A Phoenix from the Ashes

A Phoenix from the Ashes
© D. L. Stroupe
All Rights Reserved

Chapter Six He decided, the next morning, that it was very pleasant to be bunking with Mark, but that he had to make things right with Arion and Sparrow. He did that, then headed for the call lounge to wait and hope that the alarm would remain silent. He smiled at that. Today would be one of those days when an alarm would be a welcome distraction. The day after an attack was always a toss up. Sometimes the venats held off to lick their wounds, other times they immediately tried again in a different location. Yesterday had been a relatively mild affair, so it would mostly depend on how hungry they were.

He coaxed Mark into a game of chess by taking his queen off the board as a handicap. Even so, he found himself passing up opportunities yet stomping him anyway. He became bored and put an end to it, apparently much to Mark's relief. Mark preferred more physical sports, such as quadball. They'd had many a rousing duel in the quads, but it wasn't possible in the call lounge. It would certainly make for an interesting match, he thought with amusement.

"What's so funny?" asked Mark.

"Just trying to imagine quadball in the lounge. Little black ball ricocheting off the tables and backs of people's heads..." He smiled.

Mark laughed. "Now there would be a match! But how many bounces would you allow for a room this size?"

Soren looked around critically. "Four for size, and one for hazards."

"Three and two."

He nodded. "You're right. Three and two it is." They both sighed then and Soren looked at the clock. Another three hours of prime time before they could leave. "Come on," he said, rising. "Let's play ping-pong."

Mark shrugged and rose. "Ah, the mighty warriors preparing for battle!" he said lustily. Then, in falsetto, "Ping pong, ping pong, ping pong!" Vic looked up from his table and chuckled. Soren looked at Mark, back at Vic, and shrugged, disowning the lunatic. Eric tapped the table and Vic discarded the seven of clubs.

The score was tied and they were playing sudden death when the alarm sounded. Soren looked up and Mark slammed one past him. "Game!"

"Foul!" he retorted, tossing his paddle on the table and heading for the door. "You know that one can't count!"

"I know nothing of the sort!" he replied in turn. "You're just a poor loser!"

"Hah! I don't need to be. I win often enough and I do it fair and square!" They climbed into their ships, leaving the sparring go.

The battle was quick and decisive, the carrier grounded and the escort giving her up after a minimal fight. Soren found himself relieved. So small an effort meant none of the venators below were worth their effort, which in turn meant the Fadeydushka would not likely bother with captives for questioning. Less for Arion to fret over. Clean up was likewise brisk and efficient, the carrier crew small and quickly dispatched.

Arion was again invited down despite his not being involved, and again he accepted. The Ealdred approved such trips, hopeful that they would satisfy the populace as well as being therapeutic for Arion.

Mark found a pleasant young lady, or perhaps it was the other way around, but both seemed quite pleased. Soren excused himself and went to sit with Arion. Yesterday's quarrel had already been smoothed over, but they both felt the tension of their differences. "Where's Sparrow?"

He shrugged loosely. "Trying to avoid the sun. Myself, I think it feels good."

He nodded and closed his eyes, feeling the heat bake into his muscles, letting it loosen his tension. "It does feel good," he agreed, "but it'll put a damper on the dancing."

"They'll make up for it this evening."

Soren didn't answer, struck by the fact that they were discussing the weather. "How come every time we have a fight, I end up feeling like it's my fault?" he asked suddenly.

Arion grinned at him. "Because it is."

Soren laughed and shook his head. "Thanks." He sighed then. "Do you approve of what Sparrow's doing?" he asked quietly.

Arion looked at him but didn't answer right away. "He has a long term contract, Soren. What is he supposed to do?"

"If they'd release him, would he go?"

"I don't know. I never asked him."

He nodded. "Your contract is almost up," he observed.

He also nodded. "I'll be leaving when it is."

"What will you do with yourself?"

"I don't know. Live off of my beautiful new gremlin I suppose. Start eating some of those fish I catch, instead of throwing them back."

He smiled slightly. "But you don't like to eat fish."

He shrugged. "No, but I don't like to go hungry either. Maybe I can trade some of them." He shrugged again.

"Maybe if you signed a different contract. You could stay on at what you're doing now."

"No," he answered, definite. He paused, then shook his head again. "Come on. Let's go get something to drink. This sun is making me thirsty." Soren followed him to one of the stands.

"What can I serve you?" asked the young man.

"How about some of that spring water this area is so famous for?"

He grinned, obviously pleased, and handed him a large glass. "And you?"

"The same." They thanked him and headed for a patch of coolness still available at the edges of a tree's shadow.

