Hello everyone!
Many thanks for getting this far! I realise my first chapter wasn't short, so your being here means I must have done good somehow. By the by, my thanks to DiegoRedeemedLover (DRL) for beta-ing this story for me!
Anyways, without further ado...
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Manny looked on, unsure whether he wanted to reel, cry, or just throw up at the sight in front of him. Peering through layers of glass, the herd didn't speak, staring at their fallen member. Diego lay unnervingly still in his bed, surrounded by instruments and doctors. Yet his eyes never stayed on anything else except the stump where his leg used to be. As a doctor walked up towards them, he finally willed his eyes to tear away from the bloodied stump.
"How is he, Nigel?" Frank asked quietly.
Nigel let out a sigh, ripping off his gloves.
"Diego's critical, but stable. We're keeping him sedated for the time being, and we want to keep him here for at least a week. If some of you could be present when he wakes up, that would ease the shock."
"We were going to do that anyway, even if you didn't let us," Manny replied gruffly. "When do you reckon he'll be awake?"
He watched the doctor keenly, sensing his weariness, his frustration, his...
He looks like he hasn't slept in days, he realised. Nigel rubbed his over-tired eyes,
"He won't be awake for the next day or so," He said.
"What happens then?" Ellie said.
"Once Diego's recovered, then we can offer him a prosthesis," Nigel replied. "There have been many advancements in prosthetics over the last few years; we can make it look, move and feel indistinguishable from a real limb...for all intents and purposes, it would be a real leg. And, given the healthy condition he was in prior to the incident, he could theoretically regain full use of it."
"Theoretically?" Ellie spluttered. "He has no leg. How can he regain full use of something's that's not there anymore?"
Frank reached out, clasping Ellie's tusk gently. His eyes never left Diego.
"A prosthesis is an artificial limb," He murmured. Manny saw tears in his eyes when he turned to look at Ellie. "He's getting a leg back."
"He's not going to see it that way," Mark replied mutedly. "You know he isn't."
"'oo would?" Buck said. "The guy loves to 'unt, an' 'e's going to wake up an' find 'is leg missing... 'e's going to 'ave a 'ard time with this. 'e's not going to take this well."
Manny nodded, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.
"Yeah," He said. "That's where we come in."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Frank awoke to the sounds of Bon Jovi, and the overpowering sensation that his body hated him. Several pained, agonising moments later, he sat himself up, allowing his eyes to focus. To his slight surprise, he - and the rest of the herd present - was still in the infirmary's waiting room, arrayed in positions he didn't think were possible. Realising the music was still playing, he reached groggily into his pocket, pulling out his phone,
"James, what are you doing calling me in the middle of the night?" He mumbled.
"Oh damn," James replied sarcastically. "My clock is nine hours fast again! There I was thinking it was the morning."
Frank froze.
"It's nine AM?" He asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.
"Indeed," James replied dryly. "And there's a certain judge waiting in Sam's office for all of you."
"Dammit," He groaned. "All right, tell her we'll be there as soon as possible."
Phone tucked away, Frank knew what he had to do. He slowly stood up, carefully placed himself outside of the range of Manny's trunk, and yelled,
"GOOD MORNING EVERYONE! WE'RE LATE! GET UP!"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
The Right Honourable Justice Helen Johnson sat back, listening to tales of destruction and death -of skeletons in caves, battles and collapsing valleys - and felt her mind reeling from the information she had just received. It felt like too much, too quickly; she had hoped for a fairly dull, normal session in court when she awoke the day before.
As she sat there- a mere twenty four hours later - she wasn't sure what normal was anymore.
Her gaze flickered between all of the people present; from Captain Howard and Lieutenant Ericsson, over the mammoths, onto the possums, sloth, weasel and woman that had sat down around her. She stared at them, thinking of all the times she had heard their stories as a child, reading up on similar stories about them in countless religious and mythological traditions as a teenager, and had actively doubted the existence of as an adult. Yet there she sat, listening to them, looking at them, knowing that she could reach out and touch them...
There are churches named after you, she thought at them, Mosques! Synagogues! Temples! How are you real? How can you be here?
"...and, with Soto gone, and nothing left to threaten us, we decided to make a life for ourselves," Manny continued, snatching her attention back to him. "And, eight years later, here we are!"
