Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 25

A blast of cold water washed over the naked bodies of Zhair'lo and Zia, whisking away the sweat and fluids from their respective sexual encounters.

"Today's the day," Zia overflowed with eagerness as she soaped up his body. "I hope they let us come."

For once, Zhair'lo didn't have to hide his feelings. He was just as eager as the rest of the Recruits showering around him to meet these barbarians, if not for exactly the same reasons.

He couldn't care less whether this 'Chet' lived or died. People who beat up recently pregnant women weren't any allies of his. But what of Berel? If the rest of the barbarians were like him, could they be the allies Zhair'lo wanted? Could they be the enemies the Temple feared?

Whoever they were, they didn't sound like a large group, nor particularly well organized, but they might know others. Zhair'lo was on the scent of something and he was as eager as any hound.

"I'm going to get an extra lecture, I bet," Zhair'lo said, returning the favour and running soapy hands over Zia's back.

"On the subject of not using your weapon?"

"Aye."

Zhair'lo planned to follow that rule to perfection today. He wanted to meet these people, not kill them. He could only hope that they would surrender quickly enough that most of them would be spared. It wouldn't be easy to find a way to talk to them, but he was prepared to act on any opportunity.

'And the more they capture, the better my chances of getting one of them alone.'

His thoughts were interrupted when he was doused in a second blast of cold water. Zia had decided that they were done with the shower, which had more to do with her enthusiasm about getting to breakfast.

"Come on. Come on, you idiots," she urged the less enthused Recruits. "Briefing!"

Everyone knew about the upcoming briefing, which had been promised at breakfast, but none had the childlike giddiness that had Zia whipping her clothes back on without even bothering to towel herself off.

Feeling somewhat obliged to keep up with Zia, by way of having paired with her in the showers, Zhair'lo dressed as quickly as he could - though he at least dried himself off wherever leather would be touching his skin.

"Come on, already," Zia taunted him, taking over the lacing of his leather top.

As much as she might want to head off to the mess for breakfast, she didn't want to go alone. The moment she had tied up his leathers, she grabbed Zhair'lo's hand and pulled him out of the showers.

"I don't think they'll start yet," Zhair'lo pointed out.

"I'm not missing this," Zia waved him off with her free hand.

She only released her grip when they passed through the doors into the mess. They snatched up trays of scrambled eggs and ham from the ledge between the dining room and the kitchen before finding seats at the otherwise empty table reserved for the Recruits.

"You know what these things are like?" Zhair'lo gestured toward the small dais from where, presumably, the briefing would be lead.

"Basically," Zia shrugged. "They'll tell us what they've found and who gets to go."

Zhair'lo considered her word choice: 'gets' to go.

As many times as she'd Served him, Zhair'lo had never gotten used to Zia's blood lust. His goal was to avoid getting killed while bringing down the Temple. He accepted the existence of risks in a task of that magnitude. Combat, however, was something to be avoided until it was necessary. For Zia combat was the whole point. She accepted the risk because the adrenaline rush was the purpose of her life.

Bree and Renzi filed in to the mess next, followed by the rest of the Recruits. None of them were as eager as Zia, but their eyes were all alight. Even, Del, the pragmatic one, seemed to have developed an icy glare.

It wasn't long after the last of the Recruits sat down that the doors opened once more.

"Attention!"

Whipped well into shape, Zhair'lo and his comrades were on their feet as quickly as any of the veterans.

Walking through the doors, down the centre aisle of the large mess hall, was a man that Zhair'lo could only describe as "grizzled". There was a hardness in his eyes and a toughness to his skin that made Zhair'lo feel, if only for a moment, that this man could go into battle without bothering to put on armour. In that instant, it seemed as if his flesh was simply too thick to yield to a blade.

On the man's chest, Zhair'lo saw the rank insignia: two horizontal black bars with a black star between them.

'Master Kendrick,' he realized suddenly, as if it hadn't been obvious.

Arriving at the dais, Kendrick turned to face the assembled crowd and used one hand to brush his short hair back over his right ear. It was not a gentle gesture.

"Be seated," the left side of his mouth curled as he spoke.

Swiftly, quietly, they sat.

If the idea of fighting the women of the Temple in some kind of frontal assault had frightened Zhair'lo, combat with this man absolutely terrified him.