"So where's Mark?" asked Arion.

He smiled. "Flirting."

"Ah." He grinned at his drink, but it faded as they overheard the conversation next to them.

"I still say they should question it. It's in good shape for it."

The other shook his head. "I saw it. It hasn't any rank. It's just a lousy carrier rat. You don't start finding rank until you down part of the escort. It'd be a waste of time to question this one. Let them have their fun with it."

The first one spotted them listening and turned to them for support. "How about you? Don't you think they should question that venat?"

Soren glanced at Arion and sighed. "We aren't aware of it. What venat?"

"They found it after the Fadeys left. It's out at the poles now, but no one wants to bother with questioning it."

He nodded slowly. "The escort didn't try to protect the carrier once it was grounded. That pretty much means the venats didn't care about who was in it."

"What if they just wanted you to think they didn't care?" he insisted.

Soren was about to explain why that reasoning didn’t make sense, but Arion rose. "I'll go take a look at him," he said and turned quickly.

Soren followed reluctantly, eyeing the glass Arion had not even remembered to set down. Surprisingly, the two men didn't follow, but resumed their debate, the second now accusing the first of not allowing the Cedrychads any peace. Arion's pace quickened as they neared the rear of the buildings, sounds of angry, taunting voices coming to them clearly now. As he rounded the corner, however, he stopped completely, hugging the glass as if for security.

"Go ahead, jump!" sneered a man, throwing a rock. The venat dodged backward, then stumbled forward as its wrist yanked short against the shackle. Breathing hard, ears flattened back, it held its head low, wary and defensive. The group was small - three men, two women, and a young boy of perhaps nine or ten cycles.

Arion started forward slowly, catching the venat's eye. A rock bounced off its thigh, snatching back its attention, its muzzled lips lifting in a silent snarl. Two of the men laughed, congratulating the woman who had apparently scored the hit.

Soren's stomach cramped. Why couldn't it simply be put down? The young boy was toying with a stone, but he did not seem happy. Arion's steps faltered, but he continued on toward the venat, the group becoming still, watching as they realized he was not coming to join them. The venat grew more and more agitated as he approached, intense yellow eyes flicking from Arion to the group and back again. Soren recognized now that its panting came, not so much from exertion, but from heat exacerbated by the muzzle. Like a dog, a venat didn't sweat, but panted to relieve excess heat. They preferred to avoid hot weather altogether, being quite sensitive to it.

"Be careful," he cautioned softly, growing concerned, but Arion ignored him, near enough now that it could kick him if it tried. He stopped there, rigid. Soren gritted his teeth as Arion bowed his head.

"Mobatnte."

For a moment the venator froze, holding its breath and lifting its ears ever so slightly. It glanced at Soren, apparently trying to fathom their purpose, at the group that had broken out in excited whispers, and back at Arion.

"Rukumbats?" Arion asked quietly, taking a step closer, holding the glass out in front of him. It swallowed convulsively, but its ears flattened and it hissed.

"Come on," said Soren angrily, "let it be. How's it supposed to drink with a muzzle on?"

Arion took another step forward. "I'm taking it off."

"Taking it off! Are you nuts?"

"That's what they tell me," he said softly, now stepping behind the venat. It hissed again, twisting about, trying to keep him in sight.

"Arion, don't do this," said Soren hopelessly, knowing it wouldn't make any difference.

"Tch tch tch," Arion clicked his tongue. He set the glass down off to the side and slowly reached for the clasp.

It turned again, then froze as Arion's fingers closed on the straps. A quick release and Arion stepped back, leaving the venat to shake the muzzle off.

"There," said Arion with satisfaction, retrieving the glass and coming around to the front again. Its panting slowed, made much more effective by being able to open its mouth. Even so, the day was too young - it would never be able to survive the heat of the sun.

"Arion, it’s going to take your hand off. Even if it doesn't, you'll only be prolonging things."

"No," he answered, his voice clear and firm. "Nothing is worse than thirst. It's the least I can do."

"And a lot more than you should or need to do."

"Modomi Arion Dorios," he said to the venat, ignoring him.

"Arion Dorios?" it echoed, its ears perking forward with interest, though its eyes still showed distrust. "Rumopeigo Pratlataach. Modomi Ohashta."

"His name's Ohashta," said Arion, turning briefly. "Ikrond kumbatek Ohashta," he said and took a sip of the drink. "Rukumbats?"

Its ears twisted back again. "Mose? Mose rusir?"

Arion hesitated. "Mosir dei momatoron voba kamu," he said frowning, then added, "Tes Kinoshi, movasan shirek ba kombek. Modanuba renta rushirekaia."

