Upon a Savage Shore Ch. 18

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A transitional chapter. No sex or combat.
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Part 18 of the 23 part series

Updated 11/02/2022
Created 06/29/2014
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RipperFish
RipperFish
2,512 Followers

Author's note 9/13/2014: This is another transitional chapter and there is very little going on, but it does set the stage for what comes next in the story. Consider this the end of the second act.

Thanks to everyone sending messages or leaving comments. I'll try to have the next chapter ready by the middle of the week, but I can make no promises.


Chapter 18

"Clot'ilda, I need you!" M'pel E'kmel said in a soft but urgent voice.

"Yes Commander," Clot'ilda said instantly, though she was not fully awake. She rolled to her side, her head spun for a moment and then she sat up slowly. Next to her lay Tem'Ma'tel and Liam beyond her. Clot'ilda glanced at them with concern, but Commander M'pel E'kmel pulled her to her feet and led her out into the plaza. The sun had just risen above the peaks of the mountains to the east and the plaza was cast through with long shadows.

"We have a problem, I think," M'pel E'kmel said seriously. "Come to the wall with me. I will show you."

Clot'ilda followed her to the southwestern platform and looked out over the valley below. On the low hill where Liam had met with the Fauns stood a party of the strange nomadic folk with a number of their animals. They stood in an orderly formation and made no move to go beyond the white stave thrust into the soil. Clot'ilda looked up to M'pel E'kmel and frowned.

"Why are they there, Commander?"

"I do not know," M'pel E'kmel admitted.

"We should wake Liam," Clot'ilda said. "He will know what to do."

"Your mate is far too weak to deal with this at the moment. He will need at least another day to regain his strength." M'pel E'kmel handed Clot'ilda one of the qui'istle they kept leaning against the parapet. "I will go out to meet them. You must protect me if you can."

"I will," Clot'ilda assured her. "Will they speak to you?"

"It won't matter if they do," the commander said. "I won't be able to understand them."

"No, Commander. That is not what I meant," Clot'ilda said, laying her ears to the sides indicating she was uncomfortable with what she was about to say. "Will they speak to a female?"

"You have a point," M'pel E'kmel said. She considered for a few minutes and then picked up the other rifle, looking through its scope to examine the nomads. She paid close attention to what their males wore and how they adorned themselves. She had no beads or feathers, but perhaps she could make do with something else. And there were the hides she had been practicing with.

"Specialist, keep watch," M'pel E'kmel said in her most serious officer's voice. "If they should make a move towards us, call me. I will be below."

"Yes, Commander." Clot'ilda watched M'pel E'kmel stride quickly down the ramp out of sight. She wondered what the commander was planning, but turned her attention back to the Fauns on the hill. Other than shifting from one foot to another, they made no move. For an hour she watched them and then she heard M'pel E'kmel come up the ramp.

"Are they still there?" the commander asked.

"Yes, Comman..." Clot'ilda's voice failed her when she turned and caught sight of her officer.

M'pel E'kmel stood virtually naked at the head of the ramp. About her shoulders she had hung one of the blade-beast hides, using a length of silky white cord from the parachute to fasten it at her throat. Her golden fur was now streaked with charcoal black stripes, radiating from her throat down over her bare breasts. Her face was marked with similar stripes that started above her eyes and ended on either side of her muzzle. Her right hand was blackened in the traditional fashion of a jZav'Etch executioner. Her sex was covered only by a single blue and silver fish skin, held in place with another silky white cord about her waist. Through the cord was thrust Liam's combat knife and one of his EP 12s. In her hand she carried her favorite fish spear, made of two meters of smooth, white wood. She looked like she had just stepped out of one of the classic paintings depicting the Seductresses of N'har'an. The commander looked positively barbaric.

"Perhaps I will have the same effect on the Fauns when I go to speak to them," M'pel E'kmel said with a nervous smile. "I will take Rover with me. Should they try anything aggressive, kill as many as you can."

"I will, Commander," Clot'ilda said, giving her a firm nod. She wondered why the commander had changed her mind about killing these natives, but did not inquire. "May the Forger and Builder go with you."

***********

"Someone approaches," Stolk the young hunter said, drawing the attention of the elders.

