Chương 2: Part 2 - What Follows an Action

The natural habitat of the cerein is wherever you find one growing. Unknown, Ta Satineim Gusje was irrepressible during the long descent into the basin, practically vibrating in place with her excitement to return home. Although not quite at that level of mania, Jackie had to admit that she was rather giddy herself at the prospect of visiting the village. It seemed like longer ago than yesterday that she had felt hopelessly adrift.

The endless, lifeless desert had crept into her mind as surely and inevitably as its sand had crept everywhere else - and only now that they passed the first tough green sprigs did she feel it begin to loosen its hold. A narrow track cut between the fields allowed barely enough space for their massive vehicle to lumber through, its wheels sinking lightly into the rich soil and mud (mud!) of the makeshift road.

"This is incredible," Mark said, leaning forward to get a better view of the tree looming over them. Far up the track, Jackie could see people milling around in front of a large structure set directly against the base of its massive trunk.

"Indeed," Arjun agreed.

"An isolated microbiome in the middle of the desert, remarkably self-contained. It raises so many questions." Mark looked back at him with a bemused expression.

"I was still just talking about the big-ass tree, doc," he said, "but yeah, also that."

"It may be the same thing at the end of the day," Arjun replied.

"From above, the tree looked like it was near the center of the phenomenon. I can't imagine that's a coincidence." Jackie shook her head.

"So, what, now we have a magic tree too?", she groaned.

"Great."

"Even if it isn't magic, it has something special about it," Jesse said, peering up at the colossal trunk. The truck pitched up as the road began to climb toward the tree, and Jackie realized with a start that they were traveling atop one of the tree's giant roots half-buried in the sandy soil. They reached the top of the twisting path and pulled into a large clearing.

On the opposite side of the space a huge building had been constructed from the massive tree's deadfall, timbers that would stand as respectable trees in their own right stretching up to form an imposing longhouse-style structure. A small group of people stood in front of the longhouse as they approached.

"Looks like half the village is here," Mark said.

"How much you want to bet that guy is the leader?" He didn't have to specify further. Like an echo of the tree behind him a massively-built man stood planted in front of the group with his muscular arms crossed over his bare chest. He was tall for a local, although that still put him a few inches shorter than Jackie. Scars stretched across his torso, snaking up to his shoulders and down one arm. He glowered at the approaching vehicle with his craggy face set in a scowl.

"If he's not, then he should be," Jackie said, looking over at their excited passenger. As the truck rolled to a stop, Jackie opened the door barely fast enough to avoid clipping Gusje as she raced across the dusty ground towards the group." Madhema!

", she cried, running up to the leader and flinging her arms around him. A brief trace of shock flickered over his face before his expression softened and he returned her embrace.

"If he's the village leader, it would appear we've saved the village leader's daughter," Arjun commented, adjusting his glasses. After a few seconds Gusje pulled away to smile at her father. He looked down at her and gently caressed her cheek, frowning as he examined her face. Her lip was split, and the side of her face was covered with an angry bruise where she had been struck. His expression darkened, affection shading into rage, and he looked back at the truck with murder radiating from every line of his face.

"... which is a good thing," Mark said worriedly.

"Right?" Gusje collided with her father's chest, his bulk not shifting in the slightest despite her running start. In the desert she was who she must be, but as the chariot rolled up the road to the tree the events of the morning began to make themselves felt. She had almost been taken for the Aedrem, to be used and traded, chained and kept. But for the happy accident of encountering these strangers she would have never again felt her father's strong embrace.

Her eyes were wet again despite her resolve not to weep in front of him, and her tears shone on his chest when she pulled away to look him in the eye. Anger slid into his face as he looked at her injuries, and he turned toward the chariot with the promise of death in his eyes. Gusje felt a stab of alarm and gripped his hand tightly.

"Father, no!", she said urgently.

"The men in the chariot saved me. The Aedrem surprised me when I was gathering, and if not for them I would have been taken." Her father looked back down at her, the anger in his eyes receding but not fading.

"These Aedrem," he rumbled.

"Do they live?"

"No," she whispered. He nodded in satisfaction, then looked back at the chariot. Gusje turned to see Mark and Jesse climbing out, taking wary positions on either side of the front. Mark had his strange weapon, and she saw that Jesse had one identical to it. She grabbed her father's wrist, speaking quickly and quietly.

