Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 23

"Halt!" Sergeant Yung called out. "Close up! Hornet!"

Neither Zhair'lo nor any of his fellow Recruits knew what "Hornet" meant, but they all understood the order to "close up". With only ten metres to cover, they raced up to the women and found themselves immediately surrounded by two circles of Fighters; an inner one made of women with bows drawn and an outer protective layer of sword-wielding men.

"What did you see, Aloe?" Sergeant Yung called over his shoulder, never taking his attention away from the section of forest he faced.

One of the women along the north side of the path, the side facing the city, lowered her bow and looked past the swordsmen in front of her.

"Someone crossed this path," she said. "There are footprints. Thin, bare feet. Possibly a young boy but probably a woman. She was walking unevenly, possibly carrying a poorly balanced load - or maybe injured - I can't tell for sure."

"Well spotted, Aloe," a deep, female voice said.

Zhair'lo whirled around to see that it was Ji'ann who had spoken. He had never heard a woman speak with such a low tone. Her voice almost seemed to warble and roll, despite the fact that she had only spoken three words.

As she continued to speak, Zhair'lo marvelled at the sound.

"I don't see any sign of pursuit, do you?"

"No," Aloe agreed.

"It can't have been more than a bell since the last patrol," Ji'ann said. "So she can't be far. We'll have to go in and find her."

"Through that?" Kit whispered apprehensively.

Zhair'lo didn't think the forest in that direction would be too hard to track through, but he'd spent a lot of time chasing game with the Hunters. Kit, apparently, had a different impression.

"Do you want send anyone on to the waystation?" Sergeant Yung asked. "We're expected in a quarter bell."

Ji'ann thought about this a moment.

"Send two pairs," she decided. "The rest - and the Recruits - stay with us."

Sergeant Yung wasted no time, picking out two male and two female Fighters to send on. In a flash, the four of them were off.

"Wow," Kit gasped, watching them run. "I guess we're really holding them back, huh?"

Sergeant Yung turned to the Recruits so sharply that Kit jumped back, expecting a rebuke. The Sergeant, however, had no time for anything like that.

"Listen closely. Finding people who have violated the city's territory is one of our most important responsibilities, but it's not one you've been trained for. You stay in the middle, just as you have so far, and watch your step. A forest is nothing like a road."

He spared one glance at Kit and gave a smirking nod at the boy's shoulder before going on, "Not that you've even got roads figured out yet."

"Form up!" he called out, turning away from the Recruits.

The patrol reformed with six veterans in front and six behind the Recruits. Zhair'lo couldn't tell if these were the same who had been in front and behind earlier, or if they had silently resorted themselves upon the loss of four of their fellows. Either was possible with this bunch.

The one called Aloe, though, was definitely in front. Zhair'lo could hear her talking to Sergeant Yung.

"She certainly wasn't trying to hide. Either in a panic or delirious. Anyone could follow this trail."

"Lead us, then," Ji'ann said.

The forest was easy for Zhair'lo. As much as the Hunters might spend most of their time sitting in a blind or a tree, waiting for prey, they also navigated a lot of dense forest. He got through nimbly, while his colleagues frequently let out grunts and moans of complaint.

"Stupid thorns," Renzi remarked, only minutes later.

Difficult though it was to stay in formation as they were spread out by the topology of the forest floor, Zhair'lo still knew where to look for Renzi. The boy was to Zhair'lo's left, where he always was. Renzi frowned at Zhair'lo and gestured to his legs, which were already covered in angry, red scratches from the tops of his boots to just above his knees. The real Fighters, covered as they were, had no such problems. Looking around for the rest of the Recruits, he saw that the girls, while a bit more nimble, were fairing little better than Renzi. Kit and Z'rus, meanwhile, looked worse.

"Just step on the branches as you go over them," Zhair'lo told him before turning back to the trail.

"We're getting closer," Aloe remarked, deep concern and eagerness mixing in her voice. "She must have been more badly injured than I thought. And she kept turning around to see if anyone was following her."

"No sign of blood, though," Sergeant Yung pointed out, following closely on Aloe's heels.

"No, but the footprints are getting much closer together. She was badly hobbled."

The forest was getting thicker, slowing down even the veterans as they had to contend with fallen trees and sections of dense, impassable brush. As a consequence, the entire group had squeezed up to within whispering distance of each other.

