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Kalon
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Chapter Eleven: Ona
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Beneath the planet's surface, Naro City, Mines, Upper Reaches
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All eyes dance in the dim flickering flames, most look outwards, wary of the shadows. Mine look to the gaunt man, who stares at the blade in Nekam’s hand, a smile wraps his lips that turns to a snarl. Madness has begun to dig deeper into him.
“You threaten me with the blade.” The man cackles, then yells abruptly “Do I look afraid?”
Nekam says nothing as he moves it slowly closer to the man, leveling it with him.
The man’s expressions shift and warp rapidly, his eyes flicker bright then dull. Uncontrollable shrieks come from him. The shadowy lines that ebb on his skin are thicker and more full now. They dance with spindles of red.
“There… hush I am speaking… no, no, no… tell him yourself.” The gaunt man begins, then looking at Nekam fully, he yells once more “There… there… there!”
He is screaming now, pointing towards a tunnel to our right. There is a word carved into the stone above it in the old tongue, Ona… empty. Sometimes this can be a trick from other tribes. Wanting to keep the riches for themselves. This is why having one close to the changing is common practice for some clans. Such a life is one filled with cruelty, being kept on the edge of life and death. Often it ends with many deaths for those that keep them.
Nekam seems satisfied with this answer and steps forward to the man.
“Release us… me.” The gaunt man says, pulling his head back with a grin and then a frown.
“I intend to.” Nekam says, and with a single swift motion, he stabs deep into the man’s chest “Go in peace.”
Nekam twists the blade, as he must. Normal wounds are not fatal to the changed. Red blood sprays from the wound, there is no anger in the man’s eyes when he approaches the end. His red eyes look at me, a smile wraps his mouth, then there is confusion, and then… nothing. Dekarn and Yuri drop him to the ground. A dull thud and he is dead. The lines of red begin to fade, the ebbing darkness recedes soon after.
His eyes haunt me now, even as they glass over. If I had not brought him here, he would still be alive. Such a life though, many think ending it to be a mercy. It is strange to think that in the moment that we die, we are dead. I often wonder what follows after, if I am to believe my people’s teachings, then we find peace at last. Looking at the lifeless eyes of the gaunt man, I wonder if he has found peace.
I did not know him, but his plight, it is one we all see too often. I do not think he knew peace in life, judging from the deep scars across his arms, he struggled for a lifetime… and for what? To die by the hand of a stranger, with no one to mourn his passing. It is the way of our existence, or so we are made to believe, but the words of the Sage told me of another way. One where people need not suffer pointlessly. He told me of worlds filled with trees that give the sweetest of flavors, sweetness… I do not even know the meaning of it. I have only tasted bitterness, sweat and blood.
Looking around at the others now. No one speaks against what has happened. They all know that someone that far gone cannot come back from the changes. The next phase of the changing is the worst. Sparing him from it we are taught is a mercy.
His body is left where it lies, the creatures will take it for them. Were he not Ulima, forsaken, perhaps they would carry him to the pyre to be made ash. But they will not waste the resources. Such is the fate of Ulima. Forsaken in life and death.
Nekam wipes his blade. Many in the crowd of three hundred kiss the pendant of Hempki’s hammer and whisper prayers to their god. He does not. Nor does he etch a mark on his blade.
My jaw flexes as I kneel down to the lifeless body of the gaunt man. To become the food of the creatures, the Shulka as we know them. Does he deserve such a thing? What was his crime that he should be desecrated and swell the bellies of corrupted things. My hands move over to his, looking him over, I see no markings that say he is a thief, none that say he has committed any crimes. His only crime must have been, not being useful enough for someone to feed him. So to feed himself, he must have given his Maka. Which in turn led him to this. My jaw flexes as my teeth grind. I am mad, though I do not fully understand why. I did not know him, I did not even ask his name. Is this all that we are? Can we not be more? Must we all suffer, or do we make ourselves suffer so?
The words of the Sage fill my mind as I begin to collect stones from the ground around me. Piling them around the gaunt man whose name I will never know. Shame fills me for not trying to help him, battling against the senses of self preservation I have forged in a lifetime of strife. Shame fills me for not even learning his name. A simple kindness, yet I did not even give him this.
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I hear a sigh behind me before Arrum kneels next to me, pushing the dust and stone against the mans body. He does not speak against me doing it. We know it is folly, the creatures will dig him out as soon as our light leaves it. Yet, it is the act that defines it. A last showing of respect for the deceased that we give, when others will not. Nevari kneels next to me now, though she does not help Arrum and I, her hand on my shoulder brings some comfort. I know this makes me look weak to the others, Kuwathi are not supposed to mourn the dead, we do not cry, we are not meant to dull our blades with feelings. This small shame though, I will bear it for this nameless man, even if it is folly. At least someone showed they cared in the end. This is all we can hope for as Ulima.
“Those of you from all tribes that are still wounded from fighting will focus on recovery. Dekarn’s tribe, those of you who are fresh will go with your leader.” Nekam says. The other tribe leaders stand with him, nodding in agreement.
