He Watches The Dark
It seemed the narms had kept their word.
As it was recounted to Ben later, his confrontation with Scarface the previous night had been the last anyone had seen of the narms for two days. The morning following the confrontation, Shaarm had decided that it was worth the risk to take the injured, including Ben and Tiki, by road to Tzsaaf. She and Porra, each with their ark of injured, had set off without any further hesitation, and the remaining villagers had watched the landspeeders depart from behind the safety of the Fence. They had all been expecting at any moment to see the vehicles swarmed by ambushing shapes, but instead the speeders had passed steadily and quietly out of sight, and the narms made no appearance. Grandmother had next sent out scouting groups of the youngest and fastest Kheelians to check the area around. The remains of the narms' destruction were everywhere, but of the beasts themselves there was no sign.
The Kheelians who had lost their lives were quietly laid to rest in the burial ground on the hill behind the village. According to the customs of their people, the bodies were each curled up into a large earthenware jar, into which were scattered handfuls of seeds. The jars were covered over by a mound of earth, and when the Rising came around again, the flower seeds would grow, and paint the hillsides with colour.
The villagers began the slow task of returning the evacuated Kheelians to their homes, a business made all the more melancholy for the knowledge that three of their number would never be returning home, and an entire family whose farm had burned had no home to return to . Several households from within the village arranged to host displaced families while rebuilding took place, while others formed large groups to accompany elderly or frightened Kheelians back to their homes, and to help them with their repairs.
Grandmother had her hands full with the most needy of her people for the time being, and had decided to stay at the village that night. Chana, Pakat and Ooouli had formed a larger party with several others of their nearest neighbours from the valley to make the return journey, taking with them tools and resources borrowed from Nenka's stores. Although the distance home was not long, they stopped several times along the way to assist other Kheelians. One of their detours took them to Kadat's house. The old Kheelian and his frail wife had been fortunate – despite the fight which had taken place within the heart of it, their home had mostly gone unscathed. The narms had been too busy with Ben and the others to cause much damage. The corpses of two narms lay on the carpet in the living room; one was missing a paw, and the second had been eviscerated. Ben had killed them both. Pakat and Chana dragged the corpses from the house, and buried them at the edge of the fields. Ooouli had stood with her back to the house the entire time, and would not go inside.
Just after midday, they had finally reached their own home by the cliffs. For a long time, the Kheelians had just stood staring at it in dismay. Chana's effort to block the windows and doors had not kept the narms out for long, and it looked as if an army of them had torn through the place. Pakat stepped over the twisted remains of the front door, shivering. If Ben had not insisted that they leave for the village, Chana and the children would still have been in the house when the narms arrived. The night would almost certainly have ended far more tragically.
They had stood staring at the ruined furniture and torn furnishings of their home for a long time, before it was Ooouli who had eventually called them to action. Tiki and Ben would be home from the hospital in a few hours, she had told them, and she didn't want them to see the house like this. Tiki would be upset, and Ben's forehead would do that wrinkly thing which meant he was worried but didn't want them to know. The trio had quickly set about tidying and cleaning the devastation the narms had left. Pakat worked on repairing the electrical generator while Ooouli collected up their scattered possessions, and Chana dragged broken pieces of furniture outside.
Shaarm's father's vase, they discovered, had finally received the ignominious end it deserved.
By mid-afternoon, it had become apparent that one of Grandmother's teams had repaired the communications cabling that the narms had torn up somewhere outside the village, and Shaarm called on the comm-box. Ben's surgery had gone well, she had told them, and they would be setting off for home in a few hours after he had rested. This had renewed the group's efforts, and by the time dusk had fallen and they heard the engine of the landspeeder coming up the hill, the broken furniture had been cleared away, the smashed glass and plastoids swept out, and the missing roof panels were replaced.
Shaarm carried Tiki up to the house with Ben at her side. Pakat met them by the new front door, which appeared to have been improvised from a panel of the salvaged ship. Even after their hours of work, the damage to the house was clear to see to the newcomers. There was barely a window in the place that was not covered by temporary plastoid sheeting, and the dome of the roof had been patched in several places. The roof in Ben's sleeping room had caved in entirely. Shaarm and Ben hid their dismay, however, and let Ooouli show them all the items she had salvaged. She gave them a tour of the repairs she and her fathers had already made, and then announced that dinner was almost prepared. From Ben's perspective, this latter news was the best he had heard all day. He hadn't eaten anything since the previous night in preparation for the surgery, and the smell of the food as they came in from the cold quickly reminded him he was starving.
The family gathered on the floor to eat their meal as the table was still being used as a workbench. For the Kheelians, Chana had thrown together a hot, rich, red-coloured stew. Ben's meal consisted of sliced fruit, a bowlful of small pebble-shaped 'nutrient biscuits' that Shaarm had bought that afternoon from a pet shop, and a very large serving of painkillers. Perfection.
Everyone was too tired to attempt any further work that night. There was no question of the girls sleeping in their room after all the disturbances of the past few days, and Ben's bedroom was still full of debris, so the family began moving sleeping mats and bedding into the main bedroom where Chana, Pakat and Shaarm slept. Tonight, no-one would be alone.