"Arion," said Soren gently, "I'll put it down for you if you want."

"No," he said sharply, startled. "No. He just doesn't understand why. He's suspicious. Can you blame him?"

"No." He wanted to say more, but held his tongue. Maybe, somehow, this might help.

"Morupeiko Ohashta," said Arion, "so momatoron voba kamu."

It turned its head to the side, keeping its eyes on Arion, in an unfamiliar gesture. Its voice sounded sullen as it said, "Rudomi Arion Dorios. Eirrudomi Pratlataach. Rumoshome ba dasdanek."

"Ma," said Arion, startled. "I've insulted him," he explained, still surprised. "Ma. Movomaku. Mobatn. Monamashome. Modanuba renta shirekaia."

The head straightened and it nodded. "Momonaset. Movebon."

Arion smiled, eager. "Kumbatsa?"

"Geisa." Soren tensed as Arion came up next to it and raised the drink. It hesitated, then drank, emptying the glass quickly, and Arion stepped back again. "Morusir movebonekaia," it said solemnly.

He nodded, then hesitated, uncertain.

"Feel better?"

He looked back at Soren. "Yes," he said, but obviously wasn't satisfied.

"We can't let it go you know."

He sighed impatiently with a curt nod. That wasn't it. Another, heavier sigh and he looked squarely at the venat. "Enarmopora ve Raach dokapenel," he said, watching it intently. He paused, clearly waiting, but it didn't respond. "Tobasa ko?"

It drew back, both eyes and ears startled and displeased, but apparently not angry. "Rumadakames; teina ban motorons pora?"

Arion shook his head, frustrated. "Mose venasik? Matobasa ko; teina senana toba?"

It too shook its head, negative. "Rumadakame. Ban rutoron peiko? Amonda modomi Ohashta. Rumopeikos; teina rupeiko ve momadogas."

"Ohashta, mopeiko ba konaia," he said with firm persuasion. "Tibar bopenar kro, enaramashaps adoma; teina samonda enarasotats peidanda, ran Gonatika enarashapste. Tiba matundals. Mopeiko ba konaia. Ohashta," he said, becoming insistent, "monalopa - tobasa ko?"

Its head lowered into a fighting stance, its ears back, eyes narrowed. "Mogaba."

Arion stared, first stunned, then angry. "Gaba. Ban gaba? Kish Raach dokapenel!" Furious, he threw down the empty glass, smashing it against the stones.

It watched the glass shatter, a wary cat, then looked back at Arion with angry dignity. Soren reached out, resting his hand on Arion's shoulder. "Don't let it upset you. It isn't worth it. You can't believe what they say anyway."

Arion shrugged him away. "Oh you'd like what he's saying," he replied bitterly, but he made no move to leave. Before Soren could make sense of this, the venat spoke again.

"Rumopora, Pratlataach, modogaste. Teina mose rumopeiko?"

Arion seemed to writhe within himself, struggling to withdraw his anger. "Makreida ba nash. Monapeiko basneshar."

The venat, however, seemed angrier still and Soren desperately wished that Arion would step back. "Rumapeiko ba dokapek," it said darkly.

Arion hesitated, struggling with his own anger, then shook his head. "Madakame kor. Momavodotan dakame peiko ran darko."

Arion's voice had been calm and quiet, almost soothing, but at the words the venator's control crumbled. "Rudartes no sharpen; teina rumoshapat!" it shouted, furious and trembling.

Arion appeared unmoved. "Mokoketaia sirenel tonapek dei dakameten monabatn. Danubasa doga; teina eiralareidaste."

It looked sharply at Soren, its anger dramatically frozen in place. Soren realized, rather suddenly, that it was frightened. Was he threatening it?

Its lips moved slightly, as if to hiss, but no sound came and its eyes dropped. "Rumodomi sharpen; teina mose rumobatn?" it asked softly, defeated. "Rumomashomes; teina mose rumopeiko? Runo Pratlataach. Mose rumadakame?"

Arion seemed tired and confused, yet freshly curious. "Monamadomi sharpen. Adomita sharpen," he said.

"Ma."

Arion cocked his head, curious. "Molopasel makune," he said softly. "Manosa sharpen; teina senana no?"

It stared at him as if he had just grown antlers. "Rulopa lopatekar sansi. Asa rumopas morularada. Senana runo?"

He smiled slightly. "Mono sonek."

"Nash. Mono roka."

He grinned. "Nash. Rokanika tobatenar kor?"

It sighed, not answering. Then, "Runo Pratlataach. Runo kopen. Rumashuda."

"Kopen? Nos kopen?"

