[Edge of the Ruins] The Scales Tip

[Ashivirsthargon]

35th Day of Winter, 509 AV

"This isn't a good idea, Siji."

The two, Myrian youths peered at the ruins from their prone position. They had covered their bodies with mud and bits of foliage, and now, under the moonlight, their stealth had paid off. Zinrah lay before them like a multitude of stone fingers - as if a host of gigantic, stone creatures were reaching forward to climb out of the depths, below.

"Ah, if only I had known you were a coward before I asked you to come along," replied Siji, harshly. The other boy was Adum. Both were in their teenage years, but in the life of a Myrian, that was plenty of time to have tasted blood and hafted the weight of a spear.

"I'm no coward, fool," protested Adum, "But night has already fallen. If the Dhani catch us here, they'll..."

"Which they will not if you will keep quiet. Look out there. Do you see any Dhani? Do you even know what they look like? They are enormous. They do not blend into the jungle as the Myrians have learned to do. If one were anywhere even close, we would know before it even had time to call out. And anyway, we're not going to stay and sightsee. But I will not leave until we get a stone from those ruins. Jakei will never let me walk with my head high again if I do not make good on my boast.

"And you, Adum, you will get your third tattoo for certain after we bring back such proof of our bravery. Perhaps we will even be admitted to the scouts, early. Can you imagine?"

His friend grinned. "We would be immortal. The first boys to become scouts so young. Yes, I had forgotten what was truly important. I am with you. But let us hurry."

Like watery shadows, the two boys flowed down the hill at a measured pace, rising to a low crouch as they neared the ruins. Apprehension soon melted to exhiliration as the boys began looking for a loose stone to bring back. Adum began to think his fears were unfounded, and in the heat of the search, the two threaded further into the shattered city.

Slipping into a narrow alley, Adum found what they had been looking for. On the ground near a wall was a stone fragment the size of a man's fist, covered in strange runes and clearly ancient. His face broke into a smile. Here was incontrovertible proof that he and Siji were brave enough to do what no other boys their age would. Braver than many men, in fact! Perhaps the bravest warriors their generation had ever known....

A tremendously loud snap split the night air, and Adum whirled around, drawing his hunting knife in the same motion, as he had been taught. He faced the end of the alley in a low, fighting stance with the look of the predator in his eyes. His pulse pounded, and he took a few breaths so he would not sound as nervous as he suddenly felt.

"Siji?" he whispered.

Nothing but the ambient sounds of the jungle answered him. Had Siji stepped on a twig and broken it? Surely not. That crack was like the sound of a thick branch being broken. Perhaps he had broken some limbs trying to get at part of the ruins.

A dark mass flying over the wall into the alleyway interrupted his thoughts. An involuntary shriek escaped him, but he recovered quickly and charged forward with knife at the ready. As the haze of fear faded, he saw on the ground the face of his friend staring up at him - eyes bugged out in a face turned red and purple. His chest was caved in, and his arm was bent at an impossible angle.

Sucking down bile, Adum began to run as fast as he could - the stone completely forgotten.

A bulky, sinuous mass lunged across the opening of the alley. Shilhouetted by the moonlight, all Adum could make out was the muscular form of a man wielding a wickedly curved scimitar - but it was atop an enormous, coiling mass. The monstrosity towered over him by several feet.

He stood, trembling and mesmerized as the thing weaved left and right to make its way down the alley. When the moonlight revealed his features, Adum found himself staring into a reptilian horror. Cold, amber eyes rooted him to the spot as Sthargon spoke.

"SSahhh. Myrian broodling. Not the brightesst of your kind, are you? Hahhhh. Coming to ssssteal from Zinrah, yessss. Violating our peaccce, yesssss. What a diplomatic travessty! Whatever ssshall we do?"

A horrid rasping sound came from Sthargon. After a few moments, Adum realized it was laughter.

"S-s-stay back," Adum tremulously wavered as he extended a shaky blade, "I know how to use this, and you will not AAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!"

Adum's scream tore through the night as the scimitar came down. It was not a skilled stroke by any means, but the hatchet-cut was more than enough to sever Adum's dagger-wielding hand at the wrist. The pain was more intense than he'd ever known, and his head swam as he neared blacking out altogether. His legs collapsed, and he sat down hard on the stone.

"Oh, I thhhhink I will," countered Sthargon. "Ssshhhould I ssshhhow you merccccy sssinccce you are a child? Hmmm? SSSaaahhh. Let you grow up, yesss? Learn to ussse that blade?"