"Father, these are dangerous men," she said.

"They saved me and were kind, but I don't know who they are or why they're here. They killed four Aedrem like blinking, and one of those had a saon drai." He frowned.

"An Aedre did, and they slew him? I will speak to them," he said, only to pause as his daughter gave him a troubled look.

"They speak strangely," she said.

"And amongst themselves they use words I have never heard before." Tesvaji's eyes narrowed.

"Odd," he commented.

"There are old stories about islands and far valleys where people spoke using different words, but I had not thought to meet any in my lifetime." He sighed, shaking his head.

"It will make things difficult. Will they understand me?" She nodded.

"The tall one speaks well enough," she confirmed. Her father bent down and touched his forehead to hers, a sly smile cracking across his stone visage.

"Daughter of mine," he said quietly, "Later you will tell me which giant is 'the short one.' Stay here while I speak." The smile faded, and the face of her father was replaced by that of the Madi.

"I am Tesvaji Ma Meguzha!", he called out, his voice echoing back from the nearby huts as he walked towards the chariot with slow, measured steps.

"Ademen Tacen is my home, and you stand on its land. I ask as the Madi - why have you come?" The two men conferred for a moment. Mark whispered insistently to Jesse, who repeatedly shook his head. Finally, with an exasperated look, Mark turned to face them.

"We bring Gusje," he said, indicating her with one hand.

"We trade for food and water." Tesvaji's face hardened, and Jesse took a hasty step forward." Also," he added quickly, dropping his eyes. He looked like he immediately regretted speaking, and his next words were a barely-audible mumble.

"We also want to trade for food and water," he muttered, quickly stepping backward once more. Mark shot him a look that was equal parts abashed and annoyed. Gusje saw the barest hint of a smile flicker on her father's face.

"If that is so, as Madi I welcome you to the shade of the cerein," he said formally. His posture relaxed, and he looked back at her before continuing.

"My daughter tells me that you saved her from the Aedrem. As her father I welcome you into my home. Come inside, we will speak of what happened." Mark nodded and motioned to the chariot. Jackie stepped out before turning back to help Arjun down from the high step. He scowled at her offered arm, but accepted it as he gingerly lowered himself to the ground. The four of them walked together toward Tesvaji, who beckoned them forward to the door of the longhouse.

Jackie had to practically shove Arjun inside to stop him gawking at the strings of utelym gently swaying above their drip-barrels, quivering droplets of water sliding gently down their tethers. He began whispering to Jackie with their odd, sharp words as she shooed him forward, his hands dancing animatedly as he talked. It was cool inside, and dark.

They sat around Tesvaji's head table, the two larger men with some difficulty, and a moment passed while everyone got settled in and small wooden cups of water were laid in front of them. Gusje introduced each of the travelers in turn, struggling with Mark's name once again.

"Water and shelter," Tesvaji said formally as he drank from his own cup, "be welcome. Now tell me - these Aedrem. Where were they hunting?"

"Less than a half-day's walk to Sun's Birth," Gusje answered.

"They were encamped waiting for travelers in a pass." She shook her head angrily.

"I never thought they would range this far, or I would have had my eyes open for them."

"They grow bold," he rumbled, "or desperate." Tesvaji looked at the travelers, who smiled politely back at him. Of the four, Gusje judged that three hadn't understood more than a few words of their conversation. Jesse may have heard more, but he was looking off to the side in intense study of the floor.

"Did you see many Aedrem in the area?", her father asked, speaking slowly and directing his question towards the travellers. Mark and Jesse exchanged a glance.

"Aedrem," Mark said questioningly.

"Men from morning?" Tesvaji grunted a confirmation, although her practiced study of his expression could also read surprise on his face - a feeling she shared. From how far away were these travelers that they did not know the Aedrem?

"No men - no people," Mark said haltingly.

"We go same way as today for, ah, ten and two days. No people." Gusje blinked. Twelve days by chariot from far to Sun's Birth? There was nothing out there but sand and death, only the lost or foolhardy dared venture that far beyond the warding stones. Every so often a particularly hungry group would go deep into the ashlands convinced that they knew the resting place of some ancient treasure or the road to one of the broken cities.

