by Candy Rae
Jim Cranston, up at the command post, was jubilant. Through his binoculars he spied the convict army begin to march out of the settlement gates. Two Lindars who had patiently waited atop the rocky crags to the north for the entire battle he ordered to leave the defence lines and move down to the settlement area and offer what assistance they could to the humans inside. They were warned not to provoke a Larg counterattack.
The Lindar assigned to enter the walls of the settlement itself were to take whatever steps they considered reasonable to eradicate any remaining resistance. Jim was a practical man and furthermore, saw no need to practice restraint towards those reluctant or unwilling to surrender. Reports were beginning to come in from Matvei and the others and Jim was shocked to the marrow to learn about those southerners who had cold-bloodily killed every adult male they could get their hands on. The Lindars concerned were more than keen to get started on their duties and many a tail wagged hard as they sped on their way.
Jim would soon learn the full cost of their victory. He was sure the butcher’s bill would be a high one. He dreaded finding out.
He stood, wearily leaning against his beloved Larya as the news began to come in. The battle was won. The long lines of convicts were weaving their way back to whence they came. They and their Larg allies would begin to cross over the shallows to the first island before dusk. By morning they would be gone.
A keening howl began to fill the air. Jim looked round. It seemed that every Lind capable of doing so was sitting up on his or her haunches and singing a peculiar litany of tones.
He looked enquiringly at Larya.
“It is the victory song.”
“It sounds so mournful.”
“Yes, it greets the victory but acknowledges those rtathen not with us now.”
“No more shalt thee run, hunt and play,
Under the soft warm sun of day.
He who has died, he has gone away,
She who has fallen, she cannot stay.
Midst trees tall,
We mourn thee all.
Midst mountains high,
We for thee sigh,
Midst rivers fast,
We sing of seasons past.
Midst valleys deep,
We thy memory keep.
Midst meadows bare,
Thy deaths we will share.
He who has died has gone away,
She who has fallen cannot stay.
Be still, mine rtathen.”
Jim looked at the ground, tears swelling in his eyes. The Lind lament was so sad he felt he could not bear it. Eventually it began to die down, then ceased altogether. Then from Robert’s infantry ranks, the men and women began to sing in their turn, an eons old hymn, telling of lost shipmates and comrades. The Lind cocked their ears and listened, knowing that this was the human tribute to those who had fallen.
“Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide:
When helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”
As the first verse ended, Jim did begin to cry although he managed to control himself in time to hear the last.
“Hold you your cross before my closing eyes,
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s shadows flee:
In life and death, O Lord, abide with me.”
“What is this Lord they sing about?” asked Larya.
“It is an ancient song,” answered Jim. “Some humans believe that there is a being all around us,” he glanced up at the sky, “who created everything and everyone. I personally don’t but that’s my decision.”
“Is this Lord like the Lai?”
“Something like,” agreed Jim, not wishing to get into a theological discussion about their respective beliefs and traditions. It was neither the time nor the place.
The battlefield fell silent except for the sounds of the wounded and dying.
The badly injured Larg lay, knowing that the coup de grace would not be long in coming. They did not wish to survive and have to return to the south with the resultant punishment for failure and for being weak willed enough not to fight to the death rather than be captured.
Not all the convicts made it home either. Some were wounded and lagged behind. The Lindars did not kill those men without good reason. If they surrendered, fine, they were helped. Some however, although hurt, were not prepared to be taken prisoner. These the Lind dealt with in predictable fashion. Colonel Cracov was one of them. He even managed to wound two Lind before he was killed. The prisoners who could stand were escorted back to the settlement. There they were thrust into the empty jezdic corral outside the walls and left to contemplate their sins. It is on record that none attempted to escape. The Lind guard prowling outside the fence was more than enough to dissuade them.
* * * * *