It gave a soft hiss, frustrated. "Rumashuda, so ban mopeigos? Senana mopeigos?"

"Pego nash," said Arion.

It shook its head. "Momatoron."

"Matorona," he stated, considering. "Mapasa?"

It paused, then nodded. "Momapas."

Soren cleared his throat, trying to take advantage of the calm. "Let's go now, huh?"

"Go? Why?"

He sighed and shook his head, uncomfortable. "You feel better, it feels better. Just seems like a good time to go."

His face broke into a smile and he laughed. "You mean before we both get mad again!" He chuckled. "I'm sorry Soren. I didn't mean to leave you out, but it's all right now. We just misunderstood each other."

"Well good. So let's go now."

His face sobered. "I'm sorry Soren, but I don't want to go. I'm learning a lot. See, I was trying to ask him - "

"Arion," he said sharply, cutting him off, keenly disappointed, "you can't believe this one any more than Raach." He had hoped the venat was proving Raach a liar, but Arion's fascination was all too enthusiastic. "All you're doing is making the poor thing think you're going to help it, and you can't. You told it who you are, and that much at least it seemed to understand. Of course it'll support Raach's lies."

"No, that's just it," he persisted, undaunted. "He wasn't. He wouldn't answer with any kind of sense at all and I..." He faltered. "I got mad because I thought it meant it was all lies. But it wasn't him, it was me."

"You mean it took him a minute or two to figure out what you wanted to hear," he said, struggling to keep his voice low, mindful of the people watching behind them.

"No," he insisted, frustrated. "It was the way I was asking him. I.. I.." He stuttered, trying to form the thought. "I was too blunt. Something about the way they talk about it makes it wrong to say they have a soul."

Soren frowned. "That doesn't give it one."

"Right," he agreed patiently. "But if he had no soul, wouldn't it be simple for him to say he didn't?"

"Not if he thinks you'll save his life for having one."

"Then it would be easy to lie and just say, yeah, I have a soul. But he's not. Soren, you have to stop looking at it the way we do. It's different for them. He can't say, no, I don't have a soul, because that wouldn't be true. But he can't say he does, because that would be wrong."

Soren sighed heavily. "All you're telling me is what it wouldn't say."

His face fell. "And if he said it plainly you'd call it a lie."

They became silent as the young boy left the group and came over, still fingering his rock. "Excuse me," he said politely, "but why did you give it a drink?"

Arion smiled, glancing back at it. "Because I felt sorry for him."

He frowned. "Even after.. everything?"

"Yes. Especially after everything."

For a long moment the boy stared hard at the venator. He dropped his eyes to the stone, rubbed it one last time, and carefully set it on the ground at the venator's feet. Without looking up or back, he walked away. The rest of the group broke up as well, leaving silently.

"It's wrong," Arion whispered, a faint smile on his lips. "It's wrong to keep it secret."

"You have no choice," Soren answered harshly, frustrated, knowing that the Ealdred would not be pleased. Arion looked at him, startled, and somehow this made him even angrier. "If you want to stand here and babble with this venat, go ahead. But you keep it to yourself." Arion's eyes grew hard as he spoke, but he was too uneasy to care. He turned and stalked away.

Mark was nowhere to be seen, but he finally found Sparrow near the quad and sat down with him in the grass. "Sparrow," he said softly, "we have to get Arion back up to the Hammerstar."

"Why?" he asked, immediately concerned.

"They caught a straggler and put it on the poles. Arion's back there talking to it about them having souls. It's not helping him Sparrow. If anything, I think it's making things worse."

"It's agreeing with him?"

He sighed. "No. But it doesn't matter. He says it won't say it doesn't, and it won't say it does. He seems to think that means it does. And the people are watching him very closely."

He paused, irritated to find that Sparrow was fascinated. "He's not helping it either," he continued coldly. "It's going to think he can help it, and he can't. It's well on its way to heatstroke now. He's already taken the muzzle off, to give it a drink. If he stays any longer there's no telling what he'll want to try to do for it. We have to get him up."

Sparrow frowned, at last considering the problem. "On what grounds? How? Are you going to ask the Ealdred to recall the whole party, or recall the shuttle with just Arion? Either way, how are you going to explain it?"

He paused. "Maybe we should let the Ealdred worry about that," he said, unable to come up with an answer himself.

"Maybe we should let the Ealdred decide if it's worth worrying about," amended Sparrow.

"Fine. But we need to talk to him. Now." They went to the shuttle, which had the most accessible yet private videcom for their purposes.

The Ealdred listened silently, looking at neither of them, as Soren explained. He remained silent for several moments, then looked up and asked, "Do you believe he would do something rash?"

