Thoughts on a Deserted Coast Pt. 01

One tried to flank him anyway, but she jumped to his offhand side and the thing stopped and looked at her, caught in a moment of indecision. She raised her blade and it drew back warily.

"Too late," she laughed and she swung both of her of her swords toward the middle as hard as she could.

Bang-bang, and there was nothing from the waist back and then the head was mostly off.

One of her arms ached from the force of the impact, but being pissed had never felt so good to her.

The last of them leaped straight at his throat with a horrible wavering growl.

His reaction was a blur as he drew the blade all the way back to point it for his lunge, his free hand clamping down on the long haft, right at the end, and he lunged forward to meet the last one.

That one took almost the full length of her sword from him, almost all the way in, stopping just shy of the guard being pressed to the creature's breast.

The beast was stopped; looking like it had been skewered in mid-air, which it had been, of course. But the dark one held carefully and as the creature dropped, he held the grip still, following the motion all the way down as far as he could before ripping back just before it landed.

The last sound that the creature made was a soft and blubbering sigh of death.

She looked at him from the rear quarter, his ribs still moving, but not heaving so much now. Her blade was still there in his hand, pointing almost down with the blood of the thing running from it.

She saw him look downward for a long moment and she wondered if it was his way of thanking his gods for his fortune or if he was only replaying what had happened to analyse it.

He turned around as she walked to him, pulling her mask down and pulling back her hood while taking the bag off to give it back to him. He nodded in thanks then, still looking down and he eased himself down somewhat painfully onto his knees.

He opened the bag and reached inside.

She saw the little hand move from where she stood, but she could see that it was lethargic in it's motions.

Marishe heard the little voice again, "Adat ... Adat."

He lowered his face and she saw the little head as he kissed it and spoke a few soft words in a rough-sounding tone that had been meant to sound soothing before it caught in his throat.

He closed the bag and put his arm through the strap again, settling the bag against his side gently. When he raised his head, she saw his tears.

He looked at her blade and with nothing else to do it with, he carefully clamped his thumb and forefinger onto it and very slowly wiped the last of the blood away.

She noticed that even then, he was looking down as he held up her blade in both hands and offered it back to her, saying something in a language that she didn't understand in a quiet voice.

He looked up then and their eyes met.

She found that she'd lost the ability to breathe for a long moment.

He was very handsome. Probably more so than any other Bishran that she'd ever seen, and where she lived, she pretty much knew them all or had at least seen them.

Yet there was something there in that face which spoke to her just a little differently than she might have expected.

He was male - that much was evident, she'd decided, having watched what he had swing as he'd fought while she'd stood behind him.

And he was a Bishran, she reminded herself - which she liked very much about him.

But that face was more than handsome for anybody, Bishran or not.

It had it's share of rugged hard lines, especially in the middle of a fight, but she thought that she could see something else besides that. She guessed that he had the necessary amount of male hormones as well, but something that she liked was that they didn't seem to be exactly bubbling out of his ears either.

His short smoky fur was looking better to her by the second, even half -covered in the sprayed blood that he wore.

She wanted to smile. He had a forelock hanging just above his eyes.

Those eyes - his eyes were so dark.

And so darkly beautiful and mysterious. She looked, but she couldn't tell where the irises ended and the pupils began.

She realized then that he was a breed that she'd never seen before - beside it being somewhat obvious in what he'd done. Compared to the several types that she knew were here, he was one of the smaller ones.

Well, she considered, what was known as small was a measure that the Bishran themselves applied and to others, it often made no sense. One they called large seemed to mean wide.

What she saw was that he was lean but tall, guessing that they stood at the same height, and she was considered tall for a Sangan girl.

Remembering that he must be in some pain, she stepped forward, reaching back for one of her scabbards and she drew it forward, slipping the strap over her head.

She touched the hand which held the haft of her sword and took it from him only long enough to slide it into the scabbard before she knelt down herself, shaking her head slowly as he stared.

She placed the sheathed blade back into his hands.