"Well," Mark said. "Except for what happened...you know, the Bredelands?"
Frank smirked faintly,
"Seeing as that's what the tribunal's about, my guess is that story can-"
"Wait?" Every member of the herd present - Sam included - said in unison.
After a few moments silence, everyone bar Helen burst into laughter. She looked at them in shock. They seemed almost too real to her. She had never wondered what it would be like to meet such people, but she had always read them as otherworldly, aloof...
At no point did she expect jokes about each other's verbal tics to come into the fray. Neither did she expect them to drink; it took all her willpower to keep her eyebrows perfectly still as Frank reached over for his fifth glass of whiskey. She checked her watch to be certain,
Biblical characters apparently don't mind getting drunk by noon, she noted.
"So, your honour," Manny said. His brow furrowed for a moment. "What is your name? Calling you 'your honour' just seems weird."
She sat up, suddenly aware of all the eyes falling on her.
"My name's Helen," She replied falteringly. "Helen will do just fine."
"All right, Helen," Manny said. "What do you think?"
Her tongue suddenly felt like lead in her all-too-dry mouth.
"I-" She stuttered. "I-...How are you real? How can you possibly be real?"
"Ay?" The weasel - Buck, she reminded herself - exclaimed. "Wot kind of question is that, 'elen?"
"Easy, Buck," Sam said softly. "The lady has just discovered that some central myths to our society are, in fact, real. You should be glad she's merely drifting into shock rather than lashing out."
"I'm not drifting into shock," She replied too quickly. "I'm just...how are any of you real? How is this possible? I-I-I-"
"'Ere, mate," Buck said, passing over a glass of whiskey. "It'll 'elp."
She took the glass, avidly downed the drink in one and placed the glass on the table, avoiding all the surprised stares in her direction as she did so.
"I take it this might just, in fact, be a little bit of a shock then?" Frank said ambivalently, even as he was refilling her glass.
She chuckled, downing the next drink in one as well,
"Shock isn't the word I'd use," She remarked. "Actually...I'm not sure whatword would be. This is...well, this is a lot to take in. I just found out one of the oldest myths on earth are fact rather than fiction. It does tend to be a shock when that happens."
She looked down at her glass, suddenly realising just how much she had drunk in such a short space of time. Placing the glass firmly down, she glanced over at Sam, waving off any attempt by Frank to refill her glass.
"Dare I ask when the events to be detailed in the tribunal actually occurred?" She asked wryly.
"About twenty thousand years ago," Sam replied.
"Twenty thousand and forty nine years ago, if one wishes to be exact."
Everyone stared at Sid, who pretended to be more interested in the book he was reading, not bothering to hide his smug smile at the herd's surprised expressions. Looking past the sloth, Helen sat up, only then realising that it was much later than she thought. She glanced at the clock, winced, and stood up, quickly smoothing any crinkles that had cropped up on her shirt.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen," She said hurriedly. "It has been an immense surprise, but an absolute honour all the same."
"You're leaving already?" Frank quizzed, rising sloppily out of his seat.
"It was morning when we sat down," She stated. "It is now about two o' clock. I need to get ready for the court session this afternoon," She smirked. "As do you, Captain; if it is not too troublesome to your eminent selves, I would like to see you in the courtroom today at four for the tribunal."
Manny shrugged, eyes clearly suggesting 'Why not?'. Frank nodded, extending his hand out to her, which she eventually took.
"We'll see you later, then," Frank stated. "Good afternoon, your honour."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Seated back in the courtroom, Frank didn't even need to look around to know that the only persons present were the herd seated in the viewing gallery above, several guards, overdressed officials, Sam and Hudson. He twiddled his thumbs, trying to ignore the nervous fidgeting of the sabre beside him, even as he tried to resist removing the regalia that Sam insisted he wear. Several moments had passed before he shot a questioning glance at Sam, gesturing towards the empty room,
"Let me guess; everyone present yesterday have suddenly - and immediately - found themselves re-assigned to long term duty in eras that are at least a thousand years in the past from this moment." He quipped.
She shot him a smile that held more warmth than he expected,
"Possible," She said, winking. "Or, they were told nine o' clock tomorrow morning."
He furrowed his brow,
"Then why are we here today?" He asked.
"Judge's prerogative," She replied, her smile fading. "Frank, do me a favour; today, can you just...just try and not-"
"Tell the truth?" He remarked flatly.
