Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (5 page)

Chapter VI:

Curu-ga

T
o alter our direction once again, in a manner that should, in any case, be eventually proven necessary, we delve into the side of a high cliff-face, which was turned at an angle to form what would seem, from above, an open-based triangle with a tall hill on the East-hand. Before the cliff-face was a narrow shelf of earth, only just wide enough to allow for the passage of the inhabitants of the small mount. Below the shelf opened up a great wide ravine, filled with naught but dry dust and rock.

The side of the cliff-face was removed so much as to create an entrance tunnel eight-by-twelve foot wide and high. Due to the angle of the face, this entrance could be seen only by an individual who had braved the shelf of rock, or by one who stood at the very bottom of the treacherous ravine, which was almost three hundred feet deep, and nearly four miles in length.

At the end of this tunnel, which was about five hundred feet long, there opened up a spacious, circular cavern. There was most always a large host moving within this cavern, engaged in any of a thousand sorts of wicked activity, of whose knowledge the reader in most cases would indeed be pleased to be excused from. There branched off through the walls of the cavern six additional tunnels, down each of which a certain number of the inhabitants made their permanent quarters. One of these tunnels led to a singular and enormous chamber, in which the High Prince of the mount made his bed. Here dwelt also his mate, and their four male offspring.

The High Prince of the Voranu was called Arol. His mate was called Ferahla, and his sons were called Arod, Arog, Xersha and Kolag. The Low Prince, who held similar sway over the people, but bent ever to the will of Arol, was called Gormov. Gormov dwelt in the chamber off of the second tunnel, separated only slightly from those of highest rank who were under himself.

This mount was the home of the Ziruk. Its name, in the manner of the residents of that part of the state, was Death Valley Peak, on account of the hazardous ravine which yawned beneath it. Yet the Ziruk, in the fashion of the tongue of the Endai (which still they used, as once they too were a part of that people) called it Curu-ga, or “Cave of the Mighty.” It should be noted, as well, that these beasts were known only as the Ziruk to their Endalin enemies. This word, in their tongue, means “foul” or “impure.” The inhabitants of Curu-ga called themselves the Voranu, or the “third race.” Third race, that was, of the wolves. Accordingly, they assigned the title of first race to the Endai, and that of second race to the Narken.

The Voranan race was incredibly young. At the middle of the twentieth century, only the notion of it had yet to be formed. It began with a small group of Endai, who wished to model themselves after the Narken. The Narken were great, hideous beasts made in olden times from the bodies of human men, and the blood of wolves, by an evil sorceress who did the bidding of Satan. For many years they had only one form; but after the passing of centuries, they gained the ability to adopt a human shape, thence allowing them to come out of their constant hiding. The greater part of the Endai abhorred the Narken – but there were those who admired them, too. It was this handful of exceptions who took unto themselves the task of unlocking the secret of the Narken. They yearned for a power that far outstripped that of human beings; for, despite the fact that the Endalin
people were strong and swift, they were entirely vulnerable to human weaponry. Many an Endalin lost his life to the poacher, or the wolf-hater. Their alternate shapes were rather larger, as has been said, than those of normal wolves; but not so much that the hunter noticed any strange discrepancy, after having shot them down. There is a tale concerning werewolves that bespeaks of a reversion to human form, after life has been sapped from the body. This is a false tale; and due to this fact, the secret of the Endai was ever kept, even with the capture of their bodies by ignorant humans.              

For strength, the Voranu sacrificed beauty, and accepted the bodies of terrible and unspeakable monsters. They were nearly identical in appearance, it should be said, to the Narken; and were nearly as powerful. But we should note, now, that our purpose here is simply to recount the story of the Voranu – and so we leave the Narken behind. We will speak of them no more.

The race of the Voranu began with the ideals and conjectures of a single house. With as much subtlety as could be managed, this house began taking the unsuspecting of their brethren, and caging them several at a time in their cellars. This house had become well-versed in science and its methods, in preparation for their work, and utilised this knowledge in the experiments which they henceforth performed upon their own brothers and sisters.