'He's killed people,' Zhair'lo's eyes went wide as he stared at the Master Fighter. 'He's killed a lot of people.'

"Yesterday, we had an incident," Kendrick's voice was hard and quiet all at once, and it rolled with a brogue Zhair'lo associated with the people of the far north.

"Ji'ann's and Yung's squad discovered a brutally beaten woman, her infant child and a man she called her brother. Under interrogation, we have determined the truth of her story and intend to eliminate anyone who was involved in harming her."

"To that end we'll be sending four squads, along with our new Recruits, to complete this assignment."

"These barbarians have wandered too close to our city," Kendrick waved a finger of warning. "The women of this tribe are unlikely to fight and will be welcomed into the city and become the responsibility of the Temple. Any men who aren't killed will be given the choice of joining us or dying."

Zhair'lo got the chilling feeling, from the casual way Kendrick gave these last instructions, that they'd been spoken, word for word, many times before.

The dark eyed master Fighter suddenly stood up taller, pushing his shoulders back even farther than usual.

"Barbarians are at your gates!"

A roar came back from the veteran Fighters.

"Stand on the wall! Or the City falls!"

Master Kendrick turned to his side and nodded to Ji'ann before stepping off the dais and taking a spot against the left side wall. It was a mark of the man's presence that Zhair'lo hadn't noticed there were four people arrayed behind him on the dais. Ji'ann and Sergeant Yung took up the left side of the stage, while a pair of rangers, one of each gender, took up the right side.

Zhair'lo had never noticed before that Ji'ann wore the Black Star badge of a Chief, one rank above Sergeant Yung.

"The Rangers will give details in a moment," her voice rolled over them. "What we have, as far as we know, is a small village of about sixty people. One of them, whom we imagine to be the village chief, will be killed on sight. We anticipate the rest will surrender immediately thereafter, but we will not hesitate to strike down anyone who shows any belligerence. The strike will be timed for the early afternoon, so we have the advantage of sunlight."

Ji'ann looked around the room.

"My squad, Sergeant Yung's, Chief Malak's and Sergeant Kelli's squads have been selected. We will be taking the Recruits with us, so let's all set a proper example for them."

Anywhere else, this might have been a joke, but no one laughed. Zhair'lo had a strong suspicion it wasn't a joke.

"Hera?"

"Chief," the blonde haired female ranger acknowledged.

Zhair'lo couldn't be sure of this woman's rank.

Hera's badge was a single green Chevron, which could mean anything. White chevrons, numbering one, two or three, marked the ranks of soldiery. A black chevron was the mark of a Sergeant. Where did the rangers factor in this lot?

As the ranger woman took the centre of the stage, what struck Zhair'lo more than the lightness of her hair was the power of her eyes. They were sharp and grey, the eyes of an eagle perpetually on the hunt. It wouldn't surprise him, based on that and the high, sharp nature of her cheekbones, if it turned out she held a large number of Facial upgrades.

'Does night vision come with those?' he wondered.

Hera's voice, even more strangely, was a whisper, but it was a whisper that filled the room.

Zhair'lo listened eagerly, hoping to get his first glimpse of the enemies of the Temple.

"We used Berel's information to locate his tribe," she told them. "We counted twenty men of fighting age and five more that might wield a sword if they had to, but they are no threat to us. There were no bows in evidence and the swords they had were of low quality. Many were rusted."

Their swords were rusted? Zhair'lo had known they were a small force ... but rusted swords?

"They do, however, carry these swords around at all times. It seems to be in the nature of the men to constantly test each other, sometimes resulting in violence and death. That's the simplest explanation for their skewed gender ratio."

They used their crappy, rusted swords to kill each other?

"Based on Berel's information, Seh'tin kept watch over the section of the road where Merelda had crossed into our city's limits. He can report the most recent incursion."

The male ranger, who also wore a single green chevron, stepped forward. His brown hair and medium brown skin blended easily into his greyish-brown cloak, a much smoother transition than that of his companion. But then, they wore hoods, didn't they? Hera's blonde hair would be well covered when she was on duty.