Ben took advantage of the Kheelians' distraction and slipped outside, needing a moment alone. He leaned against the wall of the house, sipping the last of his tea, and looking up at the shadow of the cliffs. This time tomorrow, he and Grandmother would be in negotiation with a species with whom he could barely communicate and had no real idea what it was they wanted. The stakes? The peace of the valley. Saving the Kheelian way of life, their principles, and yes, perhaps even their lives.
No pressure, then.
"A credit for them?"
Ben startled. He hadn't noticed Shaarm following him out of the house. "I'm sorry?"
"Your thoughts," she clarified, settling against the wall beside him. "Your mind is an unfathomable place, Ben, and I was just wondering what was on it this time."
"Oh. Well, actually I was just thinking about how every time I thought I was communicating with the narms, I was either in quite a lot of pain, oxygen deprived, or on really jolly quantity of painkillers," Ben confessed, a little ruefully. "I was wondering what exactly I have gotten you all in to."
Shaarm smiled, but didn't laugh. "I meant what I said in the hospital," she said. "You have already done quite amazing things while you have been here, Ben. I believe you are quite capable of at least one more."
They stood in silence for a few more minutes before the rancor in the room reared its ugly head.
Shaarm finally broached the subject.
"That Pechnar, in Tszaaf. Do you know him? Do you know what he is?"
"I couldn't see his face." Ben sighed. "But I could feel him, if that makes any sense. Like pins and needles on my skin and inside my skull. And then when I saw him, it was like looking into a solar flare. He was...incandescent."
There was another brief hush. Ben heard one of the girl's laughter drift out from the house.
"I was not much older than Nenka is now when the war ended." Shaarm said. Ben, startled by the abruptness of the curious non sequitur, looked up.
"Barely more than a child, although I would not have said so at the time. The war was all we had known. For many of us, born in the war years, we had no real concept of peace, even though the worst of the fighting had tailed off by then. After the first five years of the war, fifty percent of the population were dead. After a decade, the economy was ruined; there was no more ammunition, and barely enough food to go around. And yet the war, that unkillable beast, lingered on for seventeen more years, without energy, without hope, sapping our resources and culture and our lives down to nothing. But we endured, somehow, and eventually peace was forged and we were saved. I remember seeing them at the peace treaty parade. They were small of course, the first Pechnar I had ever seen, but they seem like giants in my memory for their strength and wisdom. They had saved us from the worst villains we had ever had: ourselves. But I remember quite clearly the sight of them, so humble even in their greatness – they wore layers of simple tan tunics, and long, deep brown robes the colour of wet peat."
Ben frowned, realisation dawning. "Who?"
"The Jedi, of course," Shaarm said. "And I don't think there can be much doubt the Pechnar who tried to follow us in Tszaaf was also one."
Ben sighed. "Of course. I should have known. He did not feel quite like anyone else I have met. The power... But why was he there? What can these Jedi possibly want from me?" Ben felt a passing tug of frustration and fear, and gripped his tea tightly. "Why can't they just leave me alone?"
"You mean you have not yet figured that out either?" Shaarm said, with the ghost of a smile. "Poor Ben. So perceptive in everything but your own self. It is because you are a Jedi too."
Ben stilled, his heart giving a sudden painful jolt. "No. That's not right. I..."
Shaarm nodded. "I have had this theory for a while, but the night after we removed the bracelet, I was sure. You were not even conscious but everything in the room lifted up in the air like in a cyclone...Such unbelievable magic. And then, afterwards, you were moving the children's toys with your mind. You healed more quickly. You learned entire languages in the course of a few days."
Ben was shaking his head. Everything was coming undone.
"Remember what Grandmother and Chana told you about the Jedi?" Shaarm persisted. "I don't know if you can fly, but you certainly caught Ooouli when she was falling. Several times you have seen that something is going to happen before it does. You can control the narms, and talk with them. You did not die, even when at least three times you should not have survived. And your lightsaber-"
"It is not mine."
"But you know how to use it. Chana saw you fighting the narms. The way you moved…it was seamless. Perfect."
"But the Jedi tried to kill me." Ben objected. "They were torturing me, I remember it. I do not belong with them."
Shaarm's tone gentled. "Are you certain of your memories? We do not yet know what happened," she said. "And all I can tell you is that the Jedi are good. There must be something else here that we are not yet seeing."
"So what are you saying?" Ben argued, off-balance and unhappy. "The Jedi are good. Should I stop hiding then? Hand myself in to him?"
Shaarm sighed, and looked back across the garden. "No. While I believe that you are a Jedi, or perhaps were one, I also believe in your instincts. Terrible things have been done to you, and you are cautious, wary. I cannot fault that. For as long as you feel your pursuit is a threat, we will treat it as such. They will not find you."
Ben nodded. He was suddenly bone-weary, tired of this endless doubt and double guessing. He had previously been content to be nothing more than Ben Waken of the Shaarm Residence, Tzsaaf District, but now he yearned to know, for good or ill. To have at least one tangible memory that he could trust. To be something more than an undefined canvas, painted in shades of fear and doubt.
