Greetings reader! I hope this story finds you in good circumstances!
Welcome back to the second "installment" of my one-shot series. Confused at all? Go to my bio and look it up or search for the 'Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows' Both will give you a good idea of what this is about.
While your reading experience for this short story would be enhanced by reading 'Halo: Rise of the Empire,' I think even without reading, you'd be able to understand the point of what I'm trying to get across.
Enjoy.
Vellichor:
(N.) The strange wistfulness of used bookshops
"How much longer must we sit and wait?"
The Sangheili SpecOps Officer turned towards him.
"You should not be so hasty as to want everything done now. The moment we have a positive confirmation on the location of our Ambassadors, we will strike.
Ripa 'Talam sighed. His mission was quickly facing one complication after the other. They had been sent to this rock, a Human Colony named Mamore, to rescue a group of Sangheili and Human Ambassadors that had been captured at a diplomatic meeting in one of the neighboring systems. They were being held somewhere in the city beyond them. Unfortunately, the rescue force sent to retrieve them was forced to stand down when their captors got wind of their operation and threatened to kill them, hence why he was here.
His SpecOps Lance had been combined with a team of two "Demons" to infiltrate the city with other teams, and rescue the Ambassador's. They were currently holed up in a building on the outskirts of the Capitol. A small channel of land connected the outlying towns to the actual city and was their only route in. Unfortunately, even that was currently compromised at the moment with a major storm rolling in.
The door opened and the small lance of four turned weapons towards the intruders, ready to fire.
Ripa 'Talam watched as two Demons, one in dark blue, the other in white armor, pushed through hurriedly before closing the door.
"Weapons down." his Superior commanded. The small squad relaxed fractionally, keeping the weapons close to them, but pointed away from the Demons.
"Look, we know we're not exactly friends Officer 'Xytam but if you would at least give us the benefit of the doubt-"
"I know, Demon. We're all a little anxious, especially since our cover was blown. Is the storm as strong as they predicted?"
The blue demon looked over his shoulder outside.
"Unfortunately it is. Good news is that our spies report this will delay the Insurrection from moving our Ambassador's, bad news is that the rain will compromise our plan of infiltrating the sewers. The sewers in this section can't handle anything more than a light shower." the Blue demon replied regretfully.
"Can we move above ground?" Ripa asked.
"Our camouflage units will short out. A little rain it can handle, not a deluge like it's been forecasted." Officer 'Xytan replied.
Ripa and one of his Lance Brothers growled frustrated.
Rain began falling lightly on the roof of the building they were taking shelter in.
"So, we just sit and wait powerless?" another Operative asked.
"There's nothing we can do." Officer 'Xytam replied. "Still, the moment the worst of it is over, I want to be on the move."
"Agreed." the blue demon nodded. "If nobody has objections, I think this place could use a little light. What do you think?" it asked after a moment.
When nobody replied contrary to his comment, he produced a collapsible lantern which lit up the building with soft orange light. The light lit up the corners of the room and illuminated dimly the innards of their refuge from the storm.
"What is this place?" Ripa asked, turning to one of his brothers in Sangheili.
"I think this is a bookstore." the blue demon replied in Sangheili that was nearly perfect.
All four Sangheili turned to focus on the Demon.
"Did you...just speak Sangheili?" 'Xytan queried.
"I did. It's a little harder to speak than other languages, but I figured if we would be working together, I should brush up on it."
Ripa gave a grudging grunt of approval. It was...unsettling that this Demon could speak almost as well as one of them, but it was to be commended. It still didn't explain what this place was.
"What is a bookstore?" Ripa asked, switching to English.
"Here, I'll show you." the Demon said pointing further back into the room. He placed his weapon on his back and flicked lights on his helmet on to illuminate the room.
Ripa saw rows and rows of wooden shelves filled with dozens of similar looking objects, varying only in size and thickness, sitting on the dusty shelves, some more haphazardly placed than others.
"You guys have literature, right?"
"Literature?"
"You know, stories, poems, epics, plays?"
"Ah." said Ripa understanding what he was asking. "Each Clan has a Battle Poem that details the heroic feats of our ancestors and contemporaries going back many centuries. It is a symbol of honor and pride among Sangheili. Inscribed in these walls are the poetry and parables passed down by our most wise Elders."
"I know about those. What about fictional stories?" the Blue Demon asked somewhat unsatisfied. He plucked one of the objects gently from the shelf and dusted the cover gently.
"Fictional stories?" Ripa asked confused. "Why would you write about something that's false?"
"Well, not all of it is false, a lot of it is based on some aspects of things that have actually happened."
"But why would you write and create something that's false?"
The Demon chuckled. The sound was unfamiliar to Ripa. For a moment he had to repress the urge to yank the rifle off his leg - that would be a near-perfect way to ensure he never made it into the saga of the 'Talam Clan.
"You really want to know?"
Was that challenge or question? Ripa couldn't tell.
Thunder clapped outside and the rain began falling more steadily.
"It's not like I have any other options." The Sangheili snorted in response.
"In our earliest days as a species they helped us to make sense of what little we knew about the world and helped convey messages to the next generation. Why the seasons changed, why the earth quakes, why bad things happen to good people, the origin of the heavens, the explanations for rain, snow, war, famine, hunger."
The demon held out the book to Ripa and he gingerly accepted it.
"We as Humans have always needed stories, fictional or otherwise, to give us an outlet for all the things we aren't sure we can believe. When this world becomes too much for one to bear, you can always count on myriads of others to be found in books.
"And this place is a market for books?" Ripa asked as he carefully opened up the pages. He couldn't read the script with its symmetrical lines comprised of so many different characters.