If they returned at all, the survivors spoke only of thirst and hunger, the scouring sand, the esemadhem and the quietly shambling horrors that wandered out from the shores of Asu Saqarid. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. She exchanged a glance with her father.

"We should speak more of this later," Tesvaji sighed.

"For now we have more urgent matters. There was an Aedre who carried a saon drai in the group you fought. Do you have it?" Mark looked at Jesse, who shrugged and shook his head.

"What is that?", Mark asked. Gusje and her father must have done a poor job of keeping the astonishment from their faces, because Mark grimaced and turned back to Jesse for another quickly whispered conversation. Jesse pulled the Aedre's sword from his pack and gave it to Mark, who carefully set it on the table between them.

"Is this?", he asked tentatively.

"You have a chariot," Gusje said in disbelief.

"You must know what a saon-""Later," Tesvaji said, his tone grim.

"This may be worse than I had assumed." Her father picked up the sword from the table and unsheathed it with a practiced motion. He brought it close to his face, studying the medallion inset into the blade.

"An edge-striker," he muttered.

"Sjocelym military make, and finely done. An officer's sword." He looked back at Gusje, a sad resignation in his eyes.

"The one who carried this, he was their leader?," her father asked.

"Tall and clean-shaven with a hoarse voice?" Gusje nodded, dread coalescing in her gut.

"He was the one who caught me. You knew him?", she asked.

"He was Guso, the only son of Mosidhu Ma Gu," Tesvaji answered, sheathing the blade.

"We had met before when his father brought him to a meeting of Madim. He was as prideful and dangerous as his name would suggest, and his fellow Aedrem rallied well to him as their scion. He was quick to show this blade, loving the fear and jealousy it provoked." He stood from the table and closed his eyes, letting out a long exhalation.

"When he does not return, they will look for him. They will find his broken body in the desert, ravaged and picked clean. When he hears of his beloved son's death and desecration Mosidhu will rally all Aedrem to him," Tesvaji said.

"He will whip them into a rage, and they will follow the tracks leading away from Guso's body."

"And they will come here," Gusje said, the chill spreading from her core.

"How long?"

"Three days," Tesvaji answered, "perhaps four. The longer they delay, the more Aedrem will answer his call. Once Mosidhu's rage can wait no longer, they will come to Ademen Tacen."

"We have arrangements to keep the peace," Gusje said desperately.

"Would they break them so easily?" Her father looked at her, a deep weariness in his eyes.

"His son is dead," he said simply, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"If you had not come back today, only the thought of your mother, brother and sister would keep me from dying with Guso's heart in my hand. Mosidhu has no other children, and he cares little for the women he takes. All he has now is vengeance, and he will visit it upon us even if the world burns in his wake." She contemplated her father's words, feeling the truth of them as they settled into her mind.

Her response died half-formed, however, because at that moment the door to the longhouse burst open to reveal the furious face of her mother. The four travelers hastily excused themselves as a diminutive woman barreled into the longhouse, swooping upon Gusje to smother her with hugs and a tirade of angry shouting that soon came back in equal volume from the younger woman. Tesvaji, adopting a blank look, simply stared straight ahead and held very, very still.

The shouting dropped in volume as they eased the door shut behind them.

"Well," Arjun said.

"Someone's in trouble."

"They're all in trouble," Jesse said mournfully. He explained what he had heard, recounting Tesvaji's grim predictions. The four of them stood in silence for a long moment when he had finished.

"Well, shit," Mark said.

"We have to do something," Jackie insisted.

"We did do something," Mark retorted.

"Look how that worked out. Jack, we're strangers here. We don't know anything about the local politics and we have no backup coming." Jackie gave him a withering look.

"Whatever you think we should have done, the fact is that we brought this to their doorstep. Do you think it's right that we just skip off into the desert and leave them to deal with it?"

"Of course not!", Mark snapped.

"But the solution to every problem can't be 'Mark and Jesse kill a bunch of people' either. As much as Tesvaji seems like a nice dude, remember that we don't know shit about him. For all we know he's a brutal warlord that rules over the only food and water for miles. How much has he really told us about the Aedrem? They could be political refugees, persecuted religious minorities, who knows?" He threw his hands up in the air and paced frustratedly, shaking his head.