"I believe he believes it has a soul," Soren answered. "I believe he took an oath to protect all souled beings, and I believe he takes that oath very seriously."

He nodded. "Yes. But I see no reason to hide our concern from him. Tell him I want to speak with him. I'll wait."

"Yes sir," said Soren, somewhat surprised, but not displeased. He walked briskly back to the poles. Arion was still there. The young boy had returned and stood looking sulkily at Soren.

"Time to go?" asked Arion, his voice cool.

"The Ealdred wants to talk to you," he answered, again feeling guilty for his harsh words. "He's waiting."

He dropped his eyes and nodded. "Just as well," he said quietly, still angry. He said something to the venat then, and turned to follow Soren. They returned to the shuttle where the Ealdred was waiting. "Sir," he said stiffly, dipping his head.

"Arion. I regret the necessity of this," he began, noting Arion's irritation, "but there is some concern about your intentions toward the venat."

"Yes sir. What exactly are you afraid I'll do?"

"I was hoping you would be willing to tell us."

"Yes sir. I was planning to talk to him."

"And?" the Ealdred pressed gently.

"And nothing. I took the muzzle off so I could give him a drink and talk to him. That's all."

He nodded. "Thank you, Arion. You are in an extremely difficult situation, and I sympathize. I hope you will recognize our actions as those of concerned friends, and also to understand that we are responsible for many lives. People are watching you very carefully. This also concerns us."

"Yes sir, they have eyes," he answered bitterly, angrier rather than mollified. "They also have ears, but it wasn't me the boy overheard."

Soren glanced sharply at Arion, then back at the Ealdred whose tone took on an edge and his face a worried frown. "Boy? What boy? What did he overhear?"

Arion sighed heavily, his irritation falling away. "A young boy was with some others who were stoning the venator. When I gave the venator a drink, the boy set his stone down at his feet. This stone," he added, displaying a rock Soren had not noticed he was holding. "Then he left. I tried to explain to Soren what Ohashta had been saying -"

"Ohashta?"

"The venator. His name is Ohashta," he said quietly, but clearly stressing the fact that it had a name. "Soren left and went and told Sparrow. The boy overheard. As he understands it, Soren wants me taken back to the Hammerstar because I say the venator has a soul."

"...And how did you learn this?"

"The boy came and told me. He wanted to warn me that they were coming to take me away."

"And your reply?"

"I asked him why. He said because I say the venator has a soul. So I asked him who told him that, and he said he overheard the Cedrychad that was with me talking to a Fadey."

"Who is this boy?"

"I don't know. We never introduced ourselves."

He nodded. "What else did he say?"

"He asked me if it was true."

"And?"

Arion looked at him levelly. "I told him he'd have to answer that for himself."

The Ealdred sighed and leaned back, thinking. "I suppose that's the best answer I could expect from you, all things considered. You are indeed faced with a difficult situation, and I do understand that. But do you grasp my situation?"

"Yes sir, I do. That's why I've been trying my best to cooperate."

"Good. Thank you. Soren," he said briskly, his decisions made, "I want you to find out who this young boy is, and who his parents are. Find them and explain to them the situation. No more than necessary, but make them understand. The child will respond better to them than to any of us. Arion, I will hope your conversation with the venator was completed. I must ask you to stay away from it now. Do what you like, but stay away from it."

"No sir."

"No?" the Ealdred echoed softly, seeming to relax into his chair again.

"No sir," he repeated calmly. "I will not. I'm very sorry, but I will not."

The Ealdred gazed at him, both of them possessed by an eerie facade of geniality, but Arion knew as well as Soren that the Ealdred's apparent tranquility was in fact an indication of extreme tension. "I thought I had your cooperation."

"You do, sir, as best I'm able. I won't talk about what I believe, just as I haven't all along. And I won't set him free like Soren was afraid I might. But I will not turn my back on him. I can't. It chafes me to keep silent, but it's bearable. But this... I can't. He's going to die. It's a small enough thing for him not to be alone."

"...And if I order you back to the Hammerstar?" he asked mildly.

Soren saw Arion's eyes go cold, colder than they had when he'd told him to keep it to himself. "Then that young boy will know he was right," he replied softly, but the muted words held no gentleness of any sort.

The Ealdred smiled and nodded, and Soren felt the pit of his stomach go sour. "Go then. Talk to your venat. Soren, find the boy. Find his parents."

"Yes sir." He turned and walked out, escaping. Arion walked with him, both of them returning to the poles, though for different reasons. "Arion... I'm really sorry..."

"Yeah, I know."