Ben woke early again the next morning, once again finding himself securely boxed in on all side by sleeping Kheelians. He managed to extract himself from Tiki's grip, step carefully over Pakat and Ooouli, and somehow to sneak out of the room without waking anyone. They must all be exhausted. Ben made his way from their now communal bedroom to the kitchen, and after a trip to the water pump in the garden and with a fair amount of rummaging in cupboards, he made himself a cup of tea. He sat down to think.
Last night's conversation with Shaarm was preying on his mind. A Jedi. Could Shaarm be correct? Ben knew how to use the lightsaber and he had certain powers, those were unequivocal facts. The Kheelians called it magic. He didn't know what to call it. The Kheelians praised these Jedi as negotiators and peacekeepers, but he only knew that they seemed to have captured and tormented him. There was no place for both to be true, and besides, why would they torture and interrogate one of their own? Ben frowned, and ruthlessly forced the questions and doubt away. He did not know the answers, and dwelling on his uncertainty would not make answers appear. He had only a few short hours to figure out the riddle of the narms. This was no time for distractions.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day comprised little but distractions. Grandmother arrived within a turn of the others waking up; accompanied by Nenka and four other Kheelians that Ben did not know. They were to be the members of the diplomatic party who would accompany him and Grandmother up to the moor later that night. Kerra and Dega were introduced first; a brother and sister pair of a stature quite unparalleled amongst the Kheelians. They each towered at least a head above Chana, and were twice as broad as Pakat in the shoulders. Ben wasn't sure what their diplomatic skill set was, if any, but they ought to provide a sense of shock and awe if it came down to a fight. Next came Yanto, one of the few Kheelians that Ben could recognise as being elderly. He walked with a slight limp and a hunch that seemed arthritic, although his fur had not dulled in colour and his eyes were clear. Yanto, Ben found out later from Chana, had been a regional commander of one of the last battle groups during the final years of the War of Ten-Thousand Days. His military training had apparently saved many lives during the narm attack, and it was that insight which Grandmother looked for now. The forth member was named Taknat, and Ben already recognised that name as the owner of the farm that had burned to the ground, killing two members of her family. The Kheelian stood tall and dignified, undimmed by loss, although the grief was visible in her pale skin, and the depths of her eyes. She would not be joining them that evening, but was there to give her voice to their discussions of that day.
The final members of their group were to be, of course, Ben as translator, Pakat for his knowledge, Grandmother herself, and Nenka. The teenager had been a last-minute addition to the group, and was there to represent the younger generation of Kheelians and make their voice heard in decisions that would affect their future. Pakat's colleague Porra had apparently also been invited to attend, but had bowed out, citing a 'lack of diplomatic skills'. From the relieved looks on the others' faces, it did not seem that the self assessment was considered to be unjust.
Ben could not help but observe that Shaarm was conspicuous in her absence from the compiled party. He was apparently not the only one who noticed. While Pakat and Chana produced tea for the guests, Shaarm drew Grandmother aside, although not far enough that they were out of Ben's earshot. It was a curious conversation; the words sounded like those of an argument, but their tones were mellow and understanding.
"Grandmother," Shaarm began. "You know I am not one to question your decisions-"
Grandmother snorted. Shaarm ignored her.
"But I really think I should be there tonight. It is my duty and right as your current host to be at your side in all political endeavours..."
Grandmother waved her objections aside. "You know there is no-one whose opinion I value more. But you have your family to think of. You should stay here with them. Get Ooouli ready for returning to school."
"You are taking half my family with you," Shaarm pointed out. "Need I remind you that Ben underwent serious surgery yesterday and ought to be under constant medical supervision? I am his doctor."
Ben stirred in his quiet corner, unable to pretend he hadn't heard. "Please, don't bring me into this!" he begged, light-heartedly. "I am perfectly fine without supervision, thank you very much."
"Oh Ben, darling," said Shaarm, sweetly. "Do shut up. You are a walking medical disaster and you know it."
"She is not wrong," Grandmother helpfully added. Ben held up his hand in mock surrender.
Shaarm turned back to Grandmother, and her light tone grew more serious.
"It is not just Ben. We do not know what the narms intend. If something happens and, I give thanks not, someone is hurt, I am by far the most qualified field medic in the valley. You might well need me, Beyata."
The use of what was presumably her given name made Ben look up, and Grandmother paused for a second before answering. Ben realised he was seeing a whole new facet of intricacy to their relationship: no longer as leader and subject, as guest and host, or even those sharing the burden of parenting, but now also as friends.
"I know," Grandmother answered with a slight sigh. "But it is a risk we are going to have to take. Because if something does happen, it will be exactly then that I need you here. If something happens...well there is no-one I trust more than you to keep a cool head and to act and lead in a way that is integrous to my wishes, and to our values. Please. Stay here."
Shaarm finally nodded, and sighed. "Oh, very well," she grumbled.
Ben leaned in towards them, slightly apprehensive at the tone of the discussion.
"Do you really believe that the narms might still prove to be a threat?" he asked. "That they might attack us again? Because, under those circumstances, I feel I must object to Nenka joining us. Your desire to include young people in decisions about a future that will affect them most is admirable, but I don't think we can condone taking an untrained child into danger."
