Medieval Rain

by J. D. Sonne

  “As I said, I will train you, but, you are in a position to help me do something that is in your interests!” Rane said. “And, let me tell you why. Landman, Bruse and Chuan are alive!”

  This news brought Shad to her knees, for Bruse was hers. The other females, after the shock wore off, alternated between tears, laughter, gasps and embraces at the thought that their friends had escaped death, at least for the present.

  Then the barrage began. “Are they well? Where are they? How can we help? What can we do?”

  Rane explained as much about the prisoners’ situations as she could, excluding details that might inspire despair, and the group began to put together the spare rudiments of a plan. The excitement of their meeting quickened their spirits and they talked for many pours until the end of the third watch. Finally, sleep attacked them, leveling the group until a few pours after dawn. When they awoke, the sky was steeped in water mist that threatened a tempest.

  “I know of a cave nearby,” Shad yelled, barely heard above the wind gods stabbing at the cottony bags above them. “We can wait out the falling waters there!”

  Rane gathered her bedroll and saw that Saruah had awakened and was doing the same, her friend mechanically rolling the skins together. She still did not seem altogether herself, and Rane rushed to help her, bundling both rolls and hoisting them to the backs of their horses, trained to be calm and steady amid the tumult of weather.

  After the group had secured their belongings and bedrolls in the cave and Rane had seen to Saruah’s comfort, she sat just out of the rain, resting against a flat slab of rock to the side of the cave’s mouth. Watching the onslaught of storm raging up the rocky foothill, Rane wondered at the luck of finding Shad and the other refugees of the camp. She still had Saruah to convince, and that seemed a very steep and wide proposition, but somehow, a successful rescue seemed possible with the help of Shad’s group. Changing the present course of the ruling sex for a reassignation of rights for servaquan males, well, that was something else again. Rane wasn’t sure enough luck existed on Maraquan to ever allow viruls to escape their chains.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Mercifully, Saruah spent a couple of days sleeping off the effects of the needle venom which gave Rane just enough time to plan with Shad and the others. Saruah received very good care from the new Leads, who of course had been artful healers at their respective hearths. Rane looked in on her friend often, but found that her needs were met and in a way that she never could have done. The cave to which they had fled from the storm proved to be cozy, albeit a little damp, so she made sure that Saruah stayed tucked in her bedroll, even covering her with another skin or two proffered by Winsla and another Lead.

  The plan they discussed was a good one and Rane felt imbued with confidence that she, Shad and the others would be able to carry it off. Based on past experiences with planning, however, she did understand that facility was always more difficult than it seemed and that they must guard against cockiness. She made Shad and the others make alternate plans, and alternate plans to those, even though they thought Rane was being over cautious.

  Saruah’s illness was the only obstruction to their leaving, so after the plan was set, she poured all of her efforts into making her well. The forest was full of game and the Leads were good hunters—even better than Rane—so as soon as Saruah could eat, she had enough energy food to aid in her healing. As soon as Rane thought Saruah was strong enough, she revisited the discussion they had engaged in before running into Shad and the others. Rane remembered that Saruah had cooled during the talk when the subject fell on Landman, so Rane decided to begin with that.

  As Rane pulled one of the skins toward Saruah’s chin, she said, “I wanted to continue my story. How do you feel?”

  Saruah batted the skin out of Rane’s clutch and said, “Enough! I am getting too hot! I want out of this wretched bed and even more wretched cave!”

  Pulling away the skin, Rane agreed. “Then get well, Lead! We are all waiting for you! Here! Eat some more meat.”

  Reluctantly tearing at the scuprat morsel with her teeth, Saruah said, “So, who are these females? You must know them from your captivity. I remember your telling us that there were females in the camp.”

  “Yes,” Rane said, “they are some of the females from the camp. They are my friends.”

  “So, what are we going to do with them?”

  Now that Saruah was better and was showing no lasting ill effects of the venom, Rane blessed the time that she was unconscious, giving her time to form the answer to this question. “Oh, we’ll probably travel with them a while on our way back, and then they’ll go their own way.”

  “I would think they would come back with us,” Saruah said, gnawing at a particularly tough morsel. “They need to learn their place in our world. We could turn them into proper Leads.”

  Rane nodded, trying to hide her elation. “I never thought of that,” she lied. “Perhaps we should, if they want to, that is.”

  This seemed to satisfy Saruah, and she went back to the subject that they had been discussing previous to the attack. “So, go on with your story. Tell me of Landman. Did you couple with him?”

  The question was rather blunt, and Rane decided to be cautious. “Why do you ask? He’s a virul. Do you think I would couple with a virul with whom I have no contract?”

  “Come on, Rane! Are you going to tell me the truth or not? You can trust me. I am your friend, and I want to help—you have been through a lot.”

  Rane picked up a small stick and started tracing runes in the dirt to help her think. If Saruah were going to hate the thought of love between a Lead and a virul, Rane might as well know it now.

  “Do you remember how we make fun of the idiots who have feelings for the viruls they contract with?” Rane asked. “How we mock them for their lack of control?”