Sthargon began to move around the boy in a slow, languid circle.

"Will you sssshow me mercccy, then? Leave my people in peacccce, yesss? No. No, you will not. I can sssmell the hatred mixed with your fear."

Adum could only hold his maimed wrist and try not to weep. Sthargon's coils began to wrap around him like a shroud of muscle.

"I do not hate you, however. You are trasssh, yesss, unworthy of my hatred. Disssgusssting, walking, talking fodder that believesss itssself worthy to rule. Well..."

Sthargon had now fully encased Adum, and the slits of his golden eyes were level with the boy's brown ones.

"Ssssiku rulesss the jungle, and her children ssshall live. Your children? Well... not tonight."

The last thing Adum was aware of was Sthargon unhinging his jaws, and a dark, tooth-lined void racing to fill his vision.

[Cayenne]

If he was waiting for some Myrians to declare open war by firing on him from where they doubtless watched in the darkness (he knew they were there, or somewhere nearby, even if he couldn't sense their body heat nor smell them at the moment), he was going to have a long wait. None of the deep bass hums of bowstrings echoed through the ominous trees, no war cries, no swishing of the trees... Just nothing. Perhaps these two fools--edible fools, for that matter--were rejects. If they were stupid enough to disobey their elders in such a way, their stupidity could only affect as many others as they allowed it to. But the Myrian queen wasn't stupid - she wasn't going to allow her own 'throwbacks', as it were, go to feed the enemy.

Sthargon had ample time to commence his meal by the time he heard a silken whisper from the entrance of the northern tunnel. "What issss all of the racket up here? What did you catch?" Sthargon knew that voice. It was a youngling, hardly more than a hatchling, carrying a large axe that she barely had any business with, much less had learned to use. That was Lisha, as her nickname went. She was more interested in hunting and exploring than staying in Zinrah, which some considered a fault. There was no real need for guards in the tunnel, what with the Myrians never usually going down into it, but sometimes prey fell in, and the younglings could usually manage to make sure that it didn't find its way out again. Sure enough, Lisha was emerging from the tunnel, her body a rich, emerald green with yellow accents. But her exposed chest showed scarred scales, from shoulder to midsection, the result of a training fight with another female who had used a knife on her in the gallery when they were only supposed to be a wrestling match.

But more to the point, she was female, and emerging from the protective tunnels of Zinrah. A Myrian may not have broken the peace brokered by Caiyha for him, but the opportunity to kill one of the precious females... might not be so overlooked.

Who would blame them for trying?

[Ashivirsthargon]

Sthargon's head whipped around at the sound. His first instinct at spying Lisha was one of a sort of panic. He reached down to take hold of the arm of the remaining boy's corpse and drug it back quickly to the northern tunnel - his head searching every which way for any signs of Myrians who felt particularly bold.

As he passed her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the tunnel. She wrenched her arm and resisted him, but he was several times stronger than the girl. It seemed to him that she protested the entire way, but it was hard to tell with all the rasping of scales and the grainy sliding of the child's corpse across stone. It was not the most graceful or efficient egress, but he soon had both of them several feet deep inside the tunnel.

The stone embraced them. Feeling confident that no Myrian arrow would take them in the back, he released her.

"Lissha," he said as if he were about to lecture her, but then he broke into a raspy chuckle. "You are too brave for your own good. I try to dissscourage that in warriorss."

He lowered his torso closer to the ground so they could talk face to face. She was a pretty little girl, and although Sthargon had only spoken to her a few times, he had told her that she should be proud of the scars - they were a lesson that no one could be trusted, and in the heat of combat, there were no rules. A conspiratorial glint flickered in his eye.

"I ssshall make a deal with you. Ssaaah. Hack up thiss Myrian a bit with your axe and take it to your father. Tell him you killed it when it wandered into the tunnel."

He watched her eyes to see how the offer struck her. He figured that she would rather be seen as a warrior than a woman, or even a prospective Queen. He felt sorry for her, really. The circumstances of survival forced everyone to be things they might not have chosen for themselves. He thought, perhaps, a bit of recognition from her father for her ability would give her a little happiness until the day came when she had to put away her axe for good.

"For your part," he continued, "You musst promissse me that you will not die on my watchess. If you die on sssomeone elsse'ss, that iss your bussssinesss. Ssaahhh. But not on mine. Your father would never forgive me, and he is ssstill fearssome, yesss?"

He brought his face nearer to hers until they were inches apart.

"That meansss we do not leave the tunnelss without a guard, yesss?"