"I believe the danger may be real enough," Grandmother replied. "We really know nothing of the narms after all. I am certain that you, Ben, have considered the threat they still pose. But you need not worry on account of Nenka, for he is no longer a child."
Shaarm nodded. "He came of age on the day before last."
Ben frowned. That meant the young Kheelian had spent his first night of adulthood at Ben's bedside, watching the broken human bleed and gasp for air. That was probably quite high on the list of things young people did not hope to happen on their landmark birthday.
Grandmother gathered her advisors together then in the main living room to discuss their requirements for the evening's diplomatic endeavours. Ben begged leave to be absent from this part of the process, claiming a need to read up on the history of the narms first before he felt he could add anything. In truth, he wanted the Kheelians to have this conversation themselves. He was just the translator after all, and he would offer advice during the discussions if needed. But he would not negotiate this peace for them. As much as he had disliked the prejudiced Boki that he had encountered at the town meeting, the Kheelian had made one good point – Ben was not one of them. Oh, he felt blissfully at ease here, and the thought of leaving filled him with dull horror. He had no doubt that he would learn to belong, over time. But for now, he was still a stranger. He did not yet possess a grasp on the intricacies of the history and needs of the Kheelians to be able to input on a negotiation like this. For the peace to be firm and lasting, it had to come from the deep-seated cultural needs and fears of the Kheelians themselves.
As such, Ben retired to Pakat's laboratory, a room which proved to be really just a study with a large desk, and chemicals and equipment stored against the walls. He settled down to read up on the narms from the stack of datapads and flimsies Pakat had given him. The devastation that the Kheelian civil war had wreaked upon the pursuit of knowledge and scientific research was immediately apparent; most of the surviving documents were transcribed from antiquarian research a hundred or more years in the past. Huge gaps in the data clearly showed much had been lost during that conflict, and there were no new studies until the last decade or so. Ben went over the scanty records intently, searching for anything that might help them all get through the following evening intact.
After about half a standard turn, there was a knock on the door and Ooouli came in, clutching a glass of tea and another datapad. "The grown-ups are still talking," she said, looking a little pleading. "And I need to catch up on my school work. Can I…?"
Ben accepted the tea bribe, and gestured to the rest of the room. "Be my guest," he said.
Ooouli settled down happily at his side, and there was silence for a few more minutes. Of course, where Ooouli went, Tiki was never far behind. The little girl hovered in the doorway, BenBen the doll tucked into the sling on her forearm. Ben beckoned her inside too, and she bounded delightedly over, and slumped on Ben's feet with a colouring book. Chana arrived next, and settled next to Ooouli without a word. Ben was not at all surprised when Shaarm also joined them a few minutes later. Ben was soon forced to abandon his reading, but he couldn't deny that presently the proximity of his family was far more precious to him than any knowledge gained. Particularly as he couldn't deny the growing awareness building at the back of his mind that this was all coming to an end.
It was late afternoon when Grandmother's meeting eventually finished. They had come up with a list of their requirements for the negotiations, and had discussed at length the outcome of success or failure. None of them had been able come up with a convincing suggestion for what had prompted the narms to attack, or what exactly had been stolen from them. Grandmother looked at Ben questioningly and he shook his head, frustrated. He had nothing.
Evening would soon be falling, however, and the group would need to leave if they were to make it to the meeting place on the moor by moonrise. They had no choice but to go without whatever this item was that Ben had promised to return, and hope the narms would be forgive its absence.
Pakat and Chana quickly threw together a meal for them all, and the Kheelians who would not be going with them prepared to say their goodbyes. Taknat had been the first to leave. As she passed through the door, she had turned and caught Ben's eye.
"I am sorry for your losses," he had said, his voice low. "We will do what we can to make sure this does not happen again."
The Kheelian nodded, and then, introspectively, she said; "They say you saved Shaarm's family. I wonder….that night when you came down from the moor. If you had turned right instead of left, you would have come to my farm first. I wonder if then perhaps you could have saved mine."
Ben and the Kheelians watched in silence as she disappeared down the lane into the evening light.
They left for the moor as the sun was setting. The dying light cast their shadows as long, sinuous shapes as the group made their slow way towards the cliffs. No-one spoke as they walked. The valley around them seemed hushed and tense, with only the susurration of the wind giving a low, mournful sound to the gloaming. Even the narrow rivulet of water, all that was left of the once mighty waterfall, seemed hushed and whispering as it trickled over grey rock. They passed up the stone steps one after another as dusk fell around them; silent, crepuscular shadows against the deepening night.
Ben rode on Nenka's back, holding onto the young Kheelian's pale fur, watching the steps slowly fall away behind them as the colour leeched out of the monochrome world. A single star was awake, hovering over the lip of the cliff in the twilight sky. Finally, they reached the top of the steps. The rock stacks of the Grey Kings formed a sombre row along the cliff edge, and they passed beneath their hulking, muted shadows without a word, and out onto the moor.
Ben turned to look back, just as the orb of the solitary moon crested the far horizon, casting a pale lustre of silver light across the moorland before them. It was bewitching in its stark beauty. Someone, Pakat perhaps, let out a sigh, and the tension which had trapped them in silence slowly ebbed away. They were here, now, on the moor, at night. They had breached the territory of the narms, and there was no turning back. In a way, it made it easier.