"It is not he who killed Stilmnah," observed Sneisqlik.

"It is one of his mates," said Stolk.

"He does not wish to speak with us, perhaps," Seschiqal said.

"Perhaps he feels we are not to be trusted," Sneisqlik said.

"Or he is still angry," Qlikssuqss said quietly. As the chief's wife she could speak her mind freely, but normally chose to do so quietly. She felt it gave her words more weight when she needed to speak in her full voice.

"No matter," Seschiqal said. "We will treat this representative with respect. We do not wish to further anger them."

"Agreed," Sneisqlik said with a nod. "You speak with wisdom, cousin."

They continued to wait in silence until the being crested the top of the hill and approached the white staff. It was very obviously a female, with high, firm breasts larger than any the folk of the plains had ever seen. She strode through the tall grass with dignity and a confidence that was almost palpable. At her side came the large bull plainswalker that had accompanied the warrior to battle on the previous day. The bull's eyes flashed as he came to a halt next to his mistress and a snarl slithered through his teeth, his quills rattling a warning. The plainswalker was not pleased to see the folk.

"I am here," M'pel E'kmel said coolly. She was nervous, but refused to show even the slightest sign of it. With a sniff of the air she realized these people were afraid of her. Some were very afraid.

"It does not speak as the other did," Sneisqlik said.

"Does it matter?" Seschiqal asked. "We could not understand him, either."

"What do we do now?" Sneisqlik asked.

"For the sake of the Wandering Child," sighed Qlikssuqss. "May I approach her, my husband?"

"It is well my mate should do so," the chief agreed formally.

M'pel E'kmel narrowed her eyes at the female who stepped forward and bowed. She waited until the female straightened and then simply raised a haughty eyebrow. The effect of this was made more dramatic by the charcoal lines on her face. The female gulped and looked uncertain for a heartbeat or two, then she bowed again and spoke. M'pel E'kmel had no clue what the female was saying, but clearly she was trying to tell her something about the gathered animals and the goods upon them. The female paused, giving the commander a questioning look and then she went on, waving a young female and a youth forward. The young female knelt in the grass and pulled the youth down next to her.

"She does not understand what you are saying," Sneisqlik said, worried.

"I will make her understand, cousin," Qlikssuqss replied. The truth was she felt unnerved by the large, predatory creature that stood so stoically above her. She was accustomed to intimidating other females, not being intimidated by them.

The exchange of words between the male on the chief's left and the female that had been speaking about the animals and goods made M'pel E'kmel frown. She was getting the impression that there was some momentous thing happening, but only had the vaguest clue what it all meant. Then the older female took the hand of the younger female and pulled her to her feet. The older led the younger the few paces needed to reach the white staff and then held the young female's hand out to M'pel E'kmel. The young one looked more uncertain than frightened and the commander liked that very much. She smiled and took the proffered hand, drawing the young Faun up to stand next to her.

"She accepts!" Seschiqal said in relief. "Well done, my wife! Well done!"

M'pel E'kmel had a sudden inspiration and motioned for the youth to join what she assumed must be his mother. He hesitated for a heartbeat and then did so.

"Stay here," M'pel E'kmel ordered them, knowing they would not understand. Turning away from the pair she strode down among the nomads and the animals they were apparently offering to her. She looked over the animals, not knowing what to look for, but nodding with approval anyway. Then she turned to the chief and smiled without showing her teeth, so as not to frighten him. "These are all fine things, sir. If they are an offering, I accept. Thank you. Is there anything else?"

"She speaks in a courteous tone, whatever she's saying," Sneisqlik said softly.

"I think she accepts the stewardship of Sscuha and Chhal, at least," Seschiqal agreed. "Are you certain you will go with her, child?"

"My mind is made up," Sscuha replied. "The mighty one freed me of a burden. I will make his burdens lighter until my son is of age. Then we shall return to the folk of the plains."

"As you will," Seschiqal said solemnly. "May the Wandering Child watch over you."

"We are just across the valley if you need anything, Sscuha," Qlikssuqss said in her motherly way. "Come and visit whenever you like. I will teach you to bake the honey cakes of my mother. You will like them, I am sure."