"You can't trust people like this at face value," he said darkly.

"How they treat men with guns is often pretty different from how they treat everyone else."

"Come on," Jackie scoffed.

"You think Tesvaji is some power-mad despot? Is that really the impression you get from him, from his village?" Mark sighed and stopped his pacing.

"No," he admitted.

"That wasn't my impression. But we've known the man for less than an hour, Jack. There's likely a lot more to him than what we saw just now. You can't tell me a guy that goes around looking like a fun-size Conan the fucking Barbarian is some peaceful farmer-type who lives in harmony communing with their big fuckoff tree. You saw his face when he thought we had hurt Gusje. You saw how he handled that sword. He's a killer, and I'd bet he's pretty good at it."

Tesvaji's burning eyes flashed out from Jackie's memory, making her wince.

"Yeah, okay," she said.

"I know it's not all glitter and unicorns out there, and I know the people here have probably done some stuff to survive that I wouldn't be comfortable watching. But what if he's a good man, Mark? What if he's such a scary bastard because he has to be to protect the people here from people like the four we saw? And what if we just doomed them all by saving that girl? Are you so sure that he's not worth helping?"

"No, dammit!", Mark shouted, drawing some curious stares from nearby villagers.

"I'm not sure," he said, lowering his voice.

"I don't know what we've gotten into here. I just know that it's easy to feel like you've got the big swinging dick of righteous authority when all you've really got is a gun. I'm saying we should keep our heads down and not commit to anything until we know more. Our primary objective in coming here was supplies."

"Supplies could be difficult if they think they're going to be attacked," Jesse observed. Mark glared at him, and Jesse held his hands up placatingly.

"I'm with you," he said, "I don't want to start trouble, but you know how it is. People hold on to food and water when things get tough."

"Negotiations would go a lot better if you'd talk to the other side, you know," Mark pointed out irritably. Jesse shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah. I don't think that would, um..." he said quietly, trailing off and looking at the ground.

"Arjun, you've been quiet," Jackie cut in, glaring at Mark.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know that I'm qualified to weigh in," he demurred. Some of Jackie's irritation began to slip his way.

"You've been around the block, at least."

"You mean I'm old," Arjun said, smiling faintly.

"Not really a qualification, I'm afraid, but if you want to hear my opinion…" The old man adjusted his glasses and looked at each of them in turn, then sighed.

"It's not an easy situation," he said.

"Mark is right that we don't know what we don't know. What we do know is that absent our intervention today's hostilities likely would have began and ended with Gusje. Now the entire village is involved." He held up a hand to forestall Mark's objection.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't have intervened. I doubt very much that those men were about to ask her to tea, and if we saw what we did and kept driving on I imagine we would all be regretting it very much by now." Arjun looked at Mark intently.

"I applaud your mindfulness," he said.

"Just remember that both action and inaction are a choice. Often there is no middle path, and the passage of time is more likely to seal options away than to provide them. Not deciding and simply waiting to see what happens - that was Captain Grande's mistake," he said sourly.

"We should learn from his example."

"Walsh!", a voice barked behind him, startling Mark from his heat-induced daze.

"Is Sergeant Diaz around?" He spun and saluted reflexively, his eyes watering as he stared into the sunlight shining past Captain Grande's head.

"No sir," he replied.

"She stepped out for lunch."

"Hmph," he grunted.

"The merchants?"

"Still inside, sir," Mark replied.

"The sergeant asked me to keep an eye on them, they've been touchy ever since the cartographic team showed them the drone footage. I've been listening when I'm on duty for linguistics sessions, and they keep saying how it's not safe, they need to leave." The captain finally noticed Mark's eyes straining against the sunlight and moved to the side, allowing him to shift his head in a less painful direction.

"Did they seem sincere to you?", he asked. Mark considered, remembering the caravaneer's wide eyes as he shouted at Sergeant Diaz.

"Yes sir," he replied.

"They seemed scared after they realized how close we were to the mountains. I think they're lost, and that they didn't intend to come this way."

"Hmph," the captain said thoughtfully.

"The mountains. Well, they're safe as long as they're here with us. Tell Sergeant Diaz I want to see her when she's back."