"There!" Aloe shouted, and then, in a hushed whisper, "Nine gods!"

"Guard Six," Sergeant Yung called back.

Zhair'lo was peripherally aware that the six people remaining in the rear squad had turned about to face back the way they had come, a watch against potential pursuit. Zhair'lo's attention, however, was almost entirely on the pile of rags with a human face that had nestled itself into the crook of a tree. Zhair'lo had never seen a human being so damaged. Half of her face - he was pretty sure it was a woman - was bruised into purple. Only one eye could open properly and it was staring at them in wild-eyed fear. It was obvious, from that frightened look, that the woman was incapable of moving - she would clearly already be running if it was up to her.

Aloe waved her comrades back and went down on one knee beside the woman.

"It's alright," she said, her voice going softer than Zhair'lo had ever imagined it could. She removed her leather helmet before adding, "You're safe now, with us."

Aloe's soothing voice had an immediate effect: some of the wild-eyed panic in the woman's expression dissipated. The ability to manipulate people with her voice, Zhair'lo knew, was one of the benefits a woman gained from Facial upgrades.

"Can you speak? Do you understand me?"

Even under the pile of rags that was her clothing, Zhair'lo could see by the set of woman's shoulders how quickly Aloe was getting through.

The woman nodded slowly and mumbled a word that might have been, "Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Merelda."

"Merelda. is the baby alright?"

Zhair'lo started. He had taken the woman for slightly overweight, what with the dirty clothing distended over her belly. So enraptured had he been by her damaged face, he hadn't spared a glance to notice that there was a very small child, heavily swaddled, constituting the majority of her girth. The woman herself was rather thin, almost unhealthily so.

"I think so," Merelda replied. "He didn't hit the baby."

Ji'ann took a break from scanning the forest to step in behind Aloe. "Who did this to you?"

Merelda twitched slightly, hearing the deep voice and seeing the larger woman looming over her.

"M-my husband."

Zhair'lo's mind went blank, the way one's mind does when someone randomly throws syllables together and parks the combination in the middle of a sentence. "Husband" was a verb, rarely used, referring to the managing of a group of animals. He'd only ever heard the word used when playing board games. What in the names of the nine gods was a thing or a person doing with such a title?

"He thought the child was not his!" Merelda sobbed. "But it is his! I swear it is!"

"Monogamy," Ji'ann spat before stepping away to give Aloe and Merelda more space.

Zhair'lo felt his brain twitch. 'Husband' went with 'wife' then, did it? Talla had known the latter, but not the former.

"It's alright," Aloe said, her voice calm as a stream of water trickling over a smooth, wide ford. "It doesn't matter whether it was his or not. He had no right to do this to you."

Merelda's breathing became more regular again.

"How is your foot? May I see it?"

From out of the ragged clothing, Merelda painfully extended a dirt-blacked limb covered with purple bruises and red rashes.

"We can splint the ankle, but you should not walk any farther," Aloe said. She turned to Ji'ann, "We'll need a stretcher then, too."

Ji'ann was still facing away, keeping an eye on the forest. She merely turned her head toward Sergeant Yung and gave him a small, upward tic of her chin. That was enough for him to start calling out orders.

Machetes were drawn from backpacks and the men set to work hacking up tree limbs. Small pieces were handed first to Aloe, who fashioned them into a splint and went to work tying up the woman's shin and ankle. Separately, a pair of longer and stronger tree limbs were hewn and laid out. A pair of brass bars, with clamps on their ends, appeared from somewhere, to be fastened to the limbs. A blanket was stretched over and wrapped around this three metre long rectangle and pinned underneath.

Zhair'lo was impressed by how well the Fighters had optimized this procedure. They carried just enough pre-made equipment with them to get this working very quickly, and had a stretcher arranged next to the injured woman in only moments. Aloe, for her part, had completed and fastened the splint at the same time.

"What's going on up there?" Kit asked, forcing Zhair'lo to tear his eyes away from the scene. He hadn't realized that the others were far enough behind him that they couldn't see what was happening.

"We've found an injured woman," he explained. "They've made a stretcher for her and her baby."

"Baby?" Bree winced.

"Yeah. Super tiny."

Aloe was speaking again.

"You'll have to let me carry the baby, Merelda," Aloe asked. "The stretcher is too narrow."