[Cayenne]

Lisha did protest the entire way, though not overly loudly. She had been somewhat foolish in leaving the protective sanctum of the tunnels, after all. He may have been a male, but he was doing what he was supposed to do, and she realized this. He was keeping her safe. That was one of his duties. He had learned from his father, which upped the importance of the matters at hand. Right now, she was supposed to be on guard. He was supervising, which meant that, male or not, he was in charge of looking after her and the tunnels. Besides, if something happened to her, it would be on his head. Lisha was still learning more about the politics of the nest, but she caught on fast.

She would make a good Queen one day.

She eyed the Myrian teenager's somewhat mangled corpse from where it lay in a motionless heap on the tunnel's floor before looking back up at him as he spoke to her. What he said made sense. She only wanted to prove herself, he could see that much, and she had come out to see if he needed help against those stinking little savages. Sometimes, one could tip the scales in their favour, even as untrained as she may be... constricting and suffocating and squeezing the life out of someone came as natural instinct to her. The pale, blue-white light from the ketomoss and the glowstones reflected against them, illuminating them in a light they didn't need for seeing. They could sense where the other was, but even as Sthargon lowered himself towards her, it made him look even more impressive.

"Yessss," Lisha hissed quietly, thinking it over. She seemed pleased with this compromise. Serpentine eyes glinted at the prospect. Her father--and mother, for that matter--would be pleased. Maybe it would be enough to buy her time from spending more time in the Shrine, as per her mother's wishes. It wasn't that she wasn't devoted to Siku (quite the opposite), it was simply that she would like to be able to hunt to kill things in Siku's name. "I agree." She did not back down even as he got closer. He had told her before that one did not trust anyone. And she was thinking about it now. "But what issss in it for you if I do that?" She was frank about it, at least. Which may have been a mistake, voicing her thoughts or the perceived weakness being that she could not figure out just what his motives were... which might have been something better kept to herself. But if this was going to be their secret, and no one else would know about it, she couldn't very well ask another about it.

So she, being female and knowing her own importance, was asking him that now as she wound her tail around the Myrian corpse, and adjusted it to lay it out a little before moving her tail back and out of the way. She moved away from him, not from fear, but in order to bring the axe down. She'd seen a foolish young male trying to hack apart a boar before backing away from it, and nearly cut himself in half. She had not the slightest intention of making the same mistake that he had. Their great length could be troublesome, true, but if one used just a little bit of intelligence... With both of the Dhani out of the way, she raised her axe, and brought it down on the corpse's chest. The heavy blade cleaved almost to the slippery, rocky ground of the tunnel as she went through the youth's ribcage, coating the glinting battle axe, and her own hands and arms in blood. And she never took her eyes off of him.

[Ashivirsthargon]

Sthargon's eyes narrowed slightly as he viewed Lisha with a renewed sense of appraisal. He flicked out his tongue to taste the air near her and was impressed at the complexity of emotions he could sense emanating from her. Typically, a Dhani as young as she did not perceive her experiences in any kind of multi-layered way. Around Dhani young, emotions were simple. Fear, aggression, joy, sadness, lust - whatever was occupying the young mind at the time. Lisha, however, was different. She had the air of an adult woman about her. She could perceive the shades of grey in her experience and responded to each, accordingly.

Sthargon's estimations were confirmed when she asked her question of him. She was shrewed and calculating. She knew what lurked behind a person's eyes. She had asked him bluntly, knowing he would value that, rather than the cloak of evasiveness that the female Dhani used so well to their advantage. The question itself smacked of insight. He wanted to chuckle at it all, but he remained serious. She would think he was not taking her seriously. Quite the contrary - he knew he had to take her more seriously than ever. She was a child, now, but the year would come when she would be a force to be reckoned with in Zinrah's hierarchy. When that day came, he knew it would be in his best interest for her to think well of him.

A moment ago, he had addressed her respectfully, but whimsically - precisely as one might to a respected child. But it was not a child who had asked him that question, and he would answer the adult who would someday emerge.

"Fairly asssked. All right."

He slithered a few feet to the left when he saw her raise the axe. She kept staring at him, though. He wondered if she were envisioning what it might be like to hack him apart if necessity should dictate it. It was an ominous thought, and it made it easier to decide what to share with her.

"Our people ssurvive by thinking beyond tomorrow. We cannot afford to sssimply worry about today. Saahh. Our livess our long. Our numberss are few. Only in the fullnesss of time doess our ssstrength ripen. And sso, the choicess we make are not alwayss for presssent impact.