"I encountered a small group of barbarians," his voice carried a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. "From cover, I watched as they crossed our road on Merelda's trail and found their way to the spot where we found her. From that point, they argued for some time. It was obvious that they found the numerous sets of footprints very confusing. Eventually, however, they did determine that Merelda had backtracked. There was some discussion - I had to keep my distance, unfortunately- as to whether a neighbouring tribe had kidnapped Merelda alive or merely taken her dead body away."

"They think that Merelda was running intentionally to find this other tribe?" Ji'ann interrupted.

"No, Mistress," Seh'tin gave her a slightly ironic bow. "I don't quite understand how they surmised it, but they seem to believe that Merelda was kidnapped directly out of their camp."

"They think someone is stealing recently pregnant women?" Sergeant Yung asked, mystified.

"Quite," Seh'tin replied. "If the barbarian men had been under the impression that Merelda had run away, that is not their current theory. They have decided, instead, that Merelda was impregnated by some member of another group and has been subsequently captured by said tribe."

"She's property," Zhair'lo blurted out.

It seemed that hundreds of pairs of eyes suddenly focused on him as he bit down on his lip and cursed himself for speaking. It was Master Kendrick who broke the silence.

"Indeed she was, lad," his voice rolled. "But no longer."

"Begging your pardon, Seh'tin," a youngish male voice called from the back, "But if they think Merelda was a victim of another tribe, why did they beat her up? And why chase her now?"

"It is foolishness," Ji'ann stepped to the fore of the dais. "People such as these judge that her pregnancy by another man is her failure. They undoubtedly seek not to recover her, but to recapture her and punish her as an example to other women."

Zhair'lo heard the disgust in Ji'ann's voice, but remembered also, the Temple was not innocent in regard to punishing people to set an example.

"As if it should matter whose child it is," Zia hissed next to Zhair'lo, jarring him back to reality.

Ji'ann had already stepped into the background with a nod to Seh'tin.

"They were good enough at tracking to follow her course across our road and back onto it. However, the frequent use of that road by our patrols made it impossible for them to figure out, from there, where she had gone."

"Although I could not find a concealed place from which to hear the whole of their final conversation, it seemed that they had decided to regroup with the rest of their tribe and come for Merelda another day."

"Aye," said Master Kendrick. "That day will not arrive for them."

There was an entirely heartfelt round of dark laughter that greeted this statement.

Seh'tin nodded to Ji'ann, who stepped to the fore again.

"What it means," she said, "is that we'll have the whole lot of them in one place this afternoon. It's possible they'll be preparing to attack what they believe is another tribe. It's not likely they'll see us coming."

Ji'ann nodded again to Hera who, for almost half a bell, described the outskirts of the barbarian camp using a series of large, crudely drawn, paper maps. Much of it was incomprehensible to Zhair'lo. He understood the maps she presented but only figured out what the small symbols she had drawn on them were if she named them while pointing at them. He managed to get only a general idea of the little village they'd be attacking.

Merelda and Berel's tribe lived in small gulley, unprotected by any walls. It seemed that they moved frequently and lived in fairly mobile, tent-like dwellings. Several fires dotted their current campsite and a large dwelling, which doubled as an armoury, was central to their layout. This, it was made clear, was where they expected to find the tribe's leader.

"The length of his beard is enough to identify him," Hera said. "No other man, it seems, is permitted to have as long as beard. If you kill him early in the battle, it should be much easier to disable the others."

A memory twitched in Zhair'lo's mind when he heard the word 'disable'. He'd heard it before, if not with his own ears. It meant neither 'kill' nor 'injure', but was being used for an entirely different purpose. He grimaced, trying to pull the meaning out of his brain, but nothing came. Possibly Talla didn't even know the proper meaning of the word.

Hera went on, explaining the shape of the land and highlighting both cover and dangerous terrain. In one area were thick thorn bushes that could hinder their progress. In another were low hills which would allow a quiet approach.

When Hera finished describing the barbarian village, Ji'ann was ready.

After Hera's lithe body and quiet whisper, Ji'ann's size and thundering voice rolled over them. She began immediately laying out a deployment pattern. Archers would come in from behind cover from the north - the side nearest Gern. Two other squads would come from the west and east. They would not move in until the horn sounded. The horn - it was explained for the benefit of the Recruits - indicated that those with swords would be in the mix and that one must be more cautious in what was behind the target of one's arrows. This was mentioned in case the Recruits actually needed to use their bows which, Ji'ann made clear with a glare, would not happen.

