Chapter4

AN. Plez stay with me cos when i go bk 2 school i don't know how much tping i can get done. This nxt chp's a bit sad so may need some tissues.

The Raeracc stopped and looked at the desolated area. She sniffed the air. She smelt the stench of death, pain and burning, but in amongst it all she

smelt something different – life. It was dwindling fast. Now Raeraccs may just seem like strange land and water beasts – but they are intelligent on an alarming scale. There, in amongst the burnt and blackened desecration lay a body only scorched by the flames. The Raeracc trotted over and pawed at it. There were several cuts and scratches in it but most concerning were the wooden things sticking into its side, blood weeping sluggishly from around the shafts, and a large slash that sliced its right cheek, curled down the side of its neck and down the centre of the creature's body, it did not seem too deep though and it did not look fatal. That one life in all this had survived was a miracle, the Raeracc thought. She struggled a bit as the creatures hands were still clutched tightly around a heavy blade but she managed to get it slung across her back.

She brought it back to her cubbing den, Raeraccs do have gills but after birth it takes a few weeks for the young to fully develop and then they needed to be taught how to hunt and such like so they live on the land for the first three or so weeks of their lives and Raeraccs have more than one litter a year. She lay the creature down and proceeded to pull out the wooden shafts and clear away the cloth around them. She showed the wounds to her mate and he left coming back a few minutes later, water sliding off his sleek gold-red fur, with a large mouthful of seaweed. Together they put a little of the purple fronds into the wounds then pressed the green tube like strands down over them. Soon the bleeding stopped. The two stood together in that moment of peace gazing with saddened eyes at the sole survivor. No one knows really what the IQ of a Raeracc is but, like their relatives the Naish, it is known that they have a concept of many complex emotions. If someone was watching, there was probably a fly around, pity would be the chief thing they would see in the eyes of the Raeraccs; pity on the poor creature in so much pain, pity on how alone it now was, pity for the people who were killed, and pity for the misguided beings that could do this to their own kind for no apparent reason. But they were proud of themselves, proud that out of all the death and disaster they could save one life, they have what you might call a 'Good Samaritan' instinct.

Amonsovn dreamed. She dreamt again of the screams, and the burning. Her mind tortured itself with memories of her people falling around her, she could not save them and her imagination tormented itself with images of Kieltavn being captured or killed by the raiders; or trapped beneath the burning ruins with her watching, paralysed, unable to help. She dreamt of the raiders lining up those captured and looking them over,

"This one is of no use to me, not strong enough to be a working slave or a body guard and is not exactly gifted with good looks; we have no use for this one." The evil leader in her dreams said dispassionately, his voice drifting through to her as if for a long way off, yet the man stood close to her as he surveyed Kieltavn with cold, emotionless, grey eyes. The dirty, rat faced, grinning man holding the chains that were held painfully tight around Kieltavns neck motioned forward a huge muscled man who dealt a swift blow to the chain that went round his ankles and connected him to the rest of the captured people.

"Amonsovn," Kieltavn cried out, his eyes rolling in fear like a frightened animals, "Amonsovn, help me!"

Amonsovn tried to reach out to him, she tried to call his name but she could neither move nor speak. She watched helpless as Kieltavn was led to the far corner of the room where there was a large pit, the huge man pulled from his belt a great axe, Kieltavn stood on the rim of the bottomless pit, the man raised the lethal blade and swung at his back, to slice him in two and throw the body into the pit in the same swipe.

The terrifying image dissolved into more fever ridden nightmares and all the while the Raeraccs watched over her, waiting for the fever to break. Amonsovn was like this for many days, even weeks, but eventually the fever broke and Amonsovn woke to find the large face of a male Raeracc gazing at her. It was an unnerving experience but the creature did not look like it was about to course her harm. It let out a series of grunting calls. A female, females were more golden than the males and the males were a redder colour, came trotting over followed by three young ones. Amonsovn watched as the small fuzzy gold creatures clambered all over their mother with their small webbed paws.

Amonsovn decided to asses her wounds as the fluffy things continued to try and eat their mothers tail. Both her arms and hands seemed to be OK although she found her right hand was still clenched tightly around Sagiaturiaris and it was difficult to let go, when she did she found the markings had cut deep into her flesh and the strange runes on the swords hilt were cut into her palm, that was funny, the runes on her hand looked identical to the ones on the hilt but they should have been a mirror image. She stared at her hand, it was the mirror image, she realised, the runes mirror image was exactly the same as the real thing. Curious. Her hand was not bleeding, although it was encrusted with blood and the blade itself was covered with it. She then discovered the five arrow wounds on her side and chest, she stared at them. The half healed, scaring holes riddled her ribs but not one had pierced her lungs or heart and there was a great curving line along her whole torso and up her neck. Gingerly she raised her left arm and felt the puckered line curve up the right side of her neck and curled onto her right cheek in a graceful hook shape.

