Conflict and Courage

by Candy Rae

  He sniffed deeply then looked at Francis, abashed, “it’s the free air,” he explained, “it makes me want to breathe it in forever.”

  “It’s Vadath,” said Asya. “Land of the Free.”

  : I think my dear : sent Francis : that you have been listening to Laura reading some of these terrible epics again :

  Asya wagged her tail.

  : I like the stories :

  : You and Laura do. I and Faddei most definitely do not. Must be a female thing :

  : Okay, okay, keep your hair on :

  : Land of the Free sounds so, so bumptious somehow :

  : True though : she answered, having the last word much as Tara’s Kolyei did.

  * * * * *

  “You can’t do good work if you are exhausted,” said Winston, once more at the helm whilst Hilary slept. The young woman had given up command of the Holad and lain down on her pallet with relief. She had made many difficult decisions, a credit to her training, but all she wanted was to be an insignificant doctor again.

  “But I need to keep busy,” Emily swayed on her feet. “I don’t want to think.”

  “I understand lass,” said Winston, patting her shoulder, “but it’s bad to hold your feelings in. I’ll try and fit in a chat later, now go to bed. In the morning we’ll be run off our feet again and I need you to help me with the surgery.”

  She looked at him with gratitude. In the surgical tent there was no reason for her to interact with her patients, she was not ready for that yet.

  “Human or Lind?” she asked.

  “Lind. I’m a vet remember, though during the last few years I have attained a certain proficiency with human anatomy but I still prefer to leave that side of things to the doctors. Hilary was operating until an hour ago and Doctor James too. There’s a steady stream of injured still coming in.”

  He gestured towards the awning where the two lind-sized operating tables were.

  The next day Emily was woken early and after she had eaten made her way to the surgical tent.

  “Scrub up,” ordered Winston, “protective gloves are on that table.”

  Emily nodded; she would need them to guard her hands against the numbing properties of the Smaha root. A wonderful medicinal plant, native to Rybak, it was both a numbing agent and an antiseptic but surgeons and nurses had to cover their skin against it, otherwise their hands became so numb they were incapable of conscious movement, hence the gloves. Emily donned a cap to restrain her hair, a gown then put on the gloves and, thus prepared, approached their first patient.

  To her horror, she recognised the Lind lying there. It was Larya, Jim Cranston’s vadeln-pair, her white fur matted with dried blood, her eyes full of worry.

  “Jim’s in a bad state, she wouldn’t leave him for long enough for this to be done before,” he replied, bending over the wound and starting to sew up the ripped tendons on her chest. The wound was not deep Emily was thankful to see.

  “This looks worse than it is, the medics stabilised it in the dressing station,” Winston continued cheerfully to Larya. “We’ll soon have you back with Jim.”

  Emily busied herself with passing Winston the prepared suture needles and mopped up the blood.

  “Not long now,” she said with encouragement.

  They worked together in silence then Winston stepped back as Emily sprayed the wound area one last time before beckoning over the stretcher-bearers. She helped them manoeuvre Larya on to the buggy and watched as it moved away, back to the tent where Jim hovered between life and death.

  Injured vadeln-pairs were always kept together.

  Busy in the tent, Emily was spared the sight of the battlefield cleanup. She did not want to watch as the bodies of Brian and Sofiya were taken away to join the other dead awaiting burial.

  Later, however, she and Ilyei stood at Winston and Kolyei’s side, taking part in the short service that committed the fallen to eternal rest in the grave mound that held all those who were not of Geraldine and Jsei’s Fourth Ryzck and Richard and Dahlya’s Tenth.

  She stood again three days later, sad that Brian was not there to see his brother Louis plight his troth to Cherry Howard, watched by Ustinya and Baltvei who saw no need for such formal arrangements. The Lind committed themselves to each other and got on with it.

  The only other bright spot on Emily’s immediate horizon was the recovery of Jim Cranston. With single-minded determination he dragged himself back to life if not to full health.

  Jim would never fight again. His future and Larya’s was to be honoured retirement at the pack Afanasei domta.

  None forgot, that it was Jim and his Larya who had saved them again, remembering how they had attacked, how they had encouraged and rallied them when all seemed lost and how they had, already wounded, led the charge that had forced the kohorts to leave the ridge.

  He and Larya were remembered in sagas for generations, hero of Vadath and Lind both, leader above all leaders, beloved Ruza of legend and tradition.

  A great epitaph, although his and Larya’s gravestone at domta Afanasei would simply state Ruza Jim, First Susyc of Lind and Human and his Larya.

  Francis and Asya were appointed permanent Susyc of the north.

  Jim had led the north for nine long years, a charismatic and visionary commander with a genius for tactics and a wonderful aptitude for leadership, Francis was diffident about his abilities as his successor but proud to be given the chance.

  * * * * *

  To the east, the wide patrol topped yet another rise, this part of southwestern Vadath undulated like a swelling sea, and stopped to get their bearings. The weather was foul, sleeting rain interspersed with a drizzle.

  “Can you smell burning?” asked Cherry of Peter, “Baltvei says he can.”