Pakat led the way, and they set out across the moor. The Kheelians' fine night vision allowed them to easily pick their way through the treacherous footing without misstep by the distant shimmer of the moonlight and the faint illumination of the two lanterns they had brought with them. The wind whispered a cold breath across the mire. Despite the fact that he was wearing every scrap of clothing he owned, Ben shivered.
"Are you all right?" Nenka murmured, ever concerned.
Ben smiled. "Yes, I am all right, Nenka. Truly. By the way, I hear that congratulations are in order."
Nenka's head tilted, puzzled. "What for?"
"I was told that you had reached your majority?"
"Oh, you mean my Age Day?" The casualness had a slight air of affectation to it. "Yes, thank you. But it is mostly ceremonial, and only really matters to the older folks."
"Either way, it is an event of note," Ben remarked. "And I am sorry for how it ended. Having to spend the evening watching over a bleeding unconscious casualty could not have been much of a birthday event for you."
"Oh, I don't know..." said Nenka, cheerfully. "You did not actually die, so it could have been much worse."
Ben smiled at the teen's irrepressible spirit. "Regardless, I want to thank you for your kindness. Knowing that there was someone by my side when I was injured...it was a comfort."
Nenka only hummed in response, but Ben felt the muscles in the Kheelian's shoulders pull back with pride.
They walked at a slow but steady pace for a full turn before they saw any sign of the narms. It was Dega who first spotted them. She ducked back from her position at the front of the group and whispered quietly.
"I see movement. Ahead, and to the right."
Ben strained vision staring into the night but could see nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes, and focused his other senses. He reached into that endless current of force which ran through him, always. He could sense the narms tracking them through the dark; brief sparks of essence flaring low in the firmament of the night. At least twenty of them, on both sides. The narms did not try to approach the party, but Ben could sense them watching, keeping pace with the Kheelians as they made their slow but steady way across the moor.
At last, the jagged silhouette of the broken tree-stump known as Grandfather Kender appeared, black against the mercury moon. Pakat led them up to a shallow terrace at the edge of the riverbed, and they came to a stop.
No-one spoke. The wind whispered quietly to them in the dark.
All around, Ben could feel the narms, watching and waiting and prowling in unceasing motion beyond his sight in the dark. Every so often, Pakat's lantern would pick up a glint of eyes, or a flash of teeth before they were gone. The narms made no sounds, and did not approach. The Kheelians waited.
And they waited.
Ben began to recognise the stalemate. After two turns he at last came to the conclusion that he was, once again, going to have to be the one to break it. Ben slipped down from the bank, rising to his feet.
"Stay here," he murmured to the others, and walked steadily out onto the plateau towards the gathering of the narms. Ben stopped about a hundred paces from the Kheelians, placed one of the lanterns before him, and knelt down in the pool of its light. He adopted a meditation pose, and rested his right hand, the one not bound up in a sling, loosely on his knee. Ben closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, gathering his calm centre and opening himself up to the power that hovered just below the surface of his being. The gathered narms formed a pulsing mass of life in front of him, a seething organ of raw vitality and atavistic substance. In contrast to the reassuring warmth of the Kheelians at his back, all concern and anxiety, the narms were a broiling mess of untamed and savage emotions; hate, fear, desperation, and a need so overwhelming it was like a hunger, driving them on.
One single spark of life separated itself from the others and began to approach. It was fear and suspicion and hate all rolled into one, but there was an air of determination about it too. Ben waiting until the creature stopped moving before he slowly opened his eyes. Crouched across from him on the edge of the pooling lamplight was the narm with the scarred face. It drew back its mouth, showing him its razor-sharp teeth, and then barked wordless sounds into the dark.
Ben froze for a moment, his calm on the edge of deserting him. He couldn't understand. It had all been a hallucination or a delusion, or-
"...here," growled Scarface, the words finally becoming clear. "You here."
"Yes, we're here." Ben echoed, breathing out his doubts. "As I agreed."
The narm snapped its jaws and barked angrily again. "Too many," it snarled, staring over Ben's shoulder towards the Kheelians. Ben ignored its protestations, correctly identifying them as nothing more than posturing. No limit on the number of delegates had been specified, after all.
"What is your name?" Ben asked. It seemed undiplomatic to continue referring to the creature as Scarface, particularly when it had been Ben's own hand that had caused that scar.
The narm issued a series of barks and howls. Ben couldn't quite grasp the shape of words, if there were any, and instead an image formed in his mind of a young narm challenging an older alpha, and the bigger creature's jaws tearing two digits from the attacker's paw. Ben ran the event through a filter of language and distilled it to a name.
"I see. May I call you Six-Claw?"
The narm barked an affirmative.
"My name is-" Ben began, but Six-Claw cut him off.
"Know you," it said, "Little Bird Stormlight Killer Hear Speaker."
"No," Ben corrected, uncomfortable by the emphasis on killing in the narm's description. He had killed several narms, that was true, but he did not want that to take an emphasis in the negotiations. "My name is Ben."
The narm hissed. "Not a name."