"You shouldn't travel these lands without at least one of these. You keep that one," she said slowly and quietly in the speech used by the colony, "I have another at my home and I have -"

She sighed as she looked into those eyes.

"I have never seen anyone use a blade like that before - not in my life. So it would honor me that you keep it, friend."

He pushed back, but only for a moment until he understood. He looked at her in some awe himself and then she guessed that he must have heard and learned of her speech somewhere in his past. She didn't recognise his accent, but she loved to hear it from the very first word.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head again, "for your help to save my child. Thank you for the gift of your fine blade, and thank you - for my life. "

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes then, his mouth opening a little for a moment, as though he was struggling a little himself.

"I have never seen anyone who can do as you have with a bow."

She smiled, "I had fortune not to miss."

He shook his head only once.

"I come from a people who use the bow," he said, "I know what it was that I saw."

She watched a small smile come to his face very slowly before he spoke, "You do not ever miss, do you?"

She smiled back and gave him a little shrug. "No.

I didn't save you," she said, "You saved yourself. You only needed a sword.

I was happy to give it."

He shrugged as though he didn't wish to argue the finer points of the distinction with her, "But you came when you saw that you were needed. Another few moments ..."

He thanked her again and he took her hand, "I am Cynn Harresheen. I am -"

He looked down for a moment, "I was, of the Stone Mountain kingdom."

She must have stood with a strange look on her face.

She'd heard of it.

Once.

"And who is this?" Marishe asked.

He looked down, "My daughter, Chira. Youngest of my children."

His voice cracked as he finished it, "The last one living."

She felt that she must have looked foolish then because she knew that she was staring at him. "You ... you were telling me her name, weren't you?"

He nodded.

"You didn't expect to live. You were telling me her name so that ... I'd know what to call her after you were ... "

"There are no other Stone Mountain Bishran anymore," he said softly.

She looked down for a moment, "I have never met a man like you."

"Chira is our word for hope," he said with some emotion, "I see that you are a seasoned warrior, so you might understand. Aside from our family name, her whole name is Cama-ish-Chira."

He sighed, though it sounded more like a pained groan to her.

"The last hope."

Marishe didn't know what to say then.

They looked at each other while the breeze played with his forelock as it also blew her long hair around her.

"I see that you are weary," she said, "And I make no light of it. Please - there is no rush now. Take a few moments to rest. I have some water in a skin."

He nodded, as though saying anything would be using too much of what he might have left.

She pointed, "Why not let little Chira have a drink also?"

He opened the satchel as far as he could and after a few quiet words, Marishe lost a little of her heart as she saw a very small Bishran girl step out a little unsteadily on spindly legs. She was dark and so very pretty and she came to Marishe almost at once, as though she needed to see her properly now.

She chittered a little, but Cynn spoke to her and Marishe supposed that he said that she didn't speak their language well or at all.

She held out her waterskin and Chira drank a little as she helped by holding it for the girl. Marishe reached into her small pack and produced some jerky and she offered it them both.

Cynn wanted to know what it was and she guessed that they must have had something at least a little similar. "It's meat, lightly cooked, salted and then hung in a smokehouse. It's chewy and it keeps for a long time. I always keep some for when I stand the duty at the gates, like today.

I'll cut her a little piece and you tell her not to swallow it right away but to chew it well. Tell her that chewing is the best part."

She smiled, "I usually end up giving most of it away to the children who come to talk with me. They like it a lot."

Chira did as well, but needed a little more water afterward. Marishe and Cynn began to speak then and Chira started to explore a little.

"I was hunting alone, which was our way to say that really, I was out in the country, seeing how the people fared and learning of what was happening at our borders. I travelled a little-used path to get to the farthest holdings and I saw no one for the day that it took to get there.

I found only my people there, all dead and torn, the sky dark from the smoke of the burning buildings. Everywhere that I looked, I found none alive, not even small ones.