"Cause me more headaches," She finished, frowning.
Glancing up at the viewing gallery, Frank took in the sight of the rest of the herd - barring Diego, Ben and Peaches - looking on with a collective look that could be safely described as tired. He frowned, eyes once more on the judge's empty dais.
"You're not the only one getting headaches from this case." He grunted.
Before Sam could reply, the guard had announced the judge's arrival. Frank stared at the judge, her eyes intently staring back.
"Good afternoon everyone," She stated. "Please be seated."
Frank went through the motions, giving his oath to tell only the truth when asked to, and taking a seat in the witness stand when asked to. He sat there, gingerly waiting.
"Captain," Judge Johnson said. "In light of the evidence - both public and privately issued yesterday and this morning - I should like you to detail and explain your perspective on the days leading up the beginning of the events to be investigated in this tribunal."
He glanced out at the empty room,
"If I may enquire, your honour, as to why the courtroom is empty for such a request?"
"Context, captain," She replied. "As the presiding judge of this case, it would be immensely helpful to understand the world in which the events take place. Also, as far as the Secretary General informs me, the 'public' in this trial are only present because their commands were supposedly affected by the outcome of the events,"
He winced, suddenly understanding the anger aimed at him the day before.
"And thus, by my reckoning, they would only need to know of the events themselves, not their context," The judge said. "Whereas I would very much like to know."
"Ok, then I would be happy to oblige. From which point would your honour wish me to proceed from?"
"The day of the beginning of the events in question, Captain," the judge replied. "If you please."
He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, trying to recall what had happened in the run up to everything that had happened to them.
With a sinking heart, he knew it unquestionably began with Diego...
-x-x-x-x-x-
The valley looked serene, calm and peaceful. In the distance, Frank could hear the waters of a nearby stream trickle quietly as it wended its way through the forests. Trees rustled gently in the wind as their leaves were bathed in the brilliant light of the summer sun. He scanned the vista, admiring it briefly, and his senses declared the place empty.
Yet he knew it was brimming with people. People with spears, and even a few who had learnt to use a bow.
People who, clearly, had finally learnt how to hide themselves.
"Not bad," A voice murmured beside him. "Not bad at all. Can't see them anywhere."
He glanced sideways at the owner of the voice. Barring the black belt strapped around his waist to hold his radio, the sabre hadn't aged a day in all the time he had known him. Frank grinned,
"Seems like we've trained them well." He murmured.
The human smirked slightly,
"Almost too well, if we can't find them," He replied. He shot a mirth-filled glance at him. "I blame you for that, Diego."
Diego chuckled quietly.
"That's rich, coming from the guy who taught them how to use spears," His gaze flickered down at the rifle, and back up at the human's eyes. "You have remembered to put paint-shots and not actual bullets in this time, right? Frank?"
Frank slumped slightly,
"Are you going to bring that up every time?" He groaned. "That was one time, and a year ago at that! Let it drop, please?"
"Scared the life out of Ronald, though," Diego replied, smirking. "That kid was-"
Diego stopped himself, ears twitching as if he strained to hear. Listening intently, Frank heard it too; subtle though it was, he heard a sound. The distinct sound of a twig snapping, barely thirty yards away from them behind a rock outcropping. He smirked to himself;
First mistake, he thought. Finally.
He paused a few moments, allowing the incoming attacker to believe he went undetected. Excitement welled up in him, his muscles tensing slightly in anticipation. Without moving, he cast his eyes upwards, seeing the same look on Frank's face.
"Show time," Frank whispered.
"Show time," Diego agreed.
In an instant, both of them flew into motion. Diego leapt onto the boulder, pouncing on the would-be attacker with a speed borne of practice. The sheer force of the impact sent the attacker - a sabre only slightly smaller than Diego - tumbling. With one swipe he smacked the spear out of the sabre's right paw, pinning the animal firmly to the ground. A mere moment later, Frank rushed beside him, rifle trained at the immobilised form. Without so much as a breath, he squeezed the trigger.
The rifle sounded muted, almost comically silent, as it fired. The form yelped out in pain as paint exploded onto his fur, staining it a bright blue.
"And you're out!" Diego murmured, grinning slightly. "Nice try Mark."