More words of farewell were spoken before the nomads moved off down the hill, leaving M'pel E'kmel in possession of four large animals, two small natives and many other items she had no idea what to do with.

"Well, Rover, let's get them all back to the villa," she sighed. "I don't know how I will explain this to Sergeant Carter when he wakes up. I really don't."

***********

Laughter. Well, at least it was laughter and not shouting. Of course she hadn't told him everything yet, but for the moment Sergeant Carter was laughing.

"I really don't understand why it is so funny, Sergeant," M'pel E'kmel said tiredly.

"You would if you had a mirror," Liam gasped. Of all the things he might have expected to see when waking, M'pel E'kmel in war paint was not one of them. "Oh, it hurts. You should see yourself, though."

M'pel E'kmel sighed. Perhaps yelling would be preferable.

"You are going to reopen your wound if you continue to carry on so, Sergeant," she said. "I have not had an opportunity to wash yet."

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry." Liam gulped air and tried holding his breath. He forced himself to stop smiling, but when he looked at her again, he couldn't hold back another bout of laughter. It was just so ridiculous.

"Are you quite through?" she asked when his fit finally petered out. His response was more laughter. She endured it until he settled once more. "Shall I tell you how the meeting went?"

"Okay," he said and snickered.

"One of their females spoke to me. She seemed afraid," M'pel E'kmel told him. She went on to describe the rest of the encounter, waiting until the last to telling him of the young female and her son that she had brought back to the villa.

"Why the hell did you take them?" Liam asked, his good humor disappearing. "That's two more mouths to feed."

"Sergeant, you fail to see the advantage," she replied sedately.

"I guess I do, Commander. Why don't you explain the advantage to me?" he said sourly and struggled to his feet. Liam had intended to pace, but his side ached too much. He settled for scowling down at her.

"You really shouldn't be standing yet," she said. "The advantage of having these two join us is simple. They know this planet and we do not. They may know of more food sources. They will know things about the weather and the seasons we cannot know. And they are familiar with the pack and riding animals we now possess. We can learn things from them, Sergeant. And you should sit down before you fall down. Please, Sergeant, sit down."

Liam did, sliding down the wall to rest on his air mattress. He felt weak as a kitten anyway. Losing that much blood would take it out of anyone, not to mention the fight. He looked at the commander, thinking that she was right. The natives would know things the castaways could not know.

"Alright," he said at last. "Did you learn anything about them?"

"Aside from their names, which I cannot pronounce, no," she said and then reconsidered. "Actually that's not entirely true. I used one of your medical kits to give them each an examination. The kit didn't have much to go on and of course it was never designed for detailed analysis, but from the images of their vocal apparatus I believe they will be incapable of speaking either of our languages. Perhaps a few words from yours and few from ours. They won't be conversant, though."

"So we'll have to learn their language," Liam grumbled.

"You may be able to speak a few words of it," she told him. "I don't think you can become anything even remotely like fluent, though. We jZav'Etch will not be able to speak it at all. We cannot whistle and the kinds of clicks they make would be very difficult for us to imitate."

"We can't talk to them?"

"I haven't had very much time to consider this situation, Sergeant," M'pel E'kmel said uncomfortably. "I don't know. The only thing that has occurred to me is that we cannot actually carry on a conversation with Rover, either. Yet we speak to him regularly and he understands simple instructions."

"I'm not treating intelligent people like dogs, Commander."

"I don't suggest we do," she said mildly. "However, if a simple animal can learn what a handful of English words and a few from two jZav'Etch dialects mean, then surely we higher animals can learn what the pops, whistles and clicks of these natives mean."

Liam sat quietly considering the predicament and the commander's solution for a minute. Finally he said, "You know, my grandfather used to love ancient movies. He had a big collection of them. Made me watch dozens of the things when I would visit. One of them was this ridiculous fantasy about a farm kid going off and defeating an evil empire by blowing up this big space station shaped like a ball."

"I'm sure it was very entertaining, but how does this relate to our communication difficulties?" M'pel E'kmel asked, puzzled.

"I'm getting there," chuckled Liam. "The farm boy met up with a pair of smugglers who took him to where he was going. They ended up becoming friends. Anyway, these smugglers were a human and a big harry thing that couldn't speak English. The human just talked to it and it would moan and yodel and growl and the human understood him."