Things went on in such a way for some years thereafter. Members of the Endai continued to disappear, much more quickly than was the pattern for accidents and human-related deaths, until the King of Mindren (who at that time was Molachi, the sire of Morachi) began to suspect some underhandedness on the part of his own people. The strange behaviour of the house of Ingen was soon noticed; and though the members of the house had recently taken upon themselves the feat of transporting their “specimens” (or so they called the Endalin people whom they tortured ceaselessly with cruel and painful experimentation) to a safe location, their secret was still found out, when the emissaries of the King swept down upon their house, and into their cellars. Most were killed, including Ingen himself; but several escaped the place, and managed to reach their safe-house. Here, away from the ire of their brethren, they continued their work. They were sought for long and fierce, but never found.

Seven years after the siege of the house of Ingen, the first of the Voranu was born. It was discovered with him, that there could be no alteration from the Voranan state to the human one, and that, once having attained the form of a Voranan, that was the state forever kept. This somewhat discouraged the house of Ingen; but they looked upon it in time not as an inconvenience, but rather as an escape from vulnerability.

Before the change, the first Voranan was an Endalin man named Eparo; and after he had been tormented for three years more by his persecutors, having been wrung dry of all physical and anatomical information which would assist in the creation of additional beings such as himself, he was killed, for he was so near to death already, he was fit not even for the propagation which would ensue.

The year was 1972; and the secret of the Voranu had been finally realised. There dwelt still fifty captives in the hidden safe-house, whom the remaining members of the house of Ingen made to match the physical nature of Eparo. These captives harboured a burning hatred for the house of Ingen, and for the deformed creatures which they themselves had become. Yet their captors managed to force some of them into the process of procreation; and thereby, offspring was harvested in the amount of one-hundred-and-twenty, after which the house of Ingen could force no more. And so the remaining captives, who numbered six-and-twenty in 1984, were put to death.

At this time, there remained two males and two females from the house of Ingen. Having precisely boiled down the process of changing an Endalin into a Voranan, these four altered their own states, to become heads over the offspring of the captives, and to enable themselves to personally continue the propagation of the species. The first High Prince was a son of Ingen, and was named Searo.

In the years which followed, Searo organised and headed the process of enlarging the number of Voranu. If any member of his people expressed a disdain for their monstrous states, or the faintest preference towards the race of the Endai, they were put immediately to death. The result was a breed of hateful and savage beasts, whose primary goal was to increase their own species, and who felt not the least aversion to killing any living thing whatever.

Searo was slain in 1987, when a host of Endai located the safe-house, and managed to annihilate a large number of the Voranu. Only five-and-forty of the beasts survived, though they did escape from the clutches of the Endai, and hid themselves well from the eyes of their hunters. After this event, if possible, the Voranu became even more hateful, and even more savage, and were forced to take up the life of nomads, ever fleeing from their pursuers.

Their locations were found out several times more, and many more of them were killed. Only in the most recent decade did they make Curu-ga their home, and begin again the expansion of their breed. Arol had been made their leader after the death of Noros, Searo’s successor, and took immediate charge of this new house. King Morachi sought endlessly for the stronghold, but never came even close to success. All he managed, on occasion, was the capture of a Voranan or two, in supplement to his rash of servants at Mindren. The Voranu learnt not to stray from their home in daylight; and moved out-of-doors only by the light of the moon.

Had Arol known of the folly of the four runners of the house of Dahro, the night upon which they travelled into town with their Turins, he would have shrieked aloud with joy. The house of Dahro caused him certainly the greatest amount of trouble and grief, most especially the two children of Dahro himself. If only his great paws could have gained a grasp upon the slender necks of those troublesome creatures, he should have felt that he needed never accomplish so great a feat again.

He had little reserve when it came to showing either himself or his people to the humans; for he knew that, no matter how they did try, they should never be able to catch a Voranan. He had only one rule concerning such things, and it was this: that no more than three Voranu should go together in a singular direction, for fear that a greater number might allow their being traced back to Curu-ga. Should they have need to travel anywhere in a greater number, they were to leave at intervals in these small groups, and meet afterwards at their destination.