Nekam points towards another tunnel that has a strange marking. One I have seen before. Three circles, in the shape of a triangle. It is the same symbol that the Sage used to wear on a pendant. A religious symbol. One signifying the three mothers. It is strange to see it here, but I do not dwell on it long. Dekarn and his tribe move to the tunnel, disappearing into its depths. The gaunt man is covered now, if only for a brief time until the creatures lay claim to him. It is all that I can give him besides hollow prayers to gods I do not believe in. Arrum grabs my shoulder now, nodding to me. Both of us rise as Nekam begins to speak again.
“Yuri’s tribe will work on opening this tunnel and removing the markings,” Nekam says while pointing to the tunnel marked death.
Yuri leads his tribe to it, they begin prying off the metal sheets and chiseling out the words.
“My tribe will work on setting up camp in that tunnel,” Nekam says, pointing towards the tunnel marked empty.
He gives no other instruction. My mind is filled with questions. Why are we really here? What is the plan? How will we solve the issue of Barnak’s wrath? As soon as we leave the depths we will be slain by their energy weapons. If we stay in the depths we will lose numbers slowly to the creatures and starvation. We cannot linger here. Judging by our supplies we have enough for four days, maybe six if we heavily ration it. So much of what Nekam has done appears foolish and yet… as I look at him, he looks calm and collected. How can he be so calm? Surely he realizes we are at a disadvantage now.
These thoughts though many, are at the back of my mind. I worry more about the quiet creatures whom I know watch us, waiting for us to become easy prey. Because of this, we do not separate ourselves too much. Those who venture alone never return.
***
Minutes turn to hours, there is almost no sense of time or direction in the depths. We are still on the upper reaches. In the lower, where the heat is sweltering and the creatures number more, it would be worse. The Netherium is more abundant there, making it hard for most to breathe.
“Did you hear that?” Nevari asks, her eyes looking towards the dark expanse of the tunnel beyond where we make camp.
Neither Arrum nor I answer as we too peer into the shadows. After a few more moments we return to our task. Placing the lantern a little further away, to give us warning if something comes.
There are grumbling voices amongst some of the tribe, though none so loud they will speak against the chief. Some blame him for us being here. If he had not pressed Barnak so deeply, we would not have to hide. We would not have to risk ourselves down here.
“There it is again,” Nevari says, Arrum nods in agreement, gripping his blade tightly.
My eyes squint into the darkness, but they glean nothing. Again, we scoot the lantern a little further. The groups around us grip their own lanterns, wanting to light them against the chief’s orders. They do not, for they know if we run out of fuel down here… we are surely dead.
When we finish making camp and sealing the tunnel beyond it, we move back to the massive chamber, following the footprints in the dust. Occasionally seeing tracks from the Shriekers and Lurkers. We do not see any signs from the Carvers. It is rare to see them this far up from the depths. The lack of their tracks makes many give praise to Hempki and other gods.
The Dekarn tribe still has not returned from Nekam’s mission. So the three of us, Nevari, Arrum, and me move to help Yuri’s tribe. They have removed all traces of the markings for death. Strangely they have gone back over it, trying to remove the fresh markings and masking it. As though they do not want anyone to see that it has changed recently. But why?
They are deep in the tunnels, removing even the smallest proof that they were there. When we ask if anyone knows why we do this, they also are clueless. There is worry amongst Yuri’s tribe, more so than our own. They do not know Nekam as well as us. So they fear more than us that his path may lead to death.
When Yuri is satisfied with the work, he calls Nekam to inspect. His eyes travel through the tunnel slowly checking the work. It takes him an hour to be satisfied with the small changes. By then, the sound of the Dekarn tribe returning draws everyone’s attention. With them, they carry fur-wrapped bundles. The contents are heavy as they thud upon the ground.
Nekam walks around in the center of the circle now, opening the bundles. There are whispers in the group as I try to get closer to see. Spears, bows, and shields. Arrows in fur quivers, numbering thousands. Slings and throwing knives. I have never seen a weapon cache like this.
“Take your fill.” Nekam says loudly to the group “You will have need of them in the days to come.”
There is a rush in the group after a few moments of pause. People pushing to get their pick. Arrum and I stand near the back, watching what people choose. The bows are the first to go, then the shields and spears. The murmuring echoes in the cavern, drowning out the screeching from the creatures in the shadows.
“My chief, why have you taken us here?” A voice says from the crowd. Nekam’s eyes level with them, causing them to look away, bowing their head.
“We have come here for one reason,” Nekam says.
The group falls silent, waiting for an explanation.
“To wait for our moment.” Nekam finishes.
Wait for our moment? My eyes look around at the other faces that dance in the lantern light. They too are confused.
“What of our families?” another voice asks.
“They are safe.” Nekam explains, turning his gaze to the asker “Soon you will understand all. For now, you must trust me.”
Jaws tense at his words, asking for trust without explanation. He asks much, but he is known to be wise. Our allied tribes have done well since joining us. We all feel that something bigger is at play. Now, feeling the weight of the weapons in our hands, we know war comes. But from where? And when?