  “Yes,” Saruah said, a skeptical lilt accompanying the affirmation. “So?”

  “Well, you will have to label me thus. I love Landman. I am in love with him.”

  “This is a horrible story!” Saruah said, trying to rise out of the bedroll, but the venom that was still in her system robbed the impulse and she lay back down. Weakly, she went on, “He beat you; he almost killed your sister! And then he kidnapped you! I can understand lust with a virul, especially in your brainwashed state! But love? They are not capable of love! They couple with us when they are contracted to do so.”

  Rane stopped for a moment, a little surprised at Saruah’s vehemence. She had expected a little skepticism, and even curiosity, but she had to figure out the right words to get her friend to understand. Then she thought of something strange: science. A scientific discussion like the ones they had at school. Rane’s science was aquatic engineering from whence sprang her interest in water flow and waterwork construction. At that moment she blessed the Watergods that Saruah’s science was biology.

  She posed a question that she knew would entangle Saruah with logic. “Why are viruls here?”

  Saruah’s answer was immediate. “To serve us, and ugh, to aid us in producing offspring.” She shuddered.

  Rane understood that reaction, for before her experiences with Landman, she shared it. “True, but if viruls are so lowly, why did the Watergods allow them to share the planet with us?”

  “Viruls were a mistake! That is why most of us do not really believe in the Watergods! They must be fallible to have produced such a devolved notion of us! Remember what the viruls did to the planet, Rane? Remember their violence? The waters! You have experienced their violence firsthand, not to mention your sister! That is why we have to control them, subjugate them!”

  This was not going well, Rane thought. Then she had an idea. “What if I told you that Landman and I were partners? That I was able to work with him as an equal, just like I am able to work with you? That I feel about him almost the way I feel about you? That he is my friend! I believe that is how the biology of female and male is supposed to work! That biologically, it
makes more sense for the two genders to work together rather than one being subject to the other.”

  Saruah did not answer right away. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes searching through the problem.

  “But what have we been taught all these years?” Saruah asked, almost in a whine. “Viruls are a subspecies; viruls’ brains are smaller, evidenced by the overcompensation of muscle and sinew in their bodies; they are not meant to lead; They are meant to be controlled, which is helpful to them—we are saving them from destruction! And ourselves, by the way. There is a reason our Titleds teach us these things!”

  “You are right!” Rane said, trying to keep her tone academic. “It is in the Titleds’ interest to keep the viruls subjugated. Isn’t that what people in power do? Listen, I’m not saying that we are to throw care away, for if we are not careful, the viruls could very well do to us what we are doing to them, as they have in the past. But doesn’t it seem possible that the genders could work together, and that biologically speaking, that would make more sense? Can you imagine what would happen to our world if we could couple with viruls, creating families, using their strengths rather than exploiting them into slavery? The absence of cruelty? The absence of punishment meted out from one group to another?”

  Saruah said, “When the viruls were in charge, do you think they thought of working with females? No! They were crueler to us than we have ever been to viruls. We are just keeping order. Back in history, the males were cruel to us only because of their superior strength--which they were not afraid to use. Just as we should not be afraid to use our superior brains to keep order! We have an absence of war, Rane! When the males were in charge, wars were the norm, not the exception. No, our society is much better!”

  “You say that just because we are in charge,” Rane pointed out. “Does it feel right to you? The way we treat viruls?”

  “I treat my viruls well!” Saruah protested. “We rarely punish them because mother knows how to manage them, as I know your mother does!”

  “What if I told you that the ritual is being administered to more viruls than we realize?” Rane said. “What if I told you that torture of viruls is happening, just for sport?’

  “That is nonsense! There are laws and protocols for the punishment of unruly viruls. No one would dare perform the ritual!”

  “I saw the scars on Landman!” Rane insisted, her voice rising. “I saw them, and I know who did it! Sondrae! The daughter of our beloved Larad! I also know that Larad has torture cells for viruls! And that is only one case I know of. I am sure that there are others. There is a wide-scale abuse of our laws. And the viruls are paying for it with their lives.”

  Saruah stopped, apparently surprised at Rane’s heated reaction. “But, Rane,” she said quietly. “You have disappeared viruls, yourself. You beat rat to within an inch of his life, and there are others! You cannot put all of this on Sondrae and her mother. We are all guilty, in one way or another. But we are guilty because these tactics work. They keep viruls in line.”

  “But it doesn’t feel right,” Rane said, sobbing. “It can’t be right! You know biology! You’ve studied many species here on Maraquan! Does it seem right that we, the only evolved species on the planet make enemies of the opposite sex? Do the other species operate thus?”

  She was very happy to hear a small gasp from Saruah. The argument seemed to have taken hold, for her friend’s mouth opened as if to answer, then closed again. Rane pressed further.