I retraced my steps as fast as I could run and as I made my way back, I saw only the dead and more ashes. When I came back to my home, the whole mountain had been burned - every bush and tree. The castle lay broken and there were only more and more of the dead.

He said, "That was two hundred and thirty-four days ago. I wandered, wondering why I should go on with the bother of living.

My life - all that I knew - was ashes. I went where I found the ones who had done it and I slew many, so many. I thought that the world might never be rid of their foulness. These ones here, they were the last that I could find.

Really" he smiled, "they found me.

I would prefer to be able to say that I found them in my search, but it is truth to say that they found me as I tried to take my daughter to an old friend who lives on the coast. Chira grows weaker with each day. I tell her not to use her power, but she sometimes does and like this, she loses consciousness afterward sometimes."

Marishe nodded, "I think that I saw some of this. We faced three, her and I and there was no way to use my blade in enough time. Chira held out her hand and the nearest beast was held in her spell. Then it was gone, and I don't know where it went."

He nodded, "I think that I know what she would have done. She put it down."

Marishe tilted her head, "I don't understand. Down how?"

Cynn shrugged, "She put it under the ground, usually deep."

Marishe stared, "But she's just a little-"

He nodded, "Yes. She gets this from me. I taught her this to amuse her, but she can use it for other things as you saw."

He smiled, "I must have been about her age when I learned to do this. My mother would tell me to help the gardener clean up the courtyard."

Marishe found that she liked it when he shrugged while he was smiling. It showed her what he must have looked like as a boy. Her guess would have been that he was the sort of boy who had a head full of mischief, but her mother must have found out that no matter how he challenged her, she couldn't have stayed angry with him for very long. One soulful look from those eyes and she was probably done, she thought.

"The poor gardener always waited eagerly for me at those times. The courtyard would be such a mess with leaves and twigs and whatever the wind blew over the walls. I would wave my hands and the work was done. When I was a little older, he'd take me to the tavern afterwards and we would stay all afternoon.

He was a very handsome man who always said that it was thirsty work. When I was of age, the next time that I helped him and we went to the tavern, he rented a room and showed me how thankful he felt.

I fell in love with him and the courtyard never looked so good after that."

She smiled and he went on with his story.

"In a little time, I found myself near my home again and I found the bodies of some few whom I knew. They had not died long before, so I knew then that at least some had lived for a time. They had hidden themselves in a cave.

I looked for others then and I found my wife in the middle of the bodies of a few from the castle. Among them, I saw my children."

He stopped for a moment to wipe his eyes.

"But then I saw that she lived, though not for much longer. She had been with child, this little one and even wounded as she was, she'd birthed her alone.

She ... she passed soon after and I was left with the only other of my kind that I know of. I gave her the only name that I had in me to give.

It took me two days, but I found a ewe who had lost her kid. She still had milk, so I took her along. That lasted only several days before we were found.

The ewe was in terror and would not follow me. She stood in fear and ran the wrong way at the end. I had to leave her and I took Chira and ran from them myself because of her."

He sighed, "I was taught when I was very young that there are few differences between our kinds, friend. The sameness is more on the inside and what differences we have are mostly on the outside.

You have two legs while we have four, we have our fur and you do not have our teeth, but the rest ...

I know that the little ones of your kind are helpless for much longer. Our young stand in minutes after finding their legs and can walk in a few minutes more. They begin to speak in about thirty days. Chira is less than fifty days old and already she does well for one so young, though I suppose now ...

She will have to learn a different tongue if we stay where you will lead us."

Marishe shook her head a little, "I think it's the same language but yours is an older way. I heard Chira call you. It took me some time with all of the fighting, but I remembered the word. It's still used here, so not all of the language is different. I don't think it will be like learning something different. Please go on with your tale, Cynn."

"We walked when we could," he said, "but she is so small and has had nothing but water and what grass I could find in the dust. She is weakening. These beasts saw me and I have been running for almost two days. Whenever I thought that I had outpaced them, I slowed a little to rest and they came again.

I had only a sword that I picked up in a burned village. That broke the first time that I tried to fight them."