So Arol himself would have most likely entered directly into the bowling alley, cut the throats of each of the four runners, and exited again, before a single human could even have drawn a full conclusion as to what exactly was happening.

Yet he had not known; and he needed, therefore, to wait upon another opportunity. He had no doubt, however, that he would find it. He knew that he must prove the strength of his fledgling race, before he ever dared to approach the mighty Narken. For this reason – it was his aim to kill each and every one of Morachi’s people.

Chapter
VII:

Stricken

C
aramon and Dechtire returned at first light next morn, both in good spirits. Ceir fretted for a long while over her son, and insisted that he take his food and rest there in the parlour, under her watchful eye. She wanted not even to let him run, when darkness had fallen again; but after an array of assurances cast at her by the sires, she threw up her hands with a sigh, and hurried away to the kitchen.

And so the four runners came to their place behind the hill, from which they set out into the darkness, having already begun Caramon’s favourite game of he-to-catch-the-rabbit. He and Dechtire ran together through the wood in a North-Easterly direction, while Nessa and Orin set off West. Though Caramon was always quite certain that he would take the night’s game, Nessa was confident in the scent she caught upon the air, and Orin followed her without question.

Just as she had expected, she gained her token of victory in mere minutes. Alongside Orin, then, she made for the point of meeting they had designated for the night, which lay at about the centre of the wood. She and Orin sat themselves down in the dry and withered leaves of the autumn past, and awaited the arrival of their two playmates. And yet, when finally they did come, they brought with them not even a rabbit! As Dechtire looked down on the handsome hare that the opposing team had brought, she growled menacingly, and leapt at Nessa. The two wrestled for several minutes in the dirt, but finally Dechtire gave a yelp of surrender, having not the strength it required to overtake Nessa.

With a friendly nip at Nessa’s ear, Dechtire sprinted away from the spot, and Caramon hurried after her. It seemed that they were beginning a second round.

So that no other animal should sneak upon the hare, and make away with it for his own use, Nessa changed her shape for a moment, and hung it over a high tree limb. As was the custom, whatever they had caught by morning would be brought home to Ceir, so as to facilitate the creation of her sumptuous rabbit stew (allowing, of course, for the one or two rabbits which Caramon always made a meal of, before they had come to be anything that even resembled the main component of that stew).

Yet it seemed that no sort of stew at all was in that night’s fortune. For, after a distance of no more than three quarters of a mile was laid between the runners, there came the sound of two wolfen voices raised up in distress. Nessa and Orin stopped in their tracks, and spun about for search of an answer to the question of the noise; but their surprise was terrible and great, as they turned to stand face-to-face with a pair of mountainous Ziruk.

No doubt expecting their quarry to attempt escape on either side of them, the Ziruk held their long arms out in blockage of such a feat, and so did not expect what was actually done, as Nessa and Orin hunched down, and sped in a single movement directly through the legs of the beasts. The Ziruk howled in rage, having been tricked; but loped along after the Endai, sometimes allowing their front paws to light upon the ground, and looking, really, as no more than a pair of gorillas (albeit a pair of alarmingly swift, horribly ugly gorillas).

Just as the Ziruk came near to gaining upon them, Nessa and Orin caught sight of Caramon and Dechtire, running in quite a similar fashion, yet from only a single beast. This beast, however, was one of the most terrible beasts of all. It was Gormov.

Nessa and Orin’s tail, too, was nothing to scoff at, seeing as it was composed of no less than Arod and Arog, Arol’s two strongest sons.

As the two pairs of Endai came within several yards of one another, they pivoted Southward with a swift and fluid motion, so as not to lead the Ziruk any farther into the forest, but to Dog’s Hill instead.

Now, to begin with, the four runners were nearly overcome by the sheerness of their shock; but they pressed on in a way that was not affected by it, sprinting so quickly that they seemed nearly to fly, and so it verily appeared that their feet never even lighted upon the ground.