It surprised Zhair'lo that the woman surrendered her baby with only the tiniest bit of reluctance. Maybe it was the smooth tones in Aloe's voice; maybe it was desperation of her situation.

"Have you given the child a name?" Aloe asked, in a suspiciously casual, conversational sort of way.

"He was to be named after his father -"

Ji'ann's deep timbered voice cut in, almost too sharply, "He deserves no such honour. I advise you to choose another."

Aloe's eyes turned toward her superior, imploring her toward gentleness.

Merelda closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as two of the Fighters lifted her onto the stretcher. She gasped when Ji'ann and one of the men grabbed the end poles and lifted her off the ground.

"I choose?" she caught her breath.

Aloe spared one handle from the bundle of sleeping baby in her arms to reach out a hand and touch Merelda's wrist.

"You are in our city. You crossed the line back on that road. Here, it is a woman's choice to name her child."

It seemed to Zhair'lo, as the stretcher passed him, that Merelda had never even imagined such a responsibility falling to her..

"I - I couldn't-"

"Did you carry the child for many months?" Ji'ann spoke over her the massive bundle of muscle that was her shoulder.

"I -"

"Did you go through the pain of childbirth?"

"Yes, but -"

"Then surely your effort is the larger," Ji'ann finalized. "Give the child the name of an honourable man."

As the other Recruits stood with their mouths open in shock, Zhair'lo couldn't resist but to follow along with the stretcher as they made their way back out of the forest. How would this play out? For her part, Merelda was wincing theatrically, probably stalling for time.

"An honourable man?"

"Yes," Aloe said, smoothly cutting in before Ji'ann could frighten the injured woman any further.

Merelda closed her eyes thoughtfully and Zhair'lo tried to judge the tumult of emotions warring across her face. It was such chaos, though, and with her face so battered he could read nothing.

"Willow," she said suddenly.

"Pardon?" Aloe said.

"Willow."

"Like ... the tree?"

"Yes."

"Is that a common name where you are from?"

Merelda only shook her head and closed her eyes.

---===================----

"The head is crowning, Imminence," Within said, her voice flat and clinical. "Once or twice more, at most."

The Goddess, standing partially bent over with her hands on her bed, looked over her shoulder to glare at her Sorceress, trying not to take her anger out on an innocent bystander.

Every jerk of her head and twist of her body was throwing blue sparks from every piece of hair on her body. She could feel the force of her life flowing out of her - the Perfections taking more than their usual toll in this time of extreme stress.

She sensed another contraction on its way, hard on the heels of the last one.

"Ready, Imminence," an Adept whispered. "Count, now."

The Goddess gritted her teeth and pushed, while the Adept counted.

"Teh. Ren."

The damned Adept was counting too slowly, that was the nine-rutting-gods-damned problem.

"Ya. Po. Ji."

Eleven upgrades or not, this was the most difficult childbirth of her life.

"Yit."

And she'd already had three children, an accomplishment in itself.

"Mar."

This had better be the last contraction.

"Su."

Where in the nine hells was that baby?

"Ni."

Did it want to be born or not!

"Jek!"

"Gah!" the Goddess shouted as relief flooded her body.

"I have the baby," Within announced, completely unnecessarily. "A boy."

An attendant was at hand to quickly wipe the baby down, even as the Goddess rolled over onto her back on a set of pillows laid out to let her recline on the bed. A few heartbeats later, the baby was laid upon her sweating, golden chest.

With the natural rooting instinct of a freshly minted human being, it found her nipple easily and began suckling.

"His skin is gold," she remarked.

"Apply traction gently," Within was saying. "The placenta will ease out with the next few contractions. The breastfeeding will help with that."

She looked up at the Goddess, momentarily bewildered.

"Sorry, Imminence?"

"The child's skin," the Goddess repeated, smiling down at the suckling infant, "is golden."

"Ah, yes. Apparently, that's normal. It will last a few hours - longer in girl children. No worries."

Her body still pulsing away as it cleaned itself out, the Goddess stroked the child.

"His name," she added, "will be Magnus."

"That will be in our records, Imminence," one of the women of Pussy said, "but you know of course that no one will ever call him by that name."

Of course not. He would be taken to another city and substituted in for a stillborn child, or one who died shortly after birth, and given the name of that child. As quickly as possible, Magnus would be separated from that child's birth mother as well. Such was the way of the Pussy genealogists and their necessary machinations.