Mark let out a groan, mingled with displeasure at being caught, and a hint of pain. Job done, Diego allowed the sabre to wriggle out of his grip.
"I was so sure you didn't see me this time!" He grumbled.
For a moment, Diego forgot what they were doing, and gently placed his paw on the young sabre's shoulder,
"Don't beat yourself up, kid," He said gently. "You did good, really good, to get this close."
Mark smiled slightly,
"Thanks, Dee," He replied. "But that didn't stop me getting a paintball to the gut."
Diego grinned, giving Mark a strong pat on the back,
"One day you'll get out of this paintless," He said. "I can promise you that! Now get back to the training arena, we've got twenty other would-be attackers to cover in paint!"
Mark nodded and promptly slunk his way back through the trees, eventually disappearing from view. Diego looked on proudly; he knew the kid was beating himself up, but he really did do well; Frank could tell that the fact Mark had gotten within thirty yards without Diego's keen sense of hearing - or smell - picking up on his approach impressed the old sabre no end.
"You know, it's a hard life sometimes, being a teacher," Frank murmured.
Diego turned in time to see a cheeky smirk painted on the human's face. He couldn't help but chuckle,
"Easy for you to say," He retorted. "You get to shoot students practically daily."
"And you get to practically maul them," Frank responded.
"True."
Smiles crept onto their faces, morphing into wide, toothy grins,
"Ready to go hunt some more?" Frank asked.
"You even need to ask?"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Frank and Diego stood in front of twenty one bruised, sore students. All of them had some form of bright blue paint on their bodies, and all of them looked displeased.
Whether it was because of their getting caught, or the shame of being painted, Frank didn't know. But as he looked at the sea of blue paint, he had to use all of his will to stifle the laughter rising up in him; granted, they might not appreciate being covered in paint, but that just made it all the more amusing.
He knew that exerting his will to suppress the laughter made it look like he was wearing a disappointed scowl, but he reckoned the students would rather see that than him pointing and laughing his lungs out.
"All right!" He said loudly. "Listen up!"
The bunch of disgruntled animals silenced immediately, all eyes fixed on Frank. He took the time to look at all of them in the eyes. It was hard for him to be stern with them; he knew their families, and some of them were Ben's friends...
And Mark is family, his mind added.
He shook the thoughts aside; he needed to be stern. It could be the difference between life and death. With that in mind, he took a deep breath,
"Today's training exercise went well," He stated. "But we had some mistakes. Mistakes that could cost lives."
He paused, allowing the thought to simmer.
"If you want to be a member of the militia, defending our borders from beasts and packs that would want for nothing more than to eat your family and friends, we .mistakes."
He turned and nodded at Diego, who promptly moved forward to address the group, whose heads were all now turned down.
"Let me first start off by congratulating you all on being almost unseen," He said, casting a glance at Mark and smiled. The sabre smiled back.
"But Frank is right; almost unseen is still not good enough. When you are tracking an invading group, you cannot pause or freeze or wait for them to make the first move. If you have a clear shot, or means of immobilising them, take it. Also remember to take care where you step; every snapped twig or even the sound of a leaf crushing could alert them to your presence."
The group looked sullen and downcast. Frank winced inside; he knew then that they had been too tough on them. Suddenly their appearances lost all amusement for him. He took a deep breath, letting his shoulders slump slightly.
"Look, guys," He said softly. "I know we are being hard on you. But that's because we care; if you are spotted before you can properly fight them off, then there's a chance you could get injured, maybe even killed. We care about you guys, and want to train you to be the best you can be,"
He smiled slightly as he saw his words have the intended effect. The sullenness was gone, replaced by something akin to understanding.
"The truth is, you guys did really, really well today, and we are proud of you," The students now smiled. Good, he thought. "Please remember that we are only hard on you because we care. If a pack tries to enter our borders they won't be friendly. They will aim to kill you, and then kill your families. That is why we train you - and all the militia - this hard; you will be essentially the only thing standing between lions and tigers and bears...and your friends, families and loved ones."
He knew they knew this. Everyone who signed up for militia training knew this. But if there was one, inalienable truth that Frank had learnt anything over the years, it was that people needed to hear something aloud time and time again, even if only to remember the importance of it.