"I see," she said, narrowing her eyes. "So in ancient theater of your people, there is a kind of precedent for what I propose?"

"Seems like," Liam said. "I can't think of anything else to try."

"Well, in that case, Sergeant, if you are feeling strong enough, let us go and introduce you to our new residents. Then we can get some food into you. You need some meat, I think. And we should wash those fatigues. The blood already smells."

***********

"What will we do with them?" Clot'ilda wondered. She and Tem'Ma'tel sat in the shade of the little rain shelter Liam had constructed on the southwestern platform. Tem'Ma'tel had recovered from her injuries at least as well as Clot'ilda and both were nearly themselves again. Neither showed any outward signs of the ordeal they'd gone through.

"I do not know," Tem'Ma'tel admitted. "They seem very confused. The young one is curious, but he smells frightened."

"They both do," said Clot'ilda, looking down into the plaza where the natives sat in the shade of one of the fruit trees on the nearside of the stream. "Should we go down and speak to them?"

"I do not think that is wise," said the marine. "I am considerably larger than either of them. And we are predators as far as they are concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"Obviously they descend from plant eaters," Tem'Ma'tel pointed out. "We do not."

"True," Clot'ilda agreed. "I still feel we should make them as welcome as we can."

"Go down and offer them fruit, then," suggested the larger female. "You are no taller than they are. Small, even for a Pah'Tht."

Clot'ilda scowled up at her sister, but saw the flick of Tem'Ma'tel's ears and smiled. She was only teasing.

"You are also First of Household SarJ'ant," Tem'Ma'tel reminded her. "It is your place."

"Yes it is," Clot'ilda agreed and then her shoulders sagged, her ears drooped and her little tail flicked inside her trousers.

"What is wrong?" the dTel'Qohar asked.

"I am First of Household and I was unable to save you yesterday."

"Of course you were unable to save me," said Tem'Ma'tel gently. "You were attacked first, sister. I was unable to prevent it. I should apologize to you."

"You kept them from taking me before Rover got me away from them," Clot'ilda replied earnestly. "You did save me. It almost cost your life. I did nothing to help you. I only ran away."

"That is not true," the marine said firmly and took her sister's hand. "You called for help. Injured and unable to fight, you still had the wherewithal to call for our Guardian. If you had given in to your pain, SarJ'ant would not have been so quick to come and rescue me. In large measure you were as important in my rescue as he."

Clot'ilda looked up into her sister's eyes and then leaned in and hugged her. Tem'Ma'tel, unaccustomed to such open displays of affection, hesitated for a moment. Then with a purr, she put her arms around her sister, returning the hug. It was good to have family.

***********

"Mother," Chhal said, looking up into his mother's face. "Why did you decide to come here?"

"Because I think it is best for us," Sscuha said simply.

"But why do you think it is best?" Chhal asked. "There is little grass here. Too many stones. It looks as though this place died many seasons ago."

"And like the grass after a fire it begins to live again," she said. "See how the trees have been attended? See how the water flows clear? See the plainswalker that lounges in the sun? These people are changing this place from bare stone to a proper kraal. And we have brought them landstriders. Soon this place will live once more."

"But why did you want to come to these people?" he asked again.

Sscuha regarded her son for a moment, debating on what to tell him. He was growing up quickly and in a few seasons would be an adult. Best if he understood.

"You have seen the feathers of smoke in the sky," she said finally. "The Old Tales tell of times when feathers of smoke have come in the past. Times when danger and strife for the folk of the grasslands and marshes was great. Times when the Wandering Child had much to do and could not watch over all the folk of the world. In those times the wise folk relied upon strong protectors."

"But our hunters are strong," he argued. "We should return to them. They will protect us."

"Our hunters are strong," she conceded. "Stilmnah was among the strongest, yet he was slain by this warrior. These stone walls are much stronger than the hide walls of our huts. This hill is higher than the mounds on which the High Grass folk camp. Even the warrior's mates are stronger than our folk. We have seen this. How many hunters have been struck in the head with bolas as the large one was and were up and walking the next day?"

RipperFish
RipperFish
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