  “Now that you mention it, there is a faint whiff of something, strange, I wouldn’t expect to smell anything in this confounded rain.” He frowned. This was his first patrol as Vadryza and he was anxious for it to go well. As it had been raining since they had left the dom at first light with grass, foliage, Lind and human soaked through, it was indeed odd that anything could burn.

  “There’s a farmstead around here if I’ve got my bearings right. Perhaps a fire?”

  “In this rain?”

  “Well, it can’t be the southerners, none made it this far west.”

  “You sure about that?” was Cherry’s query. “Everything is a bit disorganised. Some of the Larg may have slipped through before the Lindars arrived or even after. The battlefield was pretty shambolic.”

  “We’d better go and check it out,” Peter decided and as one the wide patrol began to descend the slope and make their way towards where Peter and Radya remembered the farmstead was situated.

  The stench of burning became ever more pronounced as they galloped towards it.

  : Smells like burning meat : Cherry ‘thought’ to Baltvei as they reached the tip of the river valley. The farmstead was downstream.

  : Not meat. Get your sword out. I do not like the feel of this :

  Cherry heard the sound of scabbards being loosened.

  : Spread out : ordered Peter and the twelve formed a line abreast with Peter in the middle as they continued their gallop towards the smouldering farm.

  : Larg : observed Radya as they pounded forwards.

  : They got this far? : gasped Peter.

  : They can run fast when there is need :

  : But the Larg can’t make fire :

  : Humans can :

  : But that means? :

  : Yes. Larg have let men ride them :

  : Like us? :

  : Not same I hope and to get here they must have set out as soon as boats arrived :

  : And in the confusion and battle, their tracks, we would not see them :

  “The Larg,” he called out, “they might be anywhere. Everyone watch out.”

  They ran across the fields and past the pitiful little heaps that were dead kura.

  What met their eyes when they entere
d the farm courtyard was one of horror. Every living creature was dead. Cherry and Baltvei came to a halt in the centre of the yard, the bile rising in the girl’s throat, even Baltvei gulped noisily as he tried to stop himself from retching.

  Peter waved her towards a smouldering barn to the left and still mounted, sword at the ready as Wilhelm had taught her, she entered. A dead hound bitch and what was left of her puppies lay in a tangled bloody mass inside the door. Larg paw prints were everywhere, somewhat larger than that of the Lind. Leaning against the only intact wall the rabbit hutches were overturned, their former occupants nowhere to be seen. Escaped more than likely, thought Cherry, noting the lack of bloodied remains in the vicinity. She retched again. Even the horrors of the battle at the Keep had not prepared her for this.

  Then came the call she and Baltvei were dreading.

  It was Peter’s voice. “To me,” he was shouting, “we’ve found the family.”

  The family were inside their farmhouse cabin where they had taken refuge when the attackers had descended.

  “They nailed them to the walls,” cried Peter. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  Cherry swallowed.

  “Alive?” she gasped, staring at the blackened corpses.

  “Looks that way,” was his grim response, “nailed them up then set fire to the building. I can smell oil. It’s built of wood; it would’ve gone up like a torch.”

  Cherry gazed at a very small body hanging on the wall by its arms. As she watched, the blackened timbers collapsed and the body fell to the ground among a burst of blackened wood dust and embers.

  Cherry was noisily sick.

  “Find a spade,” ordered Peter, “we need to bury them.”

  The human element of the patrol completed the grisly task in absolute silence. As she helped shovel earth over the grave, Cherry was not alone in vowing to bring the perpetrators of this atrocity to justice.

  The tracks of their enemies leaving the farmstead were clear and internment over, the twelve pairs, in silence, prepared to follow.

  : Twenty Larg : telepathed Baltvei : all mounted but one, he the leader will be, tracks lead south. Peter say thinks they make for coast where boat waits for them :

  : Why did they do this Baltvei? :

  : Larg enjoy killing, you know this, revenge, they know army is defeated :

  : It all seems so pointless. What did that family do to them? :

  : It is ever so. All we can do is protect what we can and save who we can :

  : They never do stay do they? :

  : I do not think they like our rtathlians :

  As Peter led the patrol south, they came across other devastated farmsteads. Only one however, contained the same horrors as the first one, most of the other farmers had managed to get away and to free their livestock.

  At this second farm, the raiders had been even more creative, staking out their captives, torturing and raping them before letting the Larg finish them off. The dead faces would haunt the patrol members for months to come.

  The news arrived that the raiders had been run to earth by a detachment from Lindar Ratvei. After a short and bloody fight, all had been slain, ex-convict and Larg both.

  Predictably, the Larg had refused to surrender. The humans with them had not appeared to be just quite so keen on a glorious death on the battlefield.

  Faced with a suicidal charge, the Lind had had no alternative but to kill them all.

  One of the humans killed was en ex-lieutenant of Duchesne’s regiment, one who had burned alive the captured male defenders at Settlement during the Battle of the Alliance. His death was mercifully quick unlike those of his victims but unlike the Larg, the Lind were not vindictive. They did not enjoy killing for killing’s sake.