"Well, older ones anyways. Physical copies of books are a much rarer commodity. There's something special about opening one up and escaping."
"Do you need this escape?" Ripa asked.
"Do I?"
The demon paused and turned contemplative.
The rain outside suddenly increased in volume and Ripa looked up to hear the sound of the sky opening up. They were right, attempting to use camoflage or sneak around in this deluge would only bring upon them further complications.
"You know, I do, but that takes on a different form. My escape comes with song." the demon responded after a few seconds in Sangheili.
"Music?" Ripa asked, wondering whether he had heard correct.
"Well, yeah." the demon said slightly defensively. "Whether you perform or listen to it, it's still a story nonetheless."
Ripa stared at the demon, unsure of what to think. Here, standing opposite of him, was the scourge of the Covenant during the war. Tough, unbeatable, invincible, a supernatural force that broke the Covenant time and time again, but the one standing opposite of him had a softer side to it unlike anything he had ever thought about it. He wanted to shake his head and see this demon the way he had always though of them, but that was becoming more and more impossible."
"But enough about me. We're in an antique bookshop. If you really want to appreciate this place, take off your helmet."
"Take off my...why?"
"Trust me." the demon insisted firmly. He led by example and removed its helmet.
Ripa observed the demon without it's mask and was intrigued. While there was certainly a firmness to its features, but behind that hardened exterior was a male human, just like the many others he had seen. But this one didn't have the hate and anger behind its eyes like so many others he had seen.
Ripa watched the demon closely and slowly put his hands to his own helmet and released the seal. He removed it, still waiting for the demon to spring alive and attack him when he was most vulnerable.
That was when the smell hit.
It startled Ripa and for a moment he scrambled to put his helmet back on when the demon opposite of him slowly shook his head. His efforts stopped.
"Do you smell it?"
Ripa gave no response but held the helmet at that ready. He tentatively took a sniff. While there were musty, dust-filled undertones to the building, there was an undeniable smell. Ripa was reminded strongly of the trees that grew near 'Talam Keep and of the many flowers that were kept in the gardens. It was a warm, earthy smell that felt oddly like being home.
"Comforting, isn't it."
"Yes." Ripa hesitated. The bookstore now didn't look so dark and foreboding as it was quiet and still. It was now a rather interesting place. Did all of these books have the power that the demon claimed? He certainly thought so. Ripa felt a twinge of sadness for the place. It was abandoned now and he had a suspicion that the owners of the market wouldn't be back for a while. All that was left were these books in their sad looking and dust covered state.
A question arose in his mind.
"Can you...?" Ripa stopped that thought from leaving his mouth. This was no time to embarrass himself.
"Can I what?" the demon looked intently. "You want me to read something to you?"
Ripa stared at the demon for a minute.
"Alright, back up a minute. What is your name?" the demon asked.
"Ripa."
"Ripa...?"
"Ripa 'Talam."
"I'm William."
The demon put forth his hand. He had seen this gesture before among the humans. His hand wasn't perfect for shaking, but he put his hand forward and shook to the best of his ability.
"You're different." Ripa couldn't find the words to describe how he felt so he simply said "you're different than the others."
"Different? I suppose I am a little different than the others. Just because Spartans are harbingers of death doesn't mean we can't have respect for culture and art. Speaking of different, aren't you a little young to be a SpecOps operative?"
"What does my age have to do with anything?" Ripa huffed indignantly.
"I meant no offense. I just meant to point out that at the end of the day, you and I aren't so different."
"Perhaps we aren't. I didn't realize your kind was so cultured. I was always taught that you were a barbarous, heretical group worthy only of death."
"Funny how war does that."
"Indeed. Have you always been this fascinated with your books?"
"Sure. We were taught about all the great works of our species in our training. Our trainers figured that if we were taught about the great works of our culture before being sent out to protect humanity - and by extension our art - we might be a little more motivated.
"You would fight that hard to protect it?"
"Some of it. I don't care for certain parts of it, but I know others do. So, at the end of the day, I guess I would."
"And what do you think of our culture?"
William stopped.
"I don't know too much but I think the Sangheili's emphasis on honor is admirable, even if it's overkill sometimes, as is the emphasis you put on the heroic deeds of your clans and kin for all of your posterity to see. I'd be interested to go and see one of your battle poem's for myself one day."
"Then you will have to come see ours one day. It truly is a great tale to read and reflect upon."
"Speaking of tales, do you want me to show you what I'm talking about?" he pointed to the book.
"Sure." he said curtly.
"What's going on?"
Officer 'Xytam had appeared and was looking at the Spartan suspiciously.
"Nothing. I'm just showing your soldier a little bit of human culture. Do you want to join in?"
"I'll listen from a far and keep a lookout." 'Xytam grumbled before turning away.
"I'll listen." a quiet voice said cautiously. "That one used to be my favorite."
Ripa was momentarily surprised to hear a female's voice coming from the other demon who had just materialized as well, but he put that thought aside.
"I'll read a little bit just so that you can see what I'm talking about. If you want, I'll find a digital version that you can read on your own. You'll have to learn English script if you want to continue reading on your own." William said apologetically.
When Ripa said nothing, the Spartan gestured to a sturdy wooden bench behind them along the back wall.
William gestured and the white demon took seat opposite of him on a different bench.
"The Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum." he began.
He carefully turned the yellowed page and began reading out loud.
"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife..."
Thank you for being a wonderful audience and for cheering me on in my work. I hope this short story was enjoyed.
Now, should I do this sort of thing more often? What are your thoughts? Feel free to review if you have any suggestions or comments of your own. I'd love to have them!
Yours in writing,
theotherpianist