"Fine," Ben sighed. "But the one you've given me is rather a mouthful. If you won't use Ben, Little Bird will do." He was rather puzzled by that component of the epithet but this was not the time for clarification.
"I am here with Grandmother. We want to talk to He Watches The Dark."
"Little Bird stormlight kills," Six-Claw said. "You kill him."
"No," Ben replied, firmly. "We are not here to kill anyone. We are here to talk and to listen."
Six-Claw suddenly howled loudly, taking Ben by surprise, and began to prowl towards him. Two other narms slunk out from the group and came up on either side. The narms began to sniff him all over, pushing snuffling muzzles into his clothing and against his face. Ben remained still as a stone, not shifting an inch from his serene pose as cold noses and hot stale breath pressed in on all sides. A test. This had to be another test. Unless the narms were somehow attempting to smell out his integrity, or sense, perhaps, honesty of intent.
One of the narms sniffed against his hip and let out a little yelp, obviously recognising the lightsaber hanging from his belt. There was a flurry of movement behind him and a huff of breath ruffled the hairs on the back of his neck. Slowly, delicately almost, he felt tiny beads of pressure against his skin as two rows of teeth gripped the back of his neck. He froze.
With extreme care, Ben let out a breath and drew all his will together, forcing his control into place with an iron grip. All his focus crystallised onto those twenty points of pinprick pressure around his cervical vertebrae, and the exhalations of hot breath on his skin. Somewhere, far off and very distant, he felt a wave of dismay and horror from the Kheelians and one of them shouted. Without moving his upper body or head a millimetre, Ben threw his arm out to the side, palm open. Wait. Just wait.
It felt like an endless eternity, but he finally heard Six-Claw issue a short yip. The teeth clasped about his neck gently loosened and disappeared. Ben opened his eyes to find Six-Claw standing across the lantern-lit circle, eyeing Ben with something like approval.
"Satisfied?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow. "Threatening me is not enough to turn us to violence. We have no desire to be your enemies."
Six-Claw turned away without replying, and barked an instruction to one of the other narms. They were to fetch their leader.
Ben tried to suppress the urge to rub his neck, and to ignore the sensation of phantom teeth. The narm had not even broken the skin. He called over his shoulder to the waiting Kheelians.
"I think you can come over now." Then, in Galactic Basic, he added. "Stay together. Move slowly."
They moved over together, clustering at Ben's back. Pakat was at his side in an instant, tilting his head forward to look at the man's neck.
"Ben, what...?"
"Just a test," said Ben, pulling away from his grip, and standing, stiffly. "They were trying to provoke me into a reaction to see if I would attack them. Not to worry, I am fairly sure they won't try it again."
"You are fairly sure?" Dega was glaring around. "That's a comfort."
"Hush," Ben called the Kheelians to attention. "They're coming back."
The narms in front of them parted, and the large alpha male Ben had seen before emerged. Six-Claw slunk after him. The beast was tall and broad, and the distinctive stripe down its back was a dark slash in the pale lamplight. The two narms stopped at the edge of the circle of light.
"What happens now?" Grandmother asked, watching the narms carefully.
"I'll introduce you, if I can," Ben informed her. "And then it's rather over to you, I'm afraid."
He turned back to the narms, and gave a formal half-bow. "He Watches The Dark. This is Grandmother, our leader. Here is Pakat, who has studied your people, and also Dega, Kerra, Yanto and Nenka, citizens of the valley. Grandmother, this is the alpha of the pack. He is called He Watches The Dark. Beside him is Six-Claw."
Six-Claw, who was lying on his belly, barked a series of terse words to He Watches The Dark. Ben couldn't catch all of it, but heard his new moniker, Little Bird, mentioned as well as Grandmother's name. He took a moment to observe the way the two narms interacted. Six-Claw was deferential, clearly a subordinate in the pack, and Ben wondered if He Watches The Dark had been the alpha who had bitten off his claws. Ben shifted his attention to the alpha himself. He was prowling from side to side at the edge of the circle of light, dominance and aggression bleeding from his body language. But Ben could sense something else from the creature too. Was it...nervousness? Uncertainty? For all that he seemed to have full dominance and control over the pack for now, Ben could tell He Watches The Dark had not wanted this confrontation. The throng of narms behind the leader were twitchy and unsettled, and not just due to the presence of Ben and the Kheelians. These events had some other more political motive. Perhaps He Watches The Dark had been at risk of losing his position in the pack during an unsettled time, and was forced to assert his authority by attacking a bigger and stronger enemy.
Either way, it wasn't a good sign.
Silence fell, and Ben took the opportunity to begin the negotiations. He gestured to Grandmother to make her first statements.
"We greet He Watches The Dark and his people with respect, as neighbours, not as enemies. We have come here tonight to negotiate the cessation of hostilities between our peoples, and to find a way to return to peace."
It didn't take much to realise the language was going to be far too complicated for the narms. Ben passed on the message, as simply as he could.
"We do not want to fight you. No more killing."
Six-Claw and the other narms hissed, angrily. He Watches The Dark barked once and they fell silent.
"Sun Giants steal," He Watches The Dark said, his voice so accented it was barely understandable, even to Ben. "They steal. They kill. They lie too?"