"Well done, everyone," Diego said, cutting through Frank's thoughts. "Now go, get cleaned up, go home and have lunch. We'll see you tomorrow at mid-morning. Class dismissed."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Frank had long come to the conclusion that the village, no matter how large it grew, had a rhythm of its own; it was so predictable, things could be timed by its waxing and waning activities. He didn't even need to look at the sky to know what time of day it was; with children darting about his feet as they were weaving their way through the thronging main street, he knew it had to be noon.
"Ah, the sweet serenity of village life," He remarked dryly. "All we need is some smog, a few traffic jams, and we'll be all set."
Though the sabre smiled faintly, Frank knew he wasn't really paying attention.
"You want to say something," He said. "So say it."
"Do you think we've got enough militia now?" Diego asked earnestly.
Frank tried to shrug, but found himself quickly dodging an antelope running in the opposite direction. Lesson learnt, he opted to focus on not dying and waited until they were safely out of the village to answer.
"This isn't a small valley, Dee; Sid and Buck's most recent guess placed the valley's population at almost twenty thousand-"
"Yeah, but," Diego contented.
"-and, if we don't count the twenty or so we're training at the moment, we only have a militia of about two hundred to protect them," He continued. "And besides, given what happened to the...other herd...it seems better to be safe than sorry. Do I need to remind you that the Remnant have threatened us again recently?"
"Yeah, but that's exactly it," Diego stated, pausing just at the base of hill that led to the homestead. "For almost a decade, the Remnant have been all talk and no action-"
"Thankfully." Frank added quickly. The sabre nodded in agreement,
"Thankfully. But what I'm sayin' is that two hundred is more than enough to protect the valley. Especially if they had rifl-"
Not this again.
For years, Frank had had to endure the same argument aimed at himself, which he then dealt with by aiming it at Sam. Every single time it was the same; the valley would demand rifles, Sam would say no, Frank got it in the neck because she said no, the valley proceeded by demanding rifles. And her response was always as original.
"This might come as a shock to you," He interjected mockingly. "But I often ponder her argument from the shiny advanced truck we have, equipped with all the latest gadgets, in the shadow of our very own, distinctly large, time machine. And - here's the shocking part - I tend to find her arguments just as specious as you do. So leave me be on this matter, ok?"
"Yeah, but-" Diego attempted.
Frank promptly let his view on the matter be known. For several moments, they walked up the hill in silence.
"Just for the record, that phrase makes no sense," Diego said curtly. "You need to brush up on your anatomy if you think it's even possible for Sam's head to be shoved up her own a-"
"YOU!"
Manny's trunk pointed accusingly at Frank, leading everyone's gaze to the near-murderous stare of his. Seated as he was in the homestead, opposite Buck, Frank couldn't help but smile.
The mammoth was playing chess, and it didn't take a master to tell he was losing.
Terribly.
"YOU!" Manny once more accused. "You knew this would happen! You brought this game into my life to make me miserable."
"You love chess," Frank corrected him, promptly dropping himself onto the nearest chair to watch the game. "And you have made losing at it into such a beautiful art form."
"Yeah," Manny conceded. "I suck at it. Don't deny it Frank, you knew; somehow you knew I would love this game, and suck at it and-"
"Apparently I also knew you would successfully manage to lose every game you ever played?" He said, smiling insinuatingly.
Manny snorted at him derisively, dismissing the argument he knew he had lost and returned to the game...which he was also losing. Frank knew the mammoth well enough to know when he's stuck.
And Manny was definitely stuck.
The pachyderm's eyes darted across the board, trying to find a way out of the vice like grip he had found himself in. Yet no matter where he looked, what plan could be seen formulating in his eyes, he slowly deflated, realising there was no way out for his king. He glared at the weasel sitting opposite him, eyes full of resentment for ever putting him in such a position.
Buck sat there, smugly relaxed on his seat,
"It's yer move, mate!" Buck said, snapping Manny out of his pondering. "It isn't easy beatin' ya if you aren't gonna move."
"Don't rush me!" Manny snapped, more forcefully than he intended. Everything about him positively screamed that he wanted to win, was desperate to win. Just this once.
His trunk moved slowly towards the board, yet not before he shot Frank a glance that could only be described as;
Damn you Frank! Damn you for getting me into this game!
Seeing his options collapse around him, he forced himself to make the only move he could. Begrudgingly, he moved his queen in front of his king, blocking Buck's rook.
