Chapter Ten: Source Point Conception — Part 4

The Warrior Past Subtext, Memory Transference: Part 2 . . .

The priestess overseeing the torture had drawn a sickle shaped blade from its resting place on a slab of stone, intending to perform the final cuts to body and genitals that would either kill the child or free her of the demon that made her one of the Given Cursed before Alon had freed the hag’s hand from the wretched body it had been so eager to serve, and knocked her out of his way with a stiff shoulder. Now Alon found himself outnumbered and unable to flee further, the time to fight to the death had come to him in a fury. He put his back to a massive tree trunk, and readied his sword and mind for the last futile battle.

Alon’s voice echoed in Jun’s nearly shattered mind. “May we both die quickly, but not more quickly than those who seek us harm.”

Then Jun heard the hum of friends, the voices of a people she could hear in her mind. The very power her mother sought to kill her for brought to her so much comfort, even as her heart struggled to keep a constant rhythm. Alon looked up at the night sky, wanting to see it one last time, unable to hear the sound that brought a smile to his dying daughter’s face. Jun looked up with him, a difficult motion, as her eyes were nearly swollen shut. The stars started to move as if of their own accord, then, seemingly one by one, they fell from the sky, and the deadly whistles of their descent filled Jun with a mix of awe and newly discovered fear. The stars dropped hard and fast, growing in size as they repositioned themselves around her father, spreading out in all directions. These were the angels in Jun’s dreams, the ones who she heard no matter where they were. To Alon, these were the sentient species of carrion eaters whose strange interactions with humes required both patience and caution. Alon spoke to the biggest bug of them all, one that seemed at this time to be discussing issues with the leader of the Blessed Many.

“Are you here to help me, or to barter for my body when they are done?” Alon asked, keeping his voice level.

“We are here because the girl called to us.” Orange Bug whistled.

Alon found himself confused. The Gash was many weeks walk west of the Wild Lands. Tens of thousands of bugs had traveled for hours, probably, because they heard a little girl crying. The Bugs were primarily highly evolved and incredibly long-lived insects wrapped in powerful balls of plasma. They did not think or act like humes. They did not fear hume weaponry, nor, for that matter, did they fear anything else. The Bugs spoke a wonderful language that Alon was years from fully comprehending. It was a language of whistles and tones so complex that they seemed to paint pictures in the mind. The Blessed Many had stopped in fear, staring at the various creatures with a mix of anger and concern. The swarm of spheres created an impermeable shield between Alon and those bent on killing him. Alon pulled Jun to his shoulder, knowing that if he and Jun were to die, the Bugs would ensure a swift and painless demise. The Orange Bug spoke as the voice of all Bugs, and his words were a harsh reminder of why no hume nation ever sought war with the aliens. For the courtesy of the humes, Orange Bug spoke a language all of them could understand.

“The one who harmed the child brought my youngest son great suffering, as the two are bound by thought and body. The one who harmed the child has brought an injustice to one of both species, and an injustice to both species as a whole. Who harmed the child?” The orange ball, whose name translated either as Orange Bug or Big Orange, demanded an answer.

“The Priestess of this Tribe,” Alon said, trying to be clear. “She is somewhere among them. Her body was broken when I took the child from her, I also cut her hand free at the wrist. I doubt she can still move of her own free will.”

“You hurt the Priestess?” Orange Bug asked, its tones low and off-key.

“I admit I did. I was focused on saving my daughter, and the welfare of those seeking her harm brought me little concern.”

Within his sphere of bright, powerfully orange light, the biggest bug studied the scene. “It is obvious the father opposed this abuse. Who supported her suffering? Who among you allowed such injustice to continue?”