"He thinks we are lying," Ben translated for the other Kheelians, then turned back to the alpha.
"No. We do not lie. No more killing."
"You kill many. Strength is yours." Six-Claw was up on his feet now, watching the group. The words were, oddly enough, deferent. Respectful, even. Ben had somehow impressed these warlike people by murdering their fellows. It was not a comforting thought.
"Why are they blaming us?" came a voice from behind Ben. He thought it was Dega. "They attacked us, after all!"
"They tried to kill the children!" That was Yanto.
He Watches The Dark snarled, clearly unashamed.
"Not kill!" Six-Claw barked. "To take, take precious Sun Giant cubs away. Then lying Sun Giants give up, give back sky."
Ben ignored the shudder of horror he felt pass through the Kheelians at the thought of their children as hostages. It was past. He drew the negotiations back to the subject in hand. "We need to decide what both parties want to achieve from these discussions if we are to make any progress. No more threats. Grandmother, please tell us your terms."
Ben again translated as Grandmother listed their requirements for peace.
"We are not lying. We do want peace. We want you to stay on the moor, and we will leave you alone. In return, you must not attack the farms, and you will not come into the valley."
"Not enough!" snarled He Watches The Dark. "Where sky? Back sky, Little Bird said."
Grandmother ducked down to whisper to Ben. "What did he say?"
"He is reminding me that I promised to return this item you are accused of stealing, and I have not done so," Ben answered in Basic. "I think they might be rather cross when they find out I don't have it."
Thieves! Sky! Stole! came the calls of the narms all around them. Ben noticed with concern that the creatures were beginning to circle behind them, closing them in on all sides. An unknown narm, as large as the alpha, leapt from the group and snapped at Six-Claw, growling. Ben could not catch what was said, if anything, but Six-Claw did not look happy. The newcomer leaned in aggressively. The two circled each other for a moment, hackles raised. He Watches The Dark barked again, and the newcomer backed off.
"Little Bird!" Six-Claw turned back to Ben, snapping his name, demanding an answer.
"Yes, I did promise," Ben agreed. "And if it is in my power to give it, I will make sure that you get back your-"
"You have sky?" growled Six-Claw "Or not?"
Ben sighed, aware what a storm his words would probably unleash.
"No. I don't have it." He had to raise his voice to shout over the barking and howling that followed his statement. "But I will try and find it. I just need to know more abou-"
"Thieves!"
"Steal!"
The other narms were no long listening, and their aggression was doing nothing to calm the Kheelians.
"We did not steal anything!" Dega shouted.
"Kheelians are not thieves!" Nenka added, hotly. "Or liars!"
The narms howled back, but Ben's eyes were drawn to a discrepant area of stillness where the aggressive new narm who had faced up to Six-Claw earlier was staring at He Watches The Dark. There was a group of perhaps a dozen narms at his back, who were all snapping and growling at the others. There was an angry exchange, and Ben picked up what he thought was the new narm's name: Bites At Shadows.
Pakat crouched down next to Ben. "This is not good," he remarked, very quietly. "Look at that group over there. They are not deferent to He Watches The Dark, like Six-Claw and the other narms. Chins up, eye contact, standing too close...I believe that large one there is competing to be alpha."
Ben nodded. "And I would put down good credits on him making his move soon. I already got the impression He Watches The Dark has not done well out of this crisis. One wrong move here and we end up in the middle of a narm civil war."
This was getting out of hand, and quickly. Time to intervene before somewhat got hurt.
"He Watches The Night," Ben called, respectfully over the racket. The alpha narm only half-turned his head towards the human, engaged on the barking narms around him.
"Please," Ben said. "Tell me more about the sky that is missing. I do not yet understand. Six-Claw! Please!"
Six-Claw caught Ben's eye, and Ben held his gaze firmly.
"Tell me about the sky," Ben commanded again, this time adding a generous twist of suggestion to the words. "Is it like this sky? The sky above us here?"
Ben pointed up at the night sky above them with its single solitary moon and scatter of pale stars. Six-Claw derisively snapped his jaws.
"Not upper-sky! Upper-sky is bird-sky, Sun-Giant-sky. Under-sky. Give back under-sky."
Ben clamped down hard on the frustration he could feel, forcing the emotion to dissipate harmlessly from him. He needed to focus.
"I am sorry, but I don't understand." He said, radiating calm through his tone and body. "Tell me why the under-sky is so important."
"It the way!" He Watches The Dark spoke up again, and Ben had to concentrate hard to understand his words. "Father underworld. Under-sky way."
"Without fathers, we sicken," added Six-Claw. "We die."
More little threads, but what did they mean? Behind him, he heard Grandmother's raised voice and the Kheelians quieted. She turned to Ben.
"What is going on?"
"It's to do with their ancestors," Ben deliberated, trying to grasp the little clues he had been given, to take those threads of knowledge and weave them together into a tangible truth. "The stolen sky...it is not just a thing. It's more than just a symbolic link to the ancestors. It is a spiritual pathway to another world...to the under-sky."
