The Blood-Rage (23) Patra watch the boy obey. "Can you feel the earth on your forehead?" the woman asked. "Yes," came his muffled reply. "Press your head down further, tight against the ground. Yes, that's it," the woman whispered, bringing the dagger over the base of his neck. It hovered there, her knuckles white around the handle. Her hand began to shake, and she quickly wrapped the other one around it. "Say the words, my son," she said, her voice breaking. His reply was muffled but heard by all. "Agon, here is my blood. Give me eternal peace." Both of the female's hands were shaking now, and Patra knew what she, herself, must do. She squeezed her hand that was resting on the other's shoulder, digging her nails into flesh, brutally. As if a mental trigger had snapped, the female's body convulsed as she drove the dagger downward. The keen point of the knife pierced the boy's neck easily, driving deep into his brain stem. Death was instantaneous; he jerked once and was still. The woman's mate moaned. Patra quickly put her other hand under the female's chin, forcing the other's head up and body back, saying, "Let go of your dagger. Yes, that's it. Now, close your eyes, relax, and think of nothing." She held the female tightly, rocking her back and forth. Rasp leaped from his mount and ran up to the transfixed male. Grabbing his arm, he said, "Quick now, remove the dagger from your son and carry him away from this place. Place him in the open for the predators of night and never tell your mate where." The warrior nodded but didn't move. "Promise me," he whispered, "That if she kills herself, you will give me peace." He looked at Rasp and locked the other's arm in his. "Promise me!" "You have my word. Now go!" Rasp pleaded. The warrior nodded again and then, on stiff legs, moved forward. He was out of sight before Patra released the female. The woman's lax body rolled onto the ground, and she lay there moaning, "I want to die . . . I want to die." Patra, still kneeling beside the female, reached out and stroked the other's brow and said, "Your dagger is back in its sheath. If it's your wish to die, you have that right; and no one will stop you. But before you do, hear me. Once, long ago, I was where you are now, wanting to end my life and overwhelmed by grief. But by a narrow margin I didn't succumb. I now have a daughter, normal and beautiful, a prize for Agon. You, too, can travel this path. Think of your mate. If you die, he dies. Find your strength. Live. And by living, you will let your mate live also and between you create another son at some future date. It's true that this grief you have will never die while you live, but it can be partially countered by a new creation. Think before you die. Be rational." The female lay quietly now, staring up into the infinite sky, unblinking. There was no expression on her face. Patra rose and walked slowly back toward her own mu-lynx. Gravestone joined her, putting his arm around her waist as they walked. When they reached her mount, Gravestone whispered into her ear, "Which path will she take?" She looked deep into his eyes and said, "Life, I think. No, no . . . I'm sure. She will live." She began to shake violently and quickly added, "Take me away from here, now. I cannot bear this place . . . these people . . . any longer. They remind me of myself." CHAPTER 24 Never try to defeat opponents in their area of strength. Instead search for their weaknesses and make them the primary points of your attack. But beware, for they will try to do the same with you. -From the Thoughts of Night Mist- They all rode away except Rasp. Darkcian looked back, seeing the grim and dwindling form of the old warrior standing there, waiting to kill if necessary. The female was still lying on the ground. Darkcian's own thoughts were mixed. He tried to detach his feelings from what he had just witnessed but was not successful. Obviously necessary, he thought. The boy was deformed, genetically unacceptable; and the Second Law is explicit about this condition. Interesting how they killed him, though. Ritualized. I wonder why? And why do I feel badly at what I saw? It was horrible . . . but necessary, I guess. Suddenly he wasn't sure about that last thought, and the uncertainty added to his already considerable confusion about Agon and its laws. He thought: I'm questioning their mind-set more and more. And I'm diverging from it further and further. He turned forward, riding easily, scanning the blue sky and the land before him, an automatic habit now. He frowned as the uneasy feelings kept nagging at his mind. Rasp caught up with the Kalt clan about an hour later. Darkcian watched as the old warrior nodded in reassurance to Patra's agonizing glance, and all could see the tension go out of her body. She was sick then, and everyone stopped in respectful silence while she lost what was left of her noon meal. No one attempted to help her; that would have been an insult. In time she recovered, remounted her mu-lynx, and rode on, pale of face but looking straight and proud as ever. She said to no one in particular, "Why did they wait so long before destroying that boy? It should have been done after birth. The delay only made what had to be done that much harder, infinitely harder, I should say. For the love of a child only grows with time. They were fools. They made a terribly difficult task one which was almost impossible to do. Fools, fools!" She looked quickly at Darkcian and added, "And we're behaving the same way with you. Insane!" An hour later, they ran across a wide but shallow river. Patra dismounted here and washed her hands for a very long time. They stopped early that night. To Darkcian, it was as if the emotion of the day had drained them of energy. Rasp did not eat dinner. Instead he proceeded directly into his cupola to use the lok to call members of the council. He came back to sit with the others in about two hours. The fire had already died down to red embers by then, and the old warrior related the return message from the council. He spoke in low tones, as if someone else out there on the edge of night might overhear him. "Damn hard to hear the lok speak when you're awake, even when they boost the power for a direct communication. Still, I got through. They are very interested in our young student--he nodded toward Darkcian--and agree, so far, with our decisions regarding him. They'll also send out a message, asking if anyone else has information about him." Gravestone said, "Ah, that's a relief." His sigh was loud in the still night. Erendria bit out, "I never heard