"Yes sir," Mark replied, saluting as the captain departed. He watched his receding back for a few moments before a shuffling noise caused him to turn curiously behind him. A determined-looking private limped through the door with his foot bound tightly in a brace.

"Fuck," he spat.

"Did I miss the captain?"

"The fuck you walking around for, Correia?", Mark said reproachfully.

"I thought Doc Diaz said you had to stay off your ankle."

"She did, and I have been, but it feels fine," he said, hopping on the brace lightly.

"See?"

"Jesus fuck, stop doing that!", Mark said urgently, clapping his hands on Correia's shoulders.

"You damn near twisted your foot off the day before yesterday, if you can't feel it hurting it means there's something wrong. Stay here, I'm going to go find Diaz."

"Mark, I'm fine," Correia insisted, grabbing his sleeve before he could walk away.

"I can feel my foot, and I can definitely feel pain because this damn boot is pinching me every time I take a step. All I can think of is that it must not have been as bad as it looked." Mark looked at him flatly.

"Martin. Your fucking foot was bent ninety degrees sideways. The only reason they didn't stuff you back through the rabbit hole is that the media has drones buzzing the other side. Last thing we need is your dumb ass in a stretcher plastered all over the news." He frowned.

"I thought the other side was a no-fly zone?"

"It is," Mark agreed, "but if you had listened to your last few girlfriends, you'd know it's pretty hard to spot small objects in the dark." He chuckled and dodged as Correia took an irritated swat at him, then stepped back to clap him on the shoulder.

"Seriously, man, go back inside and take it easy. We've all been hauling heavy-ass batteries for the MRAP hybrids or marching around behind Dr. Yin listening to him talk about sand. The med tent has HVAC set up, everyone out here wishes they were in your… shoe."

"Fuck off, man," Correia grumbled.

"It's boring as hell in there, and those locals are sketching me out. One of them has been rocking back and forth just muttering shit to himself over and over. The last hour and a half, just 'vech immin ooteeva, vech immin ooteeva,'" he complained, wrapping his arms around himself and rocking to demonstrate.

"I need out, man. Dude's creepy." Mark shook his head.

"Don't let him get to you, he's had a bad time of it. Got lost in the desert, picked up by a bunch of weird fucking giants with funny haircuts, you'd be muttering some shit to yourself too. Try and get some rest, I'll let the doc know you want to talk to her after she's done with the captain."

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, interrupted only by Diaz loudly berating Correia for hopping around on his foot - but then, after another hour of testing, reluctantly releasing him to duty when a thorough examination could find nothing wrong with his ankle. Mark left with him to go grab a late dinner, listlessly shuffling through the line at the DFAC. Mark looked around after collecting his food and spotted Jesse methodically attacking some potatoes.

Correia grabbed him before he had taken two steps, an annoyed look on his face.

"Come on, man," he said, "do we have to sit with Gibson? I've had enough of creepy muttering today."

"Don't be a dick," Mark said mildly, continuing toward the table.

"Dude has his quirks, but he works harder than either of us. Especially you." He smirked, waving off Correia's indignant reply.

"More importantly, he's smart. I wanted to ask him something." He half-dragged Correia the rest of the way to the table, letting his tray clatter on the bare metal surface.

"Hey, Jesse," he said amiably.

"Hi," Jesse replied, eating another bite of potato. He didn't raise his eyes from his tray, and Correia shot a long-suffering look Mark's way.

"You've been hitting every one of the language sessions, right?", Mark asked.

"I hear you picked it up pretty well." Jesse finished chewing his mouthful, then swallowed.

"Kinda," he said, still staring at his tray.

"Martin heard one of the merchants say something," he continued.

"Sounded like 'vech immin ooteeva.' That mean anything to you?" Jesse's fork paused halfway to his mouth, and he raised his eyes to look past Mark.

"Vejh eimyn utiiva?", he asked. Mark turned to look at Correia, who shrugged.

"Sounds about right," he said grudgingly.

"What does it mean?"

"Hmm," Jesse said, setting his fork down. His eyes focused on the wall behind them and he rubbed a hand along his cheek.

"Silent things…", he muttered.

"No. They that are silent. Silent ones," he said, spearing another piece of potato and chewing on it thoughtfully.

"The silent ones are coming."