"Ah!" Buck said, smirking. "I 'ad an inklin' you'd do that!"
"It's the only thing I could do," Manny replied bluntly. He cast his glance back to the board with a defeated, knowing look as to what would happen. "Just make your move."
At a snail's pace, the weasel moved his rook forward, supplanting Manny's queen.
And that was that; Manny the moody mammoth had lost. Again.
"Checkmate!" Buck said gleefully.
"I hate you," Manny said flatly, looking at Frank. "If I could go back in time and sit on you and kill you before you gave Buck the idea of carving some tree into this torture you call a game, I would."
"But Manfred dearest," Frank replied sarcastically. "How ever would you win then?"
His look alone was a paean to irritation.
"Did I mention I hate you?" He said casually. "Oh, and you missed a council meeting, by the way."
"We were busy," Diego replied. "Students to teach, ya know."
"You mean students to shoot and maul, right?" Manny retorted, letting out a little sigh. "Why is it I get council meetings and you get all the fun stuff?"
"'Cos ya love it too, if yer being 'onest," Buck replied. "Ya didn't miss much at the meetin', fellas, just a bunch'a complaints."
Both Diego and Frank turned to Manny, waiting for him to explain.
"Apparently," The mammoth began, his tone as bored as it was possible to affect. "The villages near the sea are complaining they need more housing, so I've sent Ben over to check it out - he's borrowed Ian, by the way. The farmers on the northern slopes are complaining that they are having problems with whatever, so Claire and Ellie's gone over there...oh and Keira brings word that there are rumours that the main village would like some supplies...and by bringing word, I mean volumes of paper. And by rumours, I mean fact. And by some supplies, I mean this,"
Frank wanted to shrink into a little ball as Manny placed a small mountain of paper into view. He knew every single sheet was scrawled - on both sides - with requests.
"There are times when I regret our decision to teach reading and writing to more than just our herd," Frank lamented. "Funnily enough, those regrets resurface about the same time as council meetings are held."
He remained slumped, not needing to see Manny's face; he could picture the smug look the mammoth wore in his mind's eye.
"Do you want to call your sister, or shall I?" He said insinuatingly.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Could you confirm for the court that your sister is, in fact, Secretary General Samantha Daniels?" Justice Johnson stated, cutting through Frank's train of thought. He shuffled in his chair, carefully avoiding the glances he was getting from Sam.
"Yes, she is," He stated.
"Thank you," She replied. "Please continue."
"With respects, your honour," He said. "The normal events of our lives - in between the adventures we seem to find ourselves in - are fairly mundane; we help out the villages, ensure they thrive and try and keep the peace, as much as can be kept."
"You mean you govern them?" She asked.
He shrugged,
"Not really," He reply. "But they normally come to us to sort out any issues they have."
"And do the population have any of their own number to represent them?"
He blinked, taken aback by the question.
"Yes," Frank rebutted, trying hard to hide the offence he felt. "We are part of the village council; we aren't the whole council, and we certainly do not lord it over them."
She nodded in satisfaction. Nothing about her stance suggested she even realised how cutting her question was. He swallowed hard, trying to let it slide.
"Very good," She said. "In which case, let us move on to the beginning of the events being investigated. Can you please beg-"
"With respects, your honour," He said cooly. "If you desire a chronological rendition of the events, I will have to pass over to either Mark or Manny."
Or even Sam, he added mentally.
Justice Johnson nodded slowly,
"Very well."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Mark's stomach had churned when he found out he would testify the next morning. Staring out at the over-packed courtroom, he longed to be invisible. No matter where he looked, he saw nothing but eyes. Eventually, he fixed his gaze on the floor.
Cheers Frank, he thought ruefully.
"When you are ready, Lieutenant, please proceed." The judge said.
He took several deep breaths, trying as hard as he could not to panic. He wished he could speak in front of the Bredeland's Council, in front of the herd, in front of any group but several hundred annoyed, uniformed people. He took several more deep breaths, resigning himself to his situation.
"It wasn't long after the events Fra- ah- Captain Howard stated earlier, your honour," He said tentatively. "I was heading away from the village, looking for somewhere to clean up. The worst part about getting shot in training was the paint; it never seemed to want to wash out. I could scrub until I rubbed my fur off, but it would still be there-"
"What does this have to do with anything, Lieutenant?" The judge asked.
