Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 51

The village of the Wind-dancers was filled with mourning, the keening cry of loss mixed with tears of grief. Songs of lament carried through the still air, making the branches resonate as if they were shaking in sorrow. Lights were dimly lit and too many homes were silent, their occupants never coming back. Drakes fretted as the anguished aura washed over them, feeling the pain of their bonded riders, they shuffled on their perches and snapped their wings randomly as they shared in the grief. The Wind-dancer's noble effort to thwart the invasion of the Everforest had failed, they had fallen short and lost scores of their fellows to the brutal gunfire of the invaders.

Yet in a gaol shaped out of the heart of a tree Elhyn was not sharing the mourning, in fact he was angry. In the shallow cave the Mon-keigh prisoner sat on a stool grown from the material of the tree. He was bound by many ropes and his fine clothing was torn in places, his pistols were missing and his face was covered in bloody welts and many bruises. His time among the Eldar had not been kind, he had been beaten repeatedly yet stubbornly refused to talk. He was keeping his mouth shut no matter what. Elhyn's frustration was mounting, he needed to learn what this animal knew, the filthy ape held the key to understanding the invaders who had come to Athelling and in his head lurked the way to defeat them.

Panthiro's fist blurred as he struck the ape across the face once more and barked, "Speak!"

The Mon-Keigh kept his mouth shut as his eyes glaring defiance. Elhyn was sitting across from him on another stool, with Wyrmfang laid across his knees and in the crude tongue he uttered, "We can continue or you can tell us what we what to know."

The Mon-Keigh slurred through a mouthful of blood, "If I tell you, you'll have no reason to keep me alive."

Panthiro growled as he raised his bloody fists and snarled, "Then I'll beat it out of you, no matter how long it takes."

The ape worked his jaw painfully for a moment then spat defiantly, "I can last as long as I have to."

Elhyn was no expert in the uncouth language, he had only a smattering of words taken from the occasional prisoner before they were executed, yet he caught something in the expression. The Mon-keigh was weakening and in his delirium he had let something slip. He chewed on it for a second, trying to parcel the meaning from the language, then he saw it, the Mon-keigh thought his time here was limited because he assumed he would be rescued.

Elhyn leaned in and said, "No one is coming for you, your warrior-caste has left you to die."

For the first time the Mon-Keigh looked worried as he stammered, "No… they wouldn't."

Elhyn smirked as he said, "They carried on without you, flying to the Vale of Midnight Tears. They lifted not a finger to save you; they care not if you die at our hands."

The Mon-Keigh's expression fell and Elhyn jerked his head at Panthiro, indicating they should leave. The pair moved to the doorway and switched tongues to their native language as Elhyn said, "Let him chew on that for a time, despair will sap his will."

Panthiro growled, "Let me fetch a knife and I will be faster."

"We are not crude beasts, we have subtler arts than that," another voice interjected. That was Laegwen the Treesinger, she was waiting outside the door along with M'sgith and E'raye. They had been listening in, to discern anything the Mon-Keigh might unwittingly reveal. Elhyn looked at his sister and his grip on Wyrmfang shook in concern for the treesinger looked like she had aged three centuries since the invasion had begun. Her eyes were hollow pits and her hair was bedraggled, her skin was sickly and her shoulders were stooped. He understood why all too well, the Treesinger dove deeper into the song of Athelling than any other, she was a part of it. The Mon-Keigh invasion had violated the Everforest, tearing and rending the World spirit and Laegwen had felt it like it had been her own skin suffering under their filthy touch. Every tree felled, every bush burnt, every animal crushed under a caterpillar track, they were knives in her heart and the toll it took upon her was terrible indeed.

Thankfully E'raye interrupted to say, "We need that animal to talk, we've never faced a foe like this."

M'sgith agreed, "The normal Mon-Keigh we could have handled, but that warrior-caste were of a different order. We were no match for them."

Panthiro shook his head and said, "They must have a weakness, everything does, all we have to do is find it. Did your old tales say anything about how our fathers defeated the last lot?"

Elhyn sighed, "No, it was only a passing tale, brief and lacking in detail. I thought it was a mere skirmish but now I wonder if our forebears wished not to speak of it. If our own battle was any indication then it would be something they would want to forget.

Laegwen lamented, "Some things are too painful to remember, some loss too great to bear. Songs will not be sung of this day."

M'sgith hissed, "We can't give up, the Vale of Midnight Tears lies open and undefended. We have to act."

E'raye concurred, "The Kinsmoot draws near, many tribes united as one can beat this enemy."

"Only if they agree to fight beside us," Elhyn sighed, "Many of them have been our rivals for generations. We need something to convince them the threat is real. We need to show them how powerful this enemy is, else all our efforts are for nought."

Panthiro flexed his fists and said, "Give me another go, I can beat it out of him."

Laegwen's eyes became hard as she uttered, "There are more effective ways. I have tinctures and poultices that can beguile the spirit. With secret arts I can take force his mind open, admittedly there won't be much of his intellect left afterwards but it is a small price…"

Laegwen trailed off as her eyes went wide and she gazed over Elhyn's shoulder. He tensed as he sensed someone approaching and turned about to see his mother descending a flight of steps from a higher landing. The Dynast had been overseeing the rites of mourning and her face was marked with ceremonial tears of ash. Yet her regal bearing was unbroken, and her head was held high. At her belt were the twin Shuriken pistols taken from the prisoner, their elegant forms fitting her far better than they did the ape. She looked every inch the ruler of the kinband and her frown was not approving.

Celasia came to stand before them and passed her cool gaze over them as she asked, "What have you learned?"

Elyhn fought to keep his emotions in check as he answered, "We are working to loosen his tongue, it will take time to unearth his secrets."