"Letting an enemy live so you can use him to bleed hiss people dry over time. Breeding with sssomeone you may not care about so that Zinrah will have warriorss in the yearss to come. There are choiccesss that you make that may not be clear in the pressent, but they will come to their fruitttion in the future."

He gathered himself up for the big finish.

"It iss my belief that you will sssomeday assscend to great importanccce in our cccity. Perhapss even queen yourssself, yesss? When that day comesss, I do not asssk ssomething sso pathetic or foolisssh asss to think kindly of me, but I do wissh you to remember I wass ussseful."

[Cayenne]

Sthargon was right in his analysis of the young female. There was a perceptive awareness around her that most her age lacked. As Sthargon spoke, she continued to hack away at the Myrian youth until the corpse was almost falling apart, barely held together by some scraps of bone, flesh, and tissue, but there was no doubt she was listening intently to his words, and her head moved a little, like she was nodding, storing this information away for future use. This made sense, and it would make more once she had sat back and thought about it, because this was not an encounter she would be forgetting any time too soon.

"Yesss," Lisha breathed, thinking it over. There was something in her serpentine eyes that showed him she was taking what he had offered her and working it out. "Yess. I sssee now." Her broad front was liberally splattered with blood by the time she finally stopped hacking away at the body. "Queen of my family's nesssst, maybe," she allowed. "But I am not of Queen Tanabisssss' blood. So unlessss sshe or Sssiku ordainsss otherwissse, being Queen of Zinrah isss unlikely." She was matter-of-fact. She seemed to understand how things worked in their nest. She was a sharp one, and only proved him right - she would be worth watching in the years to come, assuming something didn't happen to rob his people of a very valuable female.

"I promisse that I will remember thiss. And our bargain." She adjusted her coils to shoulder the axe and grasp the boy's head, lifting the body clear off of the ground, pushing herself up on her middle to ensure proper distance between the limp, dangling feet and the slack arms, head tilted slightly to admire her handiwork before apparently having decided she'd done an adequate job at butchery, and stuck the corpse under an arm. "With your leave, I will take thissss gift to my father, and I will return. Our enemiess are out there."

[Ashivirsthargon]

Sthargon nodded briefly to Lisha in acknowledgement and watched her make her way down the tunnel. Even as a youth, she did not require his leave, and the voluntary sign of courtesy did not go unnoticed. How early she was learning to navigate the tangled webs of Dhani diplomacy. Yes, when she grew older, she would most certainly be someone you wanted to think favorably of you.

He interlaced his fingers and stretched out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles and straining his muscles a few seconds before relaxing. So many of the little joys in life came back to tension and release.

The Myrian he had recently devoured set heavily in his stomach. He took some time to find the warrior who had the next guard shift to rouse him early and simply slid away amid the hissing storm of complaint. Sthargon knew he would be more of a liability than an asset with the extra weight of devoured prey slowing him down. He wondered if that would occur to the fool ineffectually trying to berate him. He was not in the mood to explain.

He drew his father's scimitar and trailed it lazily at his side, allowing it to tap against stalagmites and other variations in the curvature of the walls as he moved more deeply into Zinrah's stony womb. He was too flush with ebbing adrenaline to sleep. He was too heavy to train. Perhaps he could stop by the Shrine and pay his respects, briefly, before returning to his quarters.

---

He stood on the large, serpentine mosaic in the center of the stone floor, facing Siku's statue. He stretched his arms out to his sides - palms out - as if he were forcing apart a curtain. He rotated his wrists to bring his palms up, drew his arms close to his chest, then pushed them upward and forward leaving his elbows slightly bent as if holding a serving tray. The wrists rotated inward and he brought his hands to his sides. As the rotation continued, his arms flared out in a sweeping motion back up over his face and, as his hands completed their turn, back down to his sides. If he had been holding cups of water, they would have been undisturbed. The entire salutation took a matter of seconds and was executed with the fluid precision only muscle memory can bring.

The words of his prayer marched from his lips like soldiers, but his usual sibilance was accentuated even further, with each "s" and "th" sound extending into a low hiss.

"I stand before the face of our Mother
Who dwells in us as hunger and thirst
Who dwells in us as lust and satiety
Who dwells in us as vengeance and the End

"I stand before the face of our Mother
Who has guarded us from spear and sword
Who has guarded the Inner Gates
Who has guarded the keys to Wisdom

"I stand before the face of our Mother
Who devours our enemies
Who devours our fear
Who devours the World
So be it"