"Master Kendrick," Ji'ann nodded when she was done.

The formidable man took centre stage again.

"I'll remind you that there a number of children in this village, so you'll watch where you point your bows," his deep voice warned. "There are a number of boys that ought not to have been taught to fight, but might be handed a sword anyway. Frighten them if you have to, but they shouldn't be so difficult that you need to kill them."

There was a grumble of uncomfortable assent to this statement.

Zhair'lo wondered what could be done with such children. Would they be moved into the city and entrusted to some Master to keep in line? Would they be ready for an apprenticeship? What if they didn't like it or even rebelled? Could they be a source of new dissidents for Talla and him?

"You'll kit up in one bell," Kendrick told them finally. "Good luck and good hunting."

"Aye!" they chorused back to him.

'Aye,' Zhair'lo thought. 'You fear these wild ones so much, thousands of people are dedicated to fighting them. I can't wait to meet them.'

---===================----

"We had unconscious guards in the Synergist tunnels?" the Queen of Form looked around at her underlings. "How?"

It was a nervous group of women that gathered in a circle about her desk. Officers in charge of the Enforcers were on hand, as were the Sorceresses of Tight and Iron. Scribes stood ready to take message and relay orders. A few Virgins and Initiates, on the outskirts, stood stiffly at attention, lest one of their mistresses grow thirsty.

"That is unclear, Highness," Sonja was the first to reply. "It appears to be the same ... effect that struck the Hunter's Camp many days ago."

"In other words," the Queen raised an eyebrow, "we have no idea."

The Sorceresses of Iron and Tight, in their olive drab sashes and skirts, stood on either of their Queen, arms folded under their breasts, both steaming with a need to take action and neither having any idea what to do.

Iron spoke first, "When was this discovered?"

Tight nodded toward one of the Officers, "Fin'la found them."

"Sixth bell, Mistress," the Officer, still in her light leathers, spoke up. "I found them myself when I took my squad to relieve them. Fearing both thievery and some type of poison in the air, I went in first while the others waited a safe distance away."

"All were unconscious?"

"Every single one, Mistress," she straightened her orange shirt. "They'd dropped wherever they were sitting or standing. From the bruises, I'd say they'd fallen very quickly - they'd had no ability to brace themselves."

"We need someone from Lips or Within," Iron turned to the two next to her, "someone who knows poisons."

"I've never heard of anything that can act that fast," Tight pointed out. "But maybe they have something."

"If they do," the Queen snorted, "they'd better be keeping a cork in it."

Several people gulped.

"What of the sewers?" Sonja put in thoughtfully.

"The sewers?" the Queen asked.

"There is still a shaft down to the sewers, is there not? I haven't drawn that duty in a while but -"

"Yes, there is," Fin'la said. "It is required to keep the Synergist from spoiling."

"Could some gas have come up from the sewers?"

All eyes turned to the Fin'la, who was clearly fighting not to shrug in dismay.

"I have no idea," she said. "That would be question, I think, for the Endowment women?"

"Any other ideas?" the Queen's voice sharpened.

When no response came, she spoke curtly.

"Sonja, you will go directly to Endowment and find someone with knowledge of the sewers. Take several women with you, Enforcers with as many Iron upgrades as possible. String yourselves out in case there is a poison or foul gas in the air. I don't want to lose all of you."

With a nod, the Queen dismissed the Adjudicate, who departed with a quick bow.

"Fin'la, what is the health of the guards?"

"They are unwell, but recovering in hospital."

"Interrogate them as best you can," the Queen instructed. "Figure out, at least, the last bell they remember hearing."

"A moment, Highness," Tight interrupted.

"Hm?"

"Fin'la," Tight asked. "Have you spoken to any of the women who were rendered unconscious at the Hunter's Camp?"

Fin'la looked thoughtfully in the air for a moment.

"No, Mistress."

"Good," Tight nodded. "Then interview your guards first and - afterwards - compare it with Sonja's notes about the others."

"Keep her unbiased," Iron nodded sagely.

"Highness, Mistresses," Fin'la bowed and exited.

"We'll need someone to visit the Sorceress of Lips, as well," the Queen put in, casting her eyes about for a volunteer.

The hands of two Officers went up.

"They both have several Lips upgrades," Tight pointed out.