Celasia didn't sound impressed as she stated flatly, "In other words you have discovered nothing."

Panthiro clenched his bloodied knuckles and declared, "Give the animal to me, I can break him."

The Dynast glanced at his bruised fists and then said, "No, you will cease your crude efforts."

Elhyn was surprised to hear that and protested, "But we need to learn what he knows."

Celasia nodded as she declared, "Indeed we do, but the Kinmoot is at dawn and we have not the time to wear this Mon-keigh down, they are a stubborn breed. Thankfully there is more than one way to skin a Pearacat. Force is but the rudest tool at a ruler's command. Panthiro, go to my chambers and bring me the largest chest, the one with the Wythlwood embossing."

Panthiro glanced at his friends but then set off towards the Dynast's chambers. Meanwhile Celasia adjusted her robe and squared her jaw. Laegwen cocked her head and asked, "What are you planning?"

Celasia replied, "I will show you how it's done."

Celasia stepped within the gaol and the others followed. Inside the Mon-Keigh remained tied down, his head lowered over his lap but he looked up as they entered, revealing his battered features. The Dynast lowered herself onto a stool across from him and primly adjusted her robes then lifted her chin and said in the crude Mon-Keigh tongue, "You have suffered."

The animal spat a bloody wad of phlegm onto the ground, making everybody grimace in disgust, then replied, "I've had worse."

Celasia stated calmly, "You don't have to suffer more; it is only your foolish pride that keeps you in pain."

The animal peered at her and said, "Oh I see, I've had the bad Arbites… now it's time for the good Arbites?"

Nobody understood that reference but Celasia replied, "I am the Dynast of the Wind-dancers, I rule these woods."

The Mon-Keigh grinned then to everybody complete surprise said in the Eldar language, "Good, I've been waiting for somebody with the authority to treat with me." Elhyn was stunned by the revelation that this animal spoke the Eldar tongue. True it was a hash of an accent, missing all the subtle inflexions and contextual intonations of a true speaker, but it wasn't a bad pass. Elhyn gulped as he thought back over their conversation and he wondered how much of their talk the Mon-Keigh had understood. There was more to this invader than he had realised.

However Celasia didn't so much as blink as she stated in the same tongue, "What is your name?"

"Saffor Teliday," the Mon-Keigh replied cautiously.

"Saffor," Celasia repeated as she drew a shuriken pistol and held it upright between them, "Where did you come by this?"

Saffor answered, "I didn't steal them off a corpse, if that's what you think. I'm a Rogue Trader; I traded for them fair and square."

"Not a general, no warmonger, merely a trader," Celasia mused in puzzlement and asked, "Is that a rank of importance among your kind?"

"Depends on who you ask," Saffor retorted, "I have many friends in high places and many enemies. I am a free agent mostly, I go wherever I want, fighting and trading and conquering as I will."

"A Corsair," Elhyn stated as understanding dawned.

Saffor glanced up and admitted, "I suppose so."

Celasia leaned in and asked, "Then why were you travelling with the invaders?"

Saffor shrugged as best he was able in his bonds and explained, "I have debts to pay and the prospect of treasure beckoned. We know about the lost starship and the bounty within is beyond compare."

"Treasure," E'raye spat, "You rape our forest and violate our forbidden borders for the sake of material baubles."

Saffor didn't look admonished as he said, "Every man has his price and there are many kinds of treasure. I'm sure there are things you desire, objects of such worth you wouldn't mind breaking a few rules to obtain."

Elhyn tightened his grip on Wrymfang, for that struck uncomfortably close to his heart. He had defied orders to acquire this weapon and the thought that he could have anything in common with a Mon-keigh was unsettling. Celasia however pressed, "And your friends, what do they want?"

Saffor's grin faded as he said, "That information is all that's keeping me alive, if I speak then you have no reason to keep me breathing."

Celasia's face became cold as she hissed, "If you keep silent we will kill you anyway. Is your life not worth a few words?"

Saffor snorted, "If I leave this place empty-handed I'm as good as dead anyway. I owe people, the kind of people who take debts very seriously."

Elhyn was about to bark out a threat but right then Panthiro returned, carrying a heavy chest in his arms. He set it down as Celasia uttered, "There is no reason for you to leave this place impoverished."

Saffor's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he muttered, "What's this?"

Celasia answered, "A man such as you would never yield to force, but the right lever can open any door. As you said: every man has his price."

With that her foot flicked open the lid of the chest, revealing the contents. Inside was the bounty of the Kinband's trade with the Craftworlds. There were fashioned jewels set in golden fittings of a quality beyond the hands of foolish Mon-Keigh artisans and glittering holo-devices. Delicate psychically-imbued crystals were piled next to intricate artefacts shaped out of precious Wraithbone. A tiny model of the galaxy as it was before the Fall was encased in a flawless resin sphere the size of a melon and there was a lute that hummed with the celestial music of the spheres. Such gewgaws were of little use to the hardy Exodites but they had been part of their trade deals with the Craftworlders, petty gifts to open the bartering in good faith. Elhyn saw Saffor's eyes go wide and knew the Mon-Keigh was calculating the net value of this chest amongst his kind. Such items must surely be worth a fortune in their stagnant and decrepit empire, the fact that they were illegal only making them more valuable in certain corners.

It seemed the Rogue Trader liked the result of his deliberations for he looked up and said, "You should have opened with this. So… what do you want to know?"

Celasia smiled serenely as she said, "Tell me of these warrior-caste Mon-Keigh. Tell me of their numbers, strategies and weapons. Talk of their strengths and weaknesses and reveal how I can beat them. Tell me everything."