It was clear that assistance was needed. Despite Nessa’s and Caramon’s strength, the four could not fight the three Ziruk alone. They looked frequently backwards, to gauge the time that was left to them, before finally they were overtaken. What with the incredible speed of the Ziruk, there was no possibility at all of reaching the hill unscathed. With a mind, then, towards fending the greatest blows away from their two considerably weaker companions, Nessa and Caramon exchanged a glance; and then spun about to face the Ziruk.

The beasts seemed terribly confused, at first; and brother and sister took advantage of this lapse in purpose and vivacity, to spring with the force of the tightest of coils upon their enemies. They employed themselves as well as they could with the physical handling of the Ziruk, though Arog had broken off from the fray to exchange blows with Dechtire. Orin was some distance ahead of the sordid affair. Being somewhat swifter than Dechtire, he had gone on to gain the hill, and to retrieve help for their hopeless condition.

It must be remembered, that not even an entire minute had passed since Nessa and Orin first heard the howls of their companions, which alerted them of a thing gone awry. Yet the keen ears of the house of Dahro had heard those howls, too, and had started into the night as a single body.

Orin met with the company a mile from the boundary of the forest, and raced with it back to the spot of the fight, where it seemed that Gormov and Arod had gained the upper hand over Nessa and Caramon. Neither was the confrontation between Dechtire and Arog going well, insomuch as it seemed that the former had been terribly wounded. She lay on her side upon the ground, and kept Arog at bay only with the wild slashing of her claws, and the gnashing of her teeth. If the house had arrived only moments later, it may have been too late for her.

The company divided into halves, of which the first rushed to the rescue of Dechtire, and the second to that of Nessa and Caramon. The former managed to separate Arog from the wounded wolf, and to push him into the thick of things, where he was forced to fight alongside Gormov and Arod. Dechtire, meanwhile, was drawn aside by Ima, who changed her shape temporarily, so as to have the use of her hands while tending to her daughter.

The remaining ten members of the house fell to vicious battle with the three Ziruk. Nessa and Caramon had been saved from their positions of vulnerability, and were fighting again at the front of the pack, with the fierceness of Dahro, Faevin and Ayo to assist them with Gormov.

There was a feral fury upon the whole of the pack, which a trio of Ziruk (even should we grant the fact that they were three of the strongest which that people had to offer) certainly could not withstand. They were driven ever and steadily back into the trees, and were receiving by the moment increasingly grievous injuries, so that it became difficult for them to fight with the entirety of their strength and skill. Therefore it was no great surprise, when one of them lost control of his footing, and went sprawling down to the forest floor.

The pack was on him in an instant. In less than another, they had torn out his throat.

After the death of Arod, Gormov and Arog understood their loss of the fight. They turned from the pack, and withdrew at their greatest speed. The pack gave chase, but could not keep pace with the Ziruk, and so returned to the place where Ima knelt beside Dechtire. Being quite the swiftest of them all, Caramon took his wounded mate upon his back, and raced with her towards the hill. With little care for being seen, he rounded the house, and set her carefully down on the front porch. He then changed his shape, so that he might open the door, and carry her into the house.

He settled her onto a sofa in the parlour, where he himself had lain all that day, and so where were strewn already numerous pillows and cushions.

Ceir and Ima, who were unquestionably the most skilled in healing, set themselves then to tending Dechtire. They forced everyone from the parlour save Caramon, and then began upon a long and arduous number of hours, wherein they could give no information to the party in the dining room (which was clustered in silence about the table) as to either one thing or the other.

After a time, having complained of restless legs, and a dire need to stretch them, Nessa wandered alone into the foyer. Through a narrow crack, where the door to the parlour had been left ever so slightly ajar, she viewed her mother and Ima bent sharply, and working with expeditious movements over the still body of Dechtire. Caramon leant over the arm of the sofa, and wept tears that Nessa had never before seen escape him, down onto the closed eyes of Dechtire.              

Stifled by anger and fear, Nessa fled quickly from the house. Perhaps she did slam the door just a little too loudly; for not a moment after her feet had lifted from the porch, she heard another set coming after her.

