Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [178]
“There,” Nelum pointed over to one side.
Apium lay beside his horse, still alive, but in obvious pain, one foot still caught in the stirrups. Brynd jumped down, unhooked the foot, noting that his friend had pried off his breastplate and was gingerly fingering his chest. From the look of it, a fragment of enemy carapace had penetrated through his ribs.
Snowflakes melted on the febrile exposed skin.
“Blavat!” Brynd looked around for the cultist woman, then waved her toward him.
She dismounted, clutching some relics, placed them to one side. The red-haired man was attempting to speak but produced only staccato puffs, and Blavat then examined the wound while Brynd examined her face.
“What d’you think?” he finally asked her.
“I think I can extract it, but it might have penetrated his lung.”
“Just do whatever it takes. What about the enhancements we have? Weren’t they meant to help with things like this?”
“It’s not that easy, since I have no idea what material the enemy’s shells are composed of. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before, and might not be responsive to my relics.”
“Commander!” Nelum drew his attention, gesturing toward one of the creatures they had just vanquished.
He turned to Blavat. “Just see what you can do here.” She responded only with a subtle head movement that could have meant anything. He was constantly prepared for his friends dying in combat, but it wasn’t something Brynd wanted to face now, and not Apium.
Brynd strode over to Nelum, noticing Lupus standing next to him, bow in hand. Two of the creatures had survived, looking like crustaceans strayed from the sea. In some ways they looked partially human, each with two arms, two legs, but replacing skin were those carapaces which made them so formidable. They appeared charred, melted. So this was it then, these were the terrible creatures causing the genocide on Tineag’l. Right now, sitting in a mire of their dead and dying, they didn’t look so impressive. Their bulbous eyes were lidless as they twitched in sharp movements. But what interested Brynd most was their reaction as Jurro stepped alongside them with a book, some kind of bestiary, in his hand. “New creatures, how exciting! Let me see if they are included in here … Damn this index.”
The two captives raked their heads round with clicks to acknowledge the Dawnir’s presence, then seemed to motion with their limbs in a manner Brynd didn’t understand.
It was perhaps a salute, or perhaps some religious gesture. Seemingly they recognized Jurro, which Brynd pointed out to the Dawnir.
“They know me?” Jurro stared dumbly.
“From their reaction to you, they’re familiar with either you, or your breed.”
Brynd wondered what this might mean to one who spent so long hidden in a dark chamber away from prying eyes. Now, to have another creature actually recognize him.
Nelum, ever curious, said, “Say something to them, Jurro. See how they react.”
As Jurro bent forward the pair of aliens shied away from his direct gaze.
“What do you think, Nelum?”
“Obviously they know what he is, so I’ll bet that wherever they came from, there are more of Jurro’s lot.”
“Want us to kill them, sir?” Lupus inquired.
Brynd shook his head. “Probably more useful alive.”
Thunder sounded on the horizon and he walked away to squint through the snow. In this monochrome landscape, it was difficult to locate the direction of the plangent sound.
Then he spotted, to the north, a thin line of black.
Barely noticeable, on the furthest hill.
The only patch of darkness against the gray landscape and pale sky.
“Nelum,” Brynd summoned him and pointed. “More of the same, d’you reckon?”
Nelum regarded the horizon. “It looks that way … shit. They’ll destroy us, that number of them. We’ll have to get back to Villiren. Fast.”
“It’ll take us hours to reach the ice sheets again.”
“Not necessarily so. We took a meandering path here, took plenty of stops.”
“Yes, fair point.”
Brynd gave the orders for the two