He glanced at his feet on the black earth, and the threads ran through his mind, and suddenly the pattern was clear. The stump of the great, dead tree. Grandmother at the well. The moorscape with its thousand empty gullies like wrinkled cloth. Tiki playing on the stepping stones by the shallow pool, and the trickle of the waterfall in its dry, stony bed.
"It's water."
"What?"
Ben breathed out, his thoughts swirling. "It's the water," he said again, just to check he had spoken aloud. "The water is disappearing; you told me as much yourself. The river is drying up, the waterfall is almost gone. The narms are dying because they don't have enough water."
"Of course!" Grandmother was nodding, a little astonished.
"This is all just about the water shortage?" One of the Kheelians asked, incredulously.
"Partially, but it is not just the physical requirements for water." Ben tried to explain the images he had seen created through the narms broken words. "As far as I can tell, to them the sky they see reflected in the water is a window through to another world – the under-world, where the ancestors are. Without the water of the moors they are suffering, both physically and spiritually."
"I am sorry about that, but it is hardly our fault!" Kerra said, hotly. "And no reason to attack us. Three of our people are dead!"
"The climate has been changing since the war," said Pakat, who was looking pale under his golden fur. "There is little rainfall, and the rivers are drying up everywhere. But I think actually perhaps we have made the situation worse here. Partially, at least. There was a study to suggest that the new wind farms dried out the peat on the moors, but we needed power for the towns urgently, and they decided it was worth the risk. And then they built that dam out at Vaknalt...They didn't predict there would be repercussions this far out, but I have been wondering..."
"He Watches The Dark said that some of the narms were sick," Ben said, with a heavy heart. "They think that it is caused by being separated from their ancestors, but I cannot help but think..."
"The ruptured fuel cells from the shipwreck?" Pakat guessed. Ben nodded.
"But that too was not your fault," Grandmother reminded him. "No more than the city dwellers building a dam is ours. You did not intend to crash the ship, or to harm the narms."
"I know it is not my fault," Ben acknowledged. "But it is my responsibility. And regardless of whether their reasons were justified or not, the narms did attack us. And now we need a solution." he eyed the narms, who had been closing in, restless and impatient. "Rather quickly."
Grandmother was about to agree, when Bites At Shadows, the narm who had challenged Six-Claw earlier, suddenly darted out towards her. She quickly took a step back.
"No speak!" the big narm barked, snarling. "Enough Sun Giant words. They lie. Give us nothing. They should not come here!" Three more narms were at its side, snapping and barking. The Kheelians automatically backed in closer to each other as He Watches The Dark and Six-Claw barked at the newcomers, snapping and circling.
Ben felt the tension and threat suddenly undulate and swirl up around them, and that familiar sense of warning strike out, clear as a bell. He stepped firmly back, between the Kheelians and the narms, trying to resist reaching for the 'saber at his waist.
"I am Alpha!" He Watches The Dark was howling. "Strong! I attack Sun-Giants! I kill them! I bring them here! Alpha! Get back. I am Alpha!"
"Not strong," Bites At Shadows snarled. "Not Alpha. Sun-Giants lie. He Watches The Dark lie. I will be Alpha!"
Without another word, Bites At Shadows leapt straight at He Watches The Dark, teeth bared for the other's throat. Before he could move to defend the pack leader, two of Bites At Shadows' supporters had lunged at Six-Claw, bowling him to the ground with a snarl.
Ben backed up to Grandmother. "Time to for us to go," he said, with mounting alarm. "Whoever wins this, they won't tolerate us here fo- Look out!"
The warning came too late. The narms, driven into a frenzy by Bites At Shadows' attack, had turned on each other with howls and shrieks. Five of them, however, had turned their eyes on their new enemies, the Kheelians. Pakat threw the first to the ground as it leapt towards him, rearing up to catch it on his broad forearm. Dega went down under the unexpected weight of a second snarling narm on her back, but there was no time to go to her assistance either. Two others, spying an easy target in Ben, dove howling for the slighter man, teeth flashing in the lantern-light. Ben had the lit 'saber in his hand in a flash of blue lightning, but somehow, inconceivably, Nenka was faster. The young Kheelian threw himself in between Ben and the teeth of the narms quicker than thought.
"No!" The shout was all Ben had time for as the dark forms of the narms collided with the pale gold of the young Kheelian. Something hot sprayed across Ben's face. Nenka fell beneath the narms onslaught, knocking Ben aside. Ben impacted hard with the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt, but continued the momentum, rolling up into a crouch, lightsaber raised. It took a single shove of force energy to throw the nearest narm back, and one leap to bring him to Nenka's side. The lightsaber blade flashed in the night, and the narm crouched over the fallen Kheelian screamed, and then crawled away with a snarl and a whimper. Ben took a second glance back to take in the condition of his charges; Dega had not yet got up, but the others were still on their feet, and holding their own.
"Fall back!" He yelled to them. "Face outwards, and cover us!" Then he dropped to his knees at Nenka's side. There was blood everywhere, bubbling from the torn throat and staining black into the teen's golden fur. Nenka's mouth moved silently, but Ben wasted no time with words. He tore the sling from his arm and clamped the cloth down firmly onto the gushing wound, closed his eyes, and threw himself into the Force.