But, 'no one will ever call him by that name'?

That was almost true.

One woman would always call him by that name, and that would have to do.

---===================----

"Talla, you alright?"

Talla was kneeling on the proving grounds in Form's square, clutching her stomach.

A moment later, the pain was gone.

Warily, she stood up, expecting at any moment, as she hit some threshold of abdominal muscle stretching, the pain would return.

When she was fully erect, she looked around in confusion. There was no trace of the pain that had brought her to the ground.

"I'm fine, I guess," she said to her fellow trainee.

But a moment later Gillian, the head instructor, was looming over her.

"You, there! What happened?"

Talla stood as straight as she could.

"I don't know, Mistress. A pain came and left very suddenly."

How many upgrades did Gillian have? Wasn't she an Officer? The woman was absolutely huge and terrifying.

"You felt this just moments ago?"

Talla hesitated.

"I've been feeling a little bit off all morning," she said. "But the worst pain came and went just moments ago."

Gillian frowned and stared at Talla for a few heartbeats.

"You are well enough now to continue training?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Be about it, then," she turned on her heel.

---===================----

Zhair'lo had a vague sense that some dramatic pain had overcome Talla, but the stabbing sensation in his abdomen was an order of magnitude smaller than what she had felt.

Proceeding with the stretcher-bearing retinue, he and the other Recruits were making their way out of the forest.

"Where did she come from?" Kit wondered.

"Outside the city," Renzi answered.

"Thanks, genius."

Renzi made a rude gesture.

"I mean, does she come from another city?"

"Not likely," Zhair'lo put in. "Were you listening?"

"I wasn't as close as you were, Zhai."

By this point, even the girls were gathered close.

"Those bruises she has are from her 'husband'," Zhair'lo turned to face them all. "Do you know what a husband is?"

"It's a title," Bree cut in, "that Barbarian men use when they take ownership of women. He's the 'husband' and she's the 'wife'."

"Husband," Del snorted. "Like we're animals and men are the shepherds."

"Crack his skull, if I get the chance," Zia put in, quite unnecessarily.

"As you can see," Tara smirked. "It's not a popular term. I'm surprised you guys weren't taught about it."

Zhair'lo held his tongue, wishing he could point out that there were a lot of areas where the Temple left men in dark ignorance.

"So," Kit spoke with a great deal of wariness toward the female members of the contingent. "Not from the city, then? The wives and the husbands?"

Tara nodded, throwing Kit an unusually belligerent sneer and making Zhair'lo think it was time to get back on the march.

Surprisingly, the veteran Fighters were not paying any attention to the Recruits, who were bringing up the rear behind the stretcher. In a way, it made sense, even to Zhair'lo: the threat, if there was one, was coming from outside the city. By keeping the eight Recruits behind the stretcher while the veterans were out front, the least experienced were the farthest from danger.

Still, Zhair'lo found it odd, after so many days of intense control and training to suddenly be without any supervision at all.

That disturbed him more than anything. How had they done that to him? Before coming out to the edge of civilization, he'd been ready to bring down the Temple. And after two (or was it three?) weeks of indoctrination, he now quailed at a lack of orders.

It was at that moment, as he set his jaw and determined that he would salvage some remnant of himself, that he heard Sergeant Yung's cry.

"Fighters! To The Fore!"

That galvanized Zhair'lo faster than lightning could have. He bolted past the stretcher bearers in order to keep up with the veterans who were sprinting to the edge of the forest. Aloe, who had been standing beside the stretcher, had already thrust the baby into the arms of Tara and was running just ahead of him. It was only then that he realized how trivial the previous jog had been for a woman like her. Her movements were the most graceful, violent actions he had ever seen a human take. She leapt over branches, hopped off logs and danced around thorn branches as if she were a wild thing - but a wild thing with a knocked arrow in her bow.

How could she move so well with her hands full? Zhair'lo knew his way around a forest, but nothing like the fighting women in front of him. For his own part he didn't draw his bow until he hit the edge of the forest, all the time wondering if this would be his first meeting with the enemies the Temple feared so much.

The first to meet his eyes were the backs of the women. They had lined up at the near tree line, half concealed, widely but evenly spaced, with their bows drawn and aimed across the wide road. In front of them were the men, swords ready, also spaced out in some kind of battle line.