure on it and then turn to find the human.
The poor female is huddled in a corner, arms over her head, shivering in fear. I approach, slowly, trying to not scare her further.
“Come, help,” I say in the human tongue. She whimpers, not bothering to look out from behind her arms. “Come.”
I repeat, motioning for her to follow. She peeks out from behind her shield of flesh, eyes uncertain. She darts a glance at her former captors. Suddenly her eyes widen and she snarls. She leaps to her feet, rushing over to the bigger one and she kicks him while wildly screaming the entire time.
I let her take her rage out though the world is getting a little gray. She needs this. I will get her outside where Margaret will be able to take care of her. I need stitches, badly, and am not going to be able to remain conscious much longer if I keep losing blood.
“Come,” I say again. “Now, come.”
She turns and looks from me to the dead alien on the floor. She spits on it then turns and comes over towards me. I take a tentative step backward and she follows. I back out of the door then turn around to walk back out.
The world tilts and I have to grab the wall to remain upright. The female whimpers from behind. I glance over my shoulder and give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. The fear on her face is so clearly written that a blind person could see it. While I am concerned for this human, my worry for Margaret overrides that.
“Follow,” I say.
I make my way back out of the ship and as I emerge into the bright suns of Tajss, their warmth on my scales helps to push away the encroaching darkness. Margaret is where I left her, astride the guster, waiting.
The sand outside the opening is soft and I sink in. I try to walk forward, wanting to run to her, but I stumble and then the world is black.