She looked back, and saw Orin there. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need to run,” said Nessa, wiping crossly at a tear on her cheek. “I’ll return as soon as I am able.”

Orin took her hand. “Let me come with you?”

“No,” said Nessa. “I must go alone.”

“Please, Nessa –”

She untangled her fingers from his, and made as quickly as she could for the rear of the hill. Even if he tried, he would not catch her.

~

In wolfen form, Nessa sat on her haunches at the top of the Devil’s Crag, examining the sky for some sign or shred of reassurance. Yet there seemed none to be gained.

For the season, the night was strangely cold. A thick mist rose from the surface of the river below, and floated up to form a halo of fog round the crag. Nessa sat there in the midst of it, silent and still, and quite as reflective as she generally cautioned herself not to be. There was no use, she tended to think, in reflection; for what did it bring but the realisation of broken hopes, and the bitter taste of their disappointment? Nothing at all, it seemed. And so she tried now to shake herself from her reverie, which was filled at its height with concern for Dechtire – but which was filled also with things that she could not speak about, to anyone other than the person who made them so sour in the first place.

She sat long, before there came a whisper of movement upon the footpath. She whirled about, so as to catch sight of her visitor before they gained the head of it, expecting no less than one of the Ziruk (and quite possibly Arol himself). Yet it was only Leyra who emerged atop the crag: she who had only moments before occupied Nessa’s thoughts, and tinged them with that familiar sourness. Only looking at her, Nessa felt it again, there in the pit of her stomach: as a sickness that she seemed not able to rid herself of.

Leyra padded slowly to Nessa, and stood for a little watching her face, with her own placed mere inches away. But then she changed her shape, and gained several feet over Nessa. Nessa glared defiantly, wishing to displease her; but finally acquiesced, and rose to match Leyra’s height. Immediately she turned aside, and sat herself down again.

“You know that you should not be alone,” said Leyra. “The Ziruk have targeted our house. Caramon, no doubt, is all that stands between you, and the top of Arol’s list of dead.”

“And what in the world do you care?” asked Nessa. “I suggest you run back to Faevin, before he begins to suspect that you have ever done more than advise against my folly.”

Leyra dropped down to the rock beside her. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Tell me, at least, that you are not so ignorant,” said Nessa, somewhat disbelieving.

“You’ve ever a way with words, Nessa. You talk to me this way – and you wonder why I shy from you?”

“Would you not, if I spoke to you sweetly?”

Leyra looked away.

“Just as I thought,” said Nessa, raising her eyes to the moon.

“Listen, Nessa,” said Leyra, taking Nessa’s hands in her own, in rather a desperate manner. “What do you wish me to say? This is the way things are done! One must take a mate; and one must be joined to him! In what other way can we survive?”

“Spare me the greater good,” hissed Nessa. “If you truly cared, you would not bend so easily. But wait! If it suits you, answer me this. If you needed not take Faevin as your mate, and if it would be considered no more strange to take me instead – would you do it?”

Leyra sat silent for a long moment. But finally, with shining eyes and a quivering lip, she answered:

“No.”

Having perhaps foolishly expected a different response, Nessa was surprised by a crushing weight come down upon her chest. She wrenched her hands away, and crawled forward to the edge of the crag. She swung her legs over it, and dug her elbows into her knees, so that she might hide her face from Leyra.

But Leyra only came to meet her, and knelt long behind her, with her hands upon her shoulders. “If you wanted not to know,” she said calmly, “then you should not have asked.”

Nessa pulled away from her, and moved swiftly to the footpath. She considered seriously taking her feet to it, and leaving Leyra to herself, and the night; but she could not execute the motion.

Leyra rose up, and came to stand before Nessa. Forward she leant, to place a soft kiss upon Nessa’s lips, and put a cool hand to her flushed cheek. When she broke away, she looked for a while into Nessa’s eyes, and smiled as comfortingly as she seemed able; but then she dropped away, and went running down the footpath.