She looked at him a little curiously, "You said your people."

He nodded, "It does not matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore for me but my daughter. Before that day, I was a prince. Now, I am nothing."

They heard Chira playing and watched for a time. She'd found a stick and grasping it in the middle, she held it vertically and stepped or skipped around a little, holding the stick up toward the dead bodies there.

"Ta," she said, "Ta - Ta ... Ta."

"She imitates you," he smiled.

Marishe nodded, "She's very good too. I think that she'd come to the bow quite naturally."

He looked at her and then at his daughter, "How do you mean?"

Marishe smiled and shrugged, "It's not that hard with imaginary arrows, but even so, she hasn't missed yet."

A minute or so later, the little girl had changed her grip, holding the stick at one end like a sword as she danced a little and swung, complete with her charming sound effects.

"Now she's imitating you," Marishe chuckled, "I think that you should be proud to have such a fierce girl."

"You think so?" he asked.

Marishe nodded, "Oh yes. Look at her go. She's beating the stuffing out of somebody. She's already better than some of the newer ones in the guard."

Chira went on, sword fighting against corpses. She tried to imitate the way that her father had cantered sideways and turned suddenly to take a foe unawares. But she was just a little girl and she ended up with her legs like a few tent poles stuck in a bag, almost twisted together.

She teetered for a moment, a little wide-eyed.

"Oooh! Oooooo!", she exclaimed and then she fell over.

Marishe grinned, "Chira! Bee-ka-pikka! ooOOOHOOooo!"

Chira stared back for a moment - and then she laughed and giggled.

"How do you know these words?" Cynn asked.

Marishe shrugged as she smiled over, "I'm magical."

"I can see this," he laughed a little.

She shook her head, "I don't know what it means. It's just something that Chira said. You killed that one that you cut right in two and I guess she must have been watching."

He nodded, "The sound is just what she makes in surprise or often only because she likes to. The words are a saying with us. It means something like 'another one falls.' That is why she laughs."

But as her laughter died away, Chira began to cough and she had trouble stopping. When she did stop, she looked weak and out of breath again.

Marishe was by her side instantly, holding her up and speaking softly to reassure her. "I think we ought to get going now, Cynn."

He nodded, reaching for the satchel, but she shook her head, "No. I think she's spent too much time in there as it is. She needs fresh air."

"I will carry her," he said, but Marishe only smiled.

"You've carried more than enough for the past little while, I think. Besides, I'm a little bit softer than you are in probably the right places to carry a little girl. We're not that far away from the gates. If you'll carry my bow, I'll carry this little warrior."

She spoke to Chira, knowing that she didn't understand what was being said. "You just put your arms around my neck, my little love, and hold on a little."

Chira got it and then Marishe rose up on her knees, careful to guide Chira's legs so that they went around her middle, front and back. Her forelegs were behind her back and under her breasts. Lifting up on that tiny little bottom felt amazingly good to Marishe and she lost a little more of her heart as she stood up, moving just a bit so that Chira's very slight weight was on her hip.

"There we go," she smiled as she began to walk, "This is how a Sangan mother carries her girl. You just rest, Chira. There's good food where we're going and I'll make sure that your sweet little head finds the softest pillow when you go to sleep."

Cynn walked along in a little amazement, listening as Marishe began to hum a little melody quietly. Chira was comfortable and Marishe felt happy to feel Chira nuzzle her face against her neck. It wasn't long before she felt only a little warm air from her soft exhalations.

"What is that?" he asked quietly.

"Just a little song I know," she told him, "I've always wanted to sing it to my daughter - once I have one - if that ever happens.

I know the words, but Chira only needs the melody for right now."

"I think that I can steal your words," he half-whispered, "I have never met a woman like you."

"Probably a good thing," she smiled, "The world doesn't know what to do with just one of me."

"Is there a story there?" he asked.

"Yes," Marishe nodded, "but it's long, dark, bloody and troubled. Nothing for such a sweet one's little ears even if she can't understand it."