"It does, your honour," He added quickly. "I just wanted it to be clear, your honour, so that you understand how occupied I was in trying to clean up..."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Mark scrubbed, ignoring the aches and pains the actions gave him, hoping no one saw him in such a humiliating pose. Looking down, he convinced himself that the pain was fading, and scrubbed even harder.
"Ahem, excuse me sir?"
He spun round in shock, convinced he was alone. Scanning around him, he was certain of it.
"Pardon me, sir," The voice said. "But I am up here."
Craning his neck, it took him more than a few glances to finally spot the bird, perched on a branch above him, staring back at him with curiosity. The bird bowed, much to his bemusement,
"Greetings," The bird said. "I was wondering if you could help me; is this the Val do Resto?"
"The what?" Mark replied.
"The Val do-"
"I heard you the first time," Mark interjected. "Saying it twice won't make me understand."
"Apologies," The bird replied, bowing courteously. "I have not been so far beyond our borders before; I shouldn't have expected for our terms to be understood in the Ademais."
Borders? Mark sat up, looking up at the bird in puzzlement.
"Who are you looking for?" He asked.
"The Victors of Halstead Pass," The bird replied. "Do you know if they reside here?"
He raised an eyebrow at the title; they had been called many things over the years until the storytellers had had all seemingly finally settled on the Guardians. He hadn't heard his herd be called the Victors for almost a decade. He studied the bird with curiosity, intrigued as to where he could have come from.
"They reside here," Mark stated cautiously. "Why do you want to see them?"
The bird took a deep breath, puffed itself up, and spoke so quickly and fluently that Mark had difficulty keeping up,
"I bear a message from the most honoured William, Regent of the Bredelands and leader of the Council of Elders, for the persons known in our dioceses by the appellation of 'The Victors of Halstead Pass' whom, I have been lead to presume, reside within this valley,"
The bird paused a moment, studying the sabre. "Would you be so kind, good fellow, as to direct me to these persons?"
After letting the sentence sink in a little, Mark felt very awkward. Though covered in paint and half drenched, he belatedly tried to make myself look imposing.
He knew, from the look in the bird's eye, that it didn't work.
"You're speaking with one," He replied.
This seemingly impressed the messenger even less.
"I'm sure," The bird replied politely, yet Mark could hear the condescension in his voice. "Now, if you please, could you direct me towards where they would be?"
Hoping it would reclaim some of his lost standing in the eyes of the bird, he did more than he was asked and yanked the radio from its holster on his waist,
"Mark to all herd members," He said firmly, eyes fixed on the bird's. "We've got a visitor."
"Yeah, and?" Manny retorted. "We get visitors all the time, kid!"
He couldn't resist smiling as the flash of shock and realisation dawned on the bird's face.
"This one's different," He replied. "He says he comes from the Bredelands, at the request of some Regent and a Council."
"You what?" Manny spluttered back.
"Did you just say the Bredelands?" Claire's voice quizzed.
"Sure sounded like that," Ellie's voice chimed in.
"I'm taking him to the homestead," Mark said, cutting short the herd's commentary. "Meet us there in twenty minutes."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
It felt like an eternity before everyone was finally together. Yet, slowly but surely, the herd began to arrive. To Mark's surprise, Manny was late. He shot a quizzical look at Diego, sat next him. The sabre merely shrugged.
"Manny's never late," Mark whispered. "What gives?"
"He has a hormonal imbalance," Diego replied quietly. "Some things make him go a bit stra-"
"All right," Manny said gruffly, studying the bird keenly as he dropped himself into an empty spot. "We're here, we're listening, so spit it out."
Mark winced at the distinctly cold greeting. He felt sorry for the little bird, seeing as he was surrounded by twelve utterly unfamiliar people, all of them staring at him intently. He noted, though, that the messenger bore it well; he didn't seem at all fazed.
"Very well then," He murmured as he cleared his throat.
"To the members of the association known in tale and song as 'the Victors of Halstead Pass', from William - Regent, Theodora - Chancellor, and the Council of Elders of all eighty nine dioceses of the Bredelands, greetings. We have recently taken captive a person of whom we have been counselled to enquire with you about. Therefore, if it pleases yourselves, you are cordially invited to meet with the Regent and Chancellor about the person in question. Please refer your answer with the messenger we have sent you and, if you can, send also an estimation of how long it will be before you can reach our borders, so that we may arrange an appropriate reception. Farewell."