  During the next few days, another Larg raiding party was caught and despatched when Peter’s patrol, together with the pack Ratvei Lindar, ran them down in the uninhabited woodlands some hectares west of the Vadath border. Predictably, not one invader emerged from this melee alive either.

  They swung round and headed home to Vadath.

  When they arrived at the newly named Trumpet Keep they learned that the southern rearguard, made up of a few Larg and a few dozen of the remaining infantry soldiers had gone during the night.

  The north had lost too many already.

  * * * * *

  “You have come a long way since we landed on Rybak,” Laura informed her husband when she, the children and the ltsctas greeted him on his return to the stronghold, “from being the most troublesome crewmember on the Argyll to commander of the northern armies!” She wrapped her arms round him, “I’m so very proud of you.”

  He looked down at her.

  “It just shows that everyone has it within them to make good.”

  “You are talking about Pierre Duchesne?”

  “Yes. He’s another whose redemption is very real. Whatever his past crimes he has proven himself a good man, an honourable man and a true leader of his people. He and his fought well and bravely for Vadath.”

  “They’ll never be welcome in Argyll,” she warned.

  “They are welcome here in Vadath, that’s all that matters. There’s plenty of land for them here. Within a generation no one will remember where they came from, nor will they care.”

  “And Vadath has survived.”

  The two of them stood and watched as their youngsters, child and ltscta both, swarmed around and over the indulgent Faddei and Asya in a noisy and exuberant demonstration of high spirits.

  “I suppose,” said Francis, “we’d better go rescue them. Asya and Faddei mayn’t survive their ministrations. Looks as if the play is getting out of hand.”

  Laura laughed.

  “I think we can safely leave Faddei to ensure the rumpus doesn’t go too far. Myself, I would like some quality time with my husband, wounds permitting.”

  “I’ll manage,” he answered with a grin.

  : Go on : telepathed Asya and Faddei in unison.

  Hand in hand, they ran towards their quarters, laughing as they went.

  * * * * *

  “Aoalvaldr failed in his quest to destroy us,” said Tara with satisfaction.

  “Yes he did, but many lives were lost,” replied Winston filled with the gut-wrenching knowledge that his own son was dead.

  He waved to Hilary who was beckoning and strode away to see what she wanted.

  “Many ltsctas lost fathers,” added Kolyei. He himself had lost his father Sanvei to the Larg when he was a few seasons old. He recollected that time well.

  Tara was thinking of her parents’ deaths in the cosmic storm before she had even heard of Rybak.

  “We will write down all their stories so they’re not forgotten, won’t we Kolyei?”

  “No more journeys?” he asked.

  “Perhaps not as many nor as far. We will settle at the stronghold with Peter and Radya, bring up our children. One day though, I would like to go west again.”

  “When we grow old?” Kolyei teased, “yes, I would like that, we could look up old friends.”

  “Mariya knows you know.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Who we met there.”

  “Perhaps, but she won’t say anything.”

  “Do you think anyone will ever read that part of the history of our journey we hid with her?”

  “Maybe, if the need arises.”

  * * * * *

  “What a waste,” said Geraldine of Richard as they and their respective Ryzcks rested before returning to their duty stations, “if only there was a way to stop it.”

  “The pirates here to stay,” was Jsei’s comment, “and Larg will attack us always. We might be able to make deal with the ex-convicts but not in my lifetime.”

  Richard turned to Jsei, “I think you may be right. The Larg’ll always be a threat but in Murdoch the men will change. The male and female ratio will balance out in a generation or so, perhaps then the pirate raids will stop.”

  “I doubt
it, even if Murdoch proper becomes more civilised, the pirates have their island base now,” said Dahlya.

  “Perhaps the pirates will start attacking them?”

  “Who, the Murdochians?” Dahlya rocked back on her paws in amazement.

  “Just a thought, but if you were Murdoch’s king, would you want slavers and pirates rampaging through your country? We humans have more in common with the people of Murdoch than we think. Our descendants might find themselves allied to Murdoch, a mutual pact against Larg and piracy,” he shrugged and looked at her, “with our Lind partners we will continue to defend our continent against all threats. Our people shall remain free and safe in this world of Rybak. We shall not fail them. Let us raise our glasses.”

  Richard stood up. “A toast,” he cried.

  “A toast to what?” the survivors of the Fourth and Tenth Ryzcks asked.

  “To freedom, what else is there?”

  The voices, human and Lind resounded round the stronghold.

  “To Freedom.”

  * * * * *

  “There are only four of the original twelve who started out left now,” said Tara, “and every one of them bar one killed by the Larg.”

  “They knew it might happen any time,” said Peter, “but it didn’t stop them.”

  “You serve with the Vada,” she fretted, “what if it happens to you and Radya?”

  He kissed her.

  “It won’t,” he promised, “I don’t know why but I have a feeling in my bones that this is the last we’ll see of the Larg here in Vadath, in Argyll too for that matter for a long time.”

  “Do you really think so Peter?” Tara was begging to be convinced.