Sajani Tails

       Gregor stood, turned, and put his back to her. As she was getting ready to go into the river, he asked her, “Can I ask you a somewhat personal question?”

       That sounded ominous, but she was confident that, coming from him, it wouldn’t be anything too horrible. “Sure.”

       “Why do you have so much trouble being alone?”

       Ok, so maybe it could be a really horrible question. She paused while she tried to gather her thoughts. Hopefully, like many times before, he’d take her silence as not wanting to answer and retract his question. It must have been something he really wanted to know, because he didn’t take it back. “It comes from when I found out my mother died. Benayle and a priest, Father Lamarr, came to see my paw and I.” Her voice was shaking. Please, please take back the question, she thought. “I heard Benayle tell my father that my mother told her troops, ‘Kra’la al’ark.’” Gregor remained silent. Why did he even need to know? Why did she feel like she had to tell him? She’d never told anyone this much about it. “That night I saw her in a dream. She was lying near a big stone building that looked like a church. She whispered, ‘Sajani’et al’ark’ and then her eyes closed. I looked around and I was alone on a mountainside, there was no one else there. I shouted out for help and no one answered.” There were now tears in her eyes and it was impossible for Gregor to not  know she was hurting. Why did he let her hurt like this? Why did he insist on an answer? Why did she feel like she had to answer? “I had that same dream, sometimes multiple times a night for months after that.” Why’d he pick this, of all times, to ask his question? While she was half dressed? Perhaps, a voice inside her said cynically, that’s why he picked it.

       Gregor’s back was still to her and as he spoke, she felt positive that he wanted to be near her and comfort her. That wouldn’t be as embarrassing as it could be, but still… “I’m sorry you experienced that. I’d try to tell you I’ll never leave you unless you want me to go, but after what’s happened so far in your life, I doubt you’d believe me.”

       While she was thrilled to hear him say that, she also knew he was right: believing anyone that said that wasn’t an option. Her experiences so far didn’t allow it. Two of her childhood friends, her mother, and in many ways, her father as well. They’d all left her. Being alone was how she defined herself now.

       Whether he meant to or not, Sajani was never sure, he answered most of her recent questions when he said, “Maybe… now that it’s out in the open and you’ve faced that fear, you can start to heal.”

      Plaster fell from the ceiling, trailing white dust behind it and spewing its uncleanness over the expensive furniture in the sitting room. The enemy’s artillery had been bombarding the city of Yasef for the last hour. It wouldn’t be long before the last of the troops fell and the strange newcomers to the world of Terah took possession of the Rathaus. Surrender wasn’t an option they were given and now, the capital of Zenache was doomed to fall in the next few hours, like most of their major cities had over the last week. All their military had been able to do was provide non-civilian targets.

      There were two people in the room, although the human would have been loathe to call the other a “person.” Liaison Troubet was a staunch and rough looking human, with the light hair and eyes typical of his countrymen. His military uniform was in better shape than the rough spun clothing and furs of the other occupant, but not by much. He’d left the trenches outside the rathaus to be at this meeting. It was a sign of pure desperation Zenache would even seek aid from the wolf folk of Vharkylia, commonly called vykati. The human nation of Rhidayar, directly to their south, had flat out refused to send help. “You’re sure you can get this message to your lady general in time?”

      The wolf person had a particularly wild look about him, even for his race. Vykati stand on their toes, like the wolves they share appearance with, but walk upright. This one introduced himself as Blade, definitely a nickname, and seemed as though he’d run from his home country to here without ever changing clothes. Another explosion shook the room, and they could hear a light fixture fall nearby, creating a musical crash as crystal struck hardwood and slid across the floor. The vykati’s brown fur was matted with sweat. Syllables came from his lips, sounding a little like profanity of some kind to the human’s ears. It might have been, because Blade then growled low before saying, “I give her.” He didn’t speak Zenache at all and what little of the common tongue he spoke was heavily accented, both with strange vowels and occasional growls.

      Troubet’s orders from the royal family were simple: make a last attempt to surrender, try to keep the government intact, and buy as much time as possible for the final evacuations of the capital. Hopefully those fleeing could find shelter in Rhidayar. Vharkylia, as was typical of the wolf nation, made no promise as to the safety of any humans, not even refugees of war.

      The human handed an envelope to the vykati and headed straight for the door, not bothering to look back as Blade exited the building heading the opposite direction. The brown wolf had shown up rather mysteriously, bearing a seal from Lady General Sajani of his home country. She wanted to know details regarding the enemy before she would request her leadership send aid.

      There wasn’t much to tell. It was too late to save his country.

      Artillery fire hit three more times before he reached the door. One was close enough to shatter the nearby windows and sent him ducking under a table for protection. It was a wonder the building was still standing.

      Grabbing a white cloth that’d fallen, he opened the door and stepped out with his head held high. The rest of the soldiers there had left earlier to make their last stand. The civilians had been fleeing for days. This was the last effort to be made before the country fell. Diplomacy hadn’t worked up to this point, but it was the only chance the liaison had left.

      Before him stood the courtyard, the bright tulips and other flowers that usually graced the gardens were wilted and a shadow of their former beauty. The gateway entrance that he’d last seen with its cast-iron fence locked and chained had been crushed under the treads of a huge machine that was topped with a turret containing a gigantic set of cannons. They were pointed directly at the door. Welded together to form a circle, the barrels had a frightening and intimidating effect.

      To either side of the machine stood enemy soldiers with rifles raised. Standing before the huge war construction were two more. Their disposition, a sort of solid casualness, bespoke their status as veteran officers. These were not  line soldiers who’d only experienced a few weeks of war. Those two had trudged through the hell of war for years, if not decades. It showed in their eyes and their ability to look alert and unconcerned at the same time.

      One had a pistol at his side. The other not only didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons, but he’d also removed his helmet and was holding it to his side, allowing the Zenache man to see the pointed ears he’d heard about in prior reports. It was true then: these pale people weren’t human and mostly likely not from Terah at all unless, like the vykati, they were humans that’d changed form.

      Holding the white cloth before him and hoping it meant the same to them as it did to him, Troubet walked boldly up to the two closest soldiers.

      The armed one held out a hand and said in rough common, “Stop there.”

      Troubet obeyed. No sense starting off the negotiations on the wrong foot. He knew how much influence he could have on these two and it didn’t amount to much.

      Leaning together and speaking softly in a language he didn’t understand, the two spoke for a while before the first one said almost kindly, “You wish to surrender? By what authority?”

      So they did understand the meaning of the white cloth. “I am Liaison Micktil Troubet, Chief Officer to the Crown of Zenache. I speak on behalf of the royal family.”

      The two conversed some more briefly and then one handed his pistol to the other. When they finished, they approached carefully and the first one said, “We will accept your country’s unconditional surrender. You’re not in a position to negotiate terms. We’ll set our own.”

      Relief washed over the Liaison. So this was the end of the fighting, at least for now. Hopefully Rhidayar and Vharkylia would do better against this enemy. They didn’t have as strong a military as Zenache, but with more warning, there might be a chance of success. Even as he had those thoughts, however, Troubet knew there was no hope for those countries either.

      The soldier that’d done all the speaking continued, “We’ll be sending a message to your royal family. We’re disappointed they refused to meet us in person. At least your king should have been present here. I’m sure our method of communication will be one that cannot be misunderstood.”

      “I’d be happy to relay any message to…” He noticed the other soldier had raised the pistol and was pointing it directly at his forehead. The nature of this message was going to be exceptionally clear and bought at a higher price than the liaison wanted.

      “I’m sure you will.”

      The pistol fired.

      Her parents agreed.