The herd remained motionless, staring in stupefaction at the bird. Mark knew everyone was thinking the same thing, and that it was the least important thing of what was said that they were thinking about. Sure enough, Sid leant over to Diego and whispered so loudly he might as well have shouted it,
"Um, did the bird just talk about himself in the third person?"
"Yeah," Diego whispered back. The bird rolled his eyes,
"It is my profession, sire," The bird shot back, tone tinged with irritation. "I am a messenger; it is required of us that we memorise the message as given us, and to relay it as given us. And what message do you have for the Regent?"
Mark blinked, surprised at the question.
"Wait, what?" He said. "You expect us to just drop what we are doing at a moment's notice? Why are you that sure we'll even come?"
His question was drowned out in the din of a torrent of other questions;
"Who's the prisoner?"
"You were counselled? By who?"
"One question at a time, if you will!" The bird snapped in exasperation, silencing all of us. "To the first, the prisoner is a human-"
"What?" Frank gasped.
"To the second," The bird continued. "We consulted Breda, who directed us onto this course."
"Who?" Ellie said.
The messenger's expression shifted from annoyance to confusion,
"Surely you know who Breda is?" He asked. "Being a mammoth you must hark from the Bredelands, surely?"
True to form, Ellie merely shrugged and smiled,
"My possum parents must have missed that part of my heritage out when raising me," She replied. "So who is Breda?"
"She is our Counsellor and our Guide," The bird stated. "She has been with us since she called the First Regents in days immemorial."
Frank stared incredulously,
"Seriously?" He replied derisively. "You're asking for our help because some mythical goddess sent you lightning and entrails?"
"No," The bird replied forcefully. "We came to you because she personally spoke with our Regent. And she is not our goddess, nor is she mythical; she is simply our guide."
Mercifully, Frank snorted, sat back, and said nothing else. Mark looked to Manny, pleading with his eyes to break the silence that now hung over them.
"Manny?" He said. "Still here?"
Manny utterly ignored him, still staring at the bird. To Mark's surprise, it wasn't surprise or incredulity or any other response the herd had shown; the mammoth looked distinctly shocked.
"William?" Manny said slowly. "As in William, the son of Abelard?"
Something changed in the bird that Mark couldn't place, because suddenly he was studying Manny intensely.
"Correct," He murmured slowly. "And whose son are you, sire?"
"Ah...Clovis." Manny answered ambivalently.
The shock seemed to surge through the messenger so suddenly; Mark reckoned he had to be having a heart attack,
"WHAT!" The messenger exclaimed. "But but-b-b-b-that cannot be! The son of Clovis is dead!"
"Surprise!" Manny replied, grinning sarcastically.
The bird took several deep breaths, and then a few more, slowly calming down. Once more collected, the messenger stared cautiously at Manny.
"So you really are Manfred?" He quizzed. "Manfred, the son of Clovis?"
Everyone sat up; the bird hadn't been told any of their names - thanks to Manny's brusque entry - yet he seemed to know Manny's well enough. Every set of eyes rested on the mammoth, both his face and the herd's expressions telling two sides; the herd wanted to know how a messenger knew his name so well, Manny's expression said he didn't want to talk about it. Brow furrowed, Manny let out a long sigh,
"Thanks for that," Manny remarked at the bird. "Now fly home, and tell Will that we're setting out tomorrow, and should be at Porcupine Gorge in a week...oh, and," He added, pausing the bird in mid flap. "Let him know I'm ok, ok?"
The messenger bowed his head in acknowledgement, looked to the sky, and disappeared quickly, leaving Manny squirming as the centre of attention.
"So," Diego said. "You look sprightly for a dead guy."
"Care to explain?" Frank added.
Manny glared at all of them as he turned to leave,
"No." He grunted. "Now pack your bags and get ready; we're leaving at first light."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
End of Chapter 2
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
What did you think? Let me know my clicking that beautiful collection of words below, the ones with the word 'review' in it. Constructive criticism always welcome (although i stress that constructive criticism is constructive).
Hopefully I won't keep you all waiting for too long for chapter 3! With luck, there should be another chapter up somewhere in early march.
Either way, till chapter 3, adios!