of anyone talking with the council without them giving back some kind of an order. What was ours?" Rasp smiled at her. "Their order is that we bring him to the thinker's city at the pole, the City-at-the-top-of-the-world. There they'll convene a council meeting to decide his fate." "Shit! Now every warrior on Agon knows of his weakness and our association with it," Erendria stated with force. "Watch your language, daughter," Patra ordered. Gravestone said, "Not every warrior, only those who overheard Rasp's call." "Word travels fast, even by mouth," Erendria retorted. "There's truth in that," Rasp said. An uneasy silence drifted over the group. "There's more," Rasp informed. "Shit," Erendria repeated, and her mother ignored the word this time. Rasp continued, "They spoke of a hunt on the other side of the mountains that we are approaching." Hunt? Darkcian wondered. "Damnation," Gravestone said. "That will draw all the young warriors for miles around who are trying to make names for themselves. What alien have they got this time?" "A Reaseian," Rasp said. "The large-fanged race?" Erendria asked, excited. Her wide-open eyes, illuminated by the red coals, looked almost black to Darkcian. "Yes," the old warrior confirmed. His eyes looked the same to Darkcian, black with hate and anger. "Forget it, daughter," Gravestone ordered. "We have other priorities, remember?" Darkcian watched as she clamped her mouth shut in a tight line. Gravestone continued, "If we go to the city at the pole, it will take a little over a month, as long as we don't tarry along the way. At our present location, it'll be a ride of about two thousand miles. In other words, we'll have to average about sixty miles a turn." Darkcian voiced his puzzlement. "I thought aliens weren't allowed on Agon?" Gravestone turned to his student. "Once an orbit, the thinkers, in collaboration with off-world Agonian warriors, bring in an alien for us to test our strength against. Not just any life-form will do. It must be dangerous and deadly. Many of Agon's warriors have died participating in these hunts. Once again, only the strong survive, thus enhancing the power of Agon." "Do any of the aliens survive?" Darkcian asked. "No. They are all hunted to death." No chance to survive! Darkcian said to himself . . . and added, like me. "Weren't you the champion of a hunt once, father-teacher?" He frowned. "That was long ago." It's obvious he doesn't want to speak of it, Darkcian observed silently. "It's a grand tale," Rasp volunteered. "Tell it to our young ones." "Yes, father-teacher. You're always so secretive about it." "Tell them, second-love, or she'll hound you until you do," Patra said. Why is my teacher's face so pale? "All right, all right. It's true. I was young and a fool, wanting to prove myself like all youths. They put a Wist on Agon during the start of The-Long-Day-Before-Winter. Your mother and I were in the area at the time and joined the hunt. The Wist killed twenty warriors before Patra and I tracked her down, and I killed her." "Her?" asked Darkcian. "A female Wist, the dangerous kind," Gravestone said reluctantly. "Dangerous how, father-teacher? With a knife?" "No, no. With their minds, daughter. You know that. Why are you taunting me?" He's afraid. Why? Erendria said, "I'm after the truth. That's all." Patra spoke sharply, "A little more respect in your tone, daughter." Gravestone touched his weapon's-complement's left hand. "It's all right, second-love. I'll speak of it." He turned to Erendria. "The only weapons that Wist females need are their hypnotic beauty and minds that can cut your soul apart. They are the master telepaths of the galaxy. We and one other race are the only known rationals that can stand before them. Somehow, sometimes, our rage can defeat them." Rasp volunteered, "The Wists are the spiders of the universe. They can lure you in with their terrible beauty, a beauty that's beyond description, and then rip apart your mind with their telepathic skill." He shuddered. "Awful creatures." He looked at Gravestone. "Tell the young ones of their great weakness." Gravestone nodded and kicked a glowing coal back into the pile. "Yes, they do have a weakness, a strange weakness. They are highly sexual creatures, easily aroused. And when aroused, they must mate. Only the strongest among them can resist it. Although of human genus, they can mate safely only with their own kind. For in mating with non-Wists--this has happened only rarely--they die of the most extreme ecstasy, a sexual climax a thousand, perhaps a million times normal." "Why?" Darkcian asked immediately, leaning forward. "Because they lose control of their mind-reading ability and focus in on the physical feelings of their partners. This amplified sexual response, in turn, is felt to a lesser degree by the partner and radiated back, reinforcing the original feelings. Once again, this now larger, more intense feeling is felt by the Wist and fed back again to the partner. This resonance builds in uncontrolled intensity until the Wist's mind explodes in a mental overload, destroying their psyche . . . and sometimes that of their partners. So great is this feedback that not even their powerful minds can resist it." Rasp added, "Yet with their brains gone, burned out, so to speak, their bodies live on. On, that is, until they give birth if impregnated. If not, they die at once. Somehow the spinal cord knows. Isn't that interesting?" He grinned. "Spiders," Patra growled. "Just like spiders." "They give birth and die?" Darkcian asked, incredulous. Gravestone nodded. "Yet this doesn't happen if they mate with their own kind?" Erendria asked. Gravestone replied, "Correct. The Wist males can block the feedback. And only they can." "How did you defeat your Wist?" Erendria asked. Suddenly the campfire flared up again, as if in a last sputter; and Darkcian saw into the heavy night beyond two eyes reflecting the red flames. These red dots blinked at them a few times, and he could hear a low-pitched growl from the creature, whatever it was. Gravestone snatched a burning stick from the fire and hurled it in the direction of the red eyes. The slanted orbs blinked once more and, even as the burning stick hit the ground to illuminate the area, were gone. There was nothing more to see. Darkcian turned his attention back to Gravestone. The older warrior looked slightly ill as he then answered his daughter's question by saying, "I strangled her with my bare hands." With that, he said no more.
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Copyright © 1992 L Clayton Bennett |