  “I know I am guilty of maltreatment of viruls! I know that! And in the back of my mind, whenever I punished or killed one of them, there was always a spark of self-doubt in my mind. That spark grew with every violent act until it eventually flamed into a raging fire in my conscience. The latest murder--however justified it may have been--” she said to Saruah’s skeptical face, “made me realize that I would never be able to discipline a virul like that again.” Not only that, the feelings I had for Landman started to extend to the entire gender. I wanted not only Landman but all viruls to think well of me. If Landman and the others knew of Murman’s murder, they would never speak to me again, even if they live through this.”

  “Live through this? You mean the wilding and execution?” Saruah asked, then her tone became sly. “And just how would they live through such a final punishment?” Saruah looked hard at Rane’s face, then said in bewilderment, “All this persuasion, all this philosophy of virul equality,” she spat the last word, “all of it is because you are going to try to free them. And you want my help in doing it!”

  Rane said nothing, and looked at her hands. The next words out of her mouth were probably the most important of her life. She must choose carefully. Before she could form them, Saruah struggled to her feet, venom notwithstanding.

  “Rane, this lust or love or whatever you call it, has made you mad,” she said in a raging whisper. “Or maybe it isn’t lust or love at all, but just the effects of the viruls in that camp torturing you! Landman included.” Her voice spiked at the last phrase.

  Rane still had no idea what to say. She was just opening her mouth to murmur, it doesn’t matter, I love him—which she knew was the lamest, most idiotic reply she or any fool on Maraquan could have thought of, when Shad came running to the back of the cave where Saruah lay.

  “He survived! He lives!” Shad yelled, her drawn face showing great joy. “I was wrong—he didn’t die!”

  The confusion of her conversation with Saruah had Rane at a disadvantage and she found her mind wasn’t working properly. Her racing heart pumping blood into her bewildered brain wasn’t helping either. “Who? Who survived?” Rane asked, impatience heightening the barking quality of her voice. “What are you talking about, Shad?”

  “It is Scout! Our Scout! He escaped death and only received a slight wound from the Lead who attacked him. He is alive! And, he is here to help us!”

  “Who is Scout?” Saruah asked, confused. “Was he from the camp? I thought we killed all the viruls except for those now in the cells.”

  Before her abduction, Rane never experienced the sensation of ice water devouring her innards. But, since the day she was taken, the fraught twists that now wobbled her existence inspired many such reactions, and she didn’t like them much. Her prior life as a Lead always had made her blood run warm and constant; now, with Shad’s mention of Scout’s name, the cold shock returned to her veins.

  It wasn’t that she was afraid of Scout. Like any other virul on the planet, she could best him in any physical contest, but his appearance could compromise her ability to persuade Shad and the other renegade females to help her rescue Landman and his party. If Scout started an argument, accusing her of complicity in the destruction of the camp, or even that Rane had beat him as rat in their old lives, she could lose Shad’s support. Right now, the females were very welcoming of her and her rescue plan, a fact that could be turned on its head by a doubtful word from Scout.

  Rane gazed at Saruah for a moment. She also had the problem of convincing Saruah to help. Her head started whirling with all the complexities of this situation. Saruah could not be privy to any conversation or fight with Scout, nor could she even get a look at him since It was possible that she could recognize him as the virul rat that Rane had roughed up. Eventually, Rane would have to come up with something to explain his presence and even his existence, but that would have to come later. Immediately, she stood and walked toward the front of the cave.

  Sure enough, as soon as Scout saw her, he visibly bristled, his hands fisting, his eyes black darts of fury. Rane charged, but did not attack, pretending to hug him in welcome, then used her training and strength to drag him out of the cave away from the others.

  Actually, the morphing emotions of his features from the time Scout first saw Rane to her arresting his arm were like the shifting colors the stalking archeraptor used to blend into the foliage of their world. Surprise, confusion, shock, anger and anxiety all in succession colored his face, then all those feelings congealed in his cheeks after she p
ulled him out of the cave and roughly sat him on some rocks without.

  “Shut-up!” Rane said to his ready face. “I know what you are going to say, and I want you to shut up!”

  He stood up, throwing his arms out in frustration and pacing about. “I will not shut up!” He said. “You will not—”

  And then she was upon him, throwing her body against the core of his torso, both of them ploughing into the dust. In a series of dizzying and deft moves, she grabbed the middle-webbed appendage of his left hand while he howled, and clapped her other hand over his mouth. The pain subdued him just enough so that she shifted her holds, using one hand to force his arm behind him, and using her other arm to lock his neck in a chokehold. He was unable to cry out as her arm restricted his air just enough to cut off his speech.

  “I am trying to convince your females and my friend in there,” she hissed into his ear, “to help me rescue Landman and the others! Yes, I know I almost killed you when you were the virul rat back in the sector, and I know you think I was instrumental in the destruction and killings in the camp, but let me tell you that I was just as surprised as all of you by the attack. All that doesn’t matter! Right now, I am in the middle of planning for Landman’s rescue, and if you argue and try to diminish me in front of the others, they will doubt my resolve and even their own ability to rescue our friends.”

  Scout’s eyes were bulging a little too much, so she loosened her arm somewhat so that his breath was more forthcoming. To her surprise, he didn’t argue, but asked a cogent question.

  “You know where they are?” He rasped. “You have a plan?”