The Raeraccs had cleared away the remnants of her tattered clothing, though it looked like they had kept her warm with the various plant life that was spread over her, and there was a strange dark green seaweed that consisted of long thin tendrils that had been pressed over her healing arrow wounds. Her legs too seemed in a bad way, they were a patchy pink – burnt – and the shiny new skin was starting to grow over them, the result was ugly and her legs would be covered in scar marks where ever the burning had been worse even when they were healed. She was collecting a lot of scars. When she tried to sit up the female Raeracc beside her pushed her gently back down with a paw as pain lanced like fire throw her chest.

She drifted off to sleep again but this time it was a deep, dreamless sleep bereft of the nightmares and the smell of burning. The female Raeracc drew away her cubs to the back of the den to let Amonsovn sleep in peace.

Selene has started her move.

As time went by Amonsovn made a full recovery though she would always have the numerous small scars on her legs, the scars from the five arrows, the sword wound and the runes engraved on her palm. Her skin had knitted itself back together again much quicker after the fever had broken. Amonsovn had made herself a primitive Kaeer using stone and wood slotted together and then bound with Qkior (pronounce: key-or) tendons. A Qkior was a small monkey like creature that dug holes in the ground with its shovel like paws and ate insects. She had also cured some hides and made some things for herself including clothes, she had never been one for sowing but they were not bad. She had been for several walks outside the den over the last couple of days but this was the first time she had been back to where the remains of the village were. The hill was steep and Amonsovns legs were still on the mend, she was working on building back up the muscle on them, so she tiered quickly but this was good for her. She had brought a large water skin made by her, it was serviceable enough.

She reached the top of the hill and looked out at the place she had once known so well, the lake, the hidden pool area hidden by reeds, scrub and trees where bonds went on their first night together. She smiled faintly at the age old custom but then she smile filled with pain and faded, she would never go there, Kieltavn was dead or enslaved, she would never see him again. Her eyes filled with sadness. She threaded her way throw the battle field carnage. Slowly she made her way into the black and burnt out remains of the settlement.

Here was the skin workers homes, the two familys had worked together to produce all sorts of animal skin products and would give you a good pair of shoes or such like for some good skins. There was the canoe makers home and the long building the bonds worked in when they were making the canoes. Here were the remains of Kataalac and Ruatonims home. She clambered into the desolate wreckage, here were the remains of Kataalacs Naish head, she had been so proud of it, no one had ever brought down a Naish with a Kaeer before. Her hand went to the tiny box that hung around her neck, Kieltavn had given it to her and in it there was a piece of his hair and a piece of Kataalacs who was like a sister to her. A glossy red lock and a coal black lock encased in the intricate box made from Wellelca wood e-which is a beautiful red-brown chestnutty colour the piece it was made froms grain was perfectly straight except for in the very centre of the lid where there was a knot in the wood, a tiny swirling oval shape. There was also two tiny charcoal drawing carefully preserved inside of Kieltavn and Kataalac.

Something caught her eye, she moved over. There among the desecrated rubble was a tiny piece of wood that had not quite been burnt completely. She picked it up and brushed away the cold ash. A stay tear wended its way down her cheek. She would recognise this carving anywhere, it was a bulls head, it came from Icaieris's cradle that Bregt, the wood worker, had decorated for the bonds. She had loved Icaieris like her own son and he had taken to calling her Aunty Ammy although he was still very young and it was hard to tell what he was saying and it sounded more like ornty ammmmie. She felt so angry, so angry that one so young could be killed in cold blood. The poor child had done nothing to these invaders yet now he was dead, and she had not been able to stop them. A second tear trickled down her other cheek. She placed the charred fragment into the box.

Amonsovn stood and walked a few paces away, then fell to her knees crying. She had not cried since she was a very small girl but now the tears were gushing forth like a great river swelled with pain bursting a dam and rushing out in a huge swirling torrent. She was kneeling before Kieltavns body, his hands still clutching his Kaeer. Throw a curtain of tears, like peering throw a waterfall, Amonsovn looked out over the remains of her home, she had not saved them, she had not been able to save them, they were dead. They were dead and she was alive. She was their Lelta! Why had she not saved them? Why had she not been able to save them? Was she too weak? They were dead and she was alive. Why did it have to be? She put her arm around the female Raeraccs shoulders, she knew what ever she did she could not forget her people, everything here reminded her of them, how they had died and she had not. She could not stay here much longer. She could not go on like this much longer. She got up and followed the Raeracc back to the den and her second litter of pesky, inquisitive, fuzz balls.

AN. Sniffle, sniffle, going 2 cry! Well, at least it's not a cliffy this time. First 2 were and the last one u think everyone dead so this insnt 2 bad.