The Reward of The Oolyay by Alden Smith Liam

Author:Alden Smith, Liam [Alden Smith, Liam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liam Alden Smith
Published: 2014-06-14T07:00:00+00:00

IV

The morning came without great apprehension or bloodshed, but rose up and turned the abyss into gray fog cradling a cloud of stale white light. The fog crept around the tents and made them seem like ships adrift in a vast ocean. Inlojem kept watch over the young Vesh as she murmured in her sleep and showed the first convulsions. He pressed himself to wait longer, until she began to shudder uncontrollably. Her eyes opened and she gasped, glaring at him with fear and torment, and Inlojem decided that it was finally time to feed her the Ytiri herb; The Prophecy. He took a mortar and pestle from his small carry pouch, and ground up the herb in it, until the juice ran from it and gathered in the attached vial. He removed the finger-sized depository with an extraction tube and tilted her jaw up, holding her writhing body still as he poured the liquid down her throat.

Slowly the movement went out of her and her body gradually eased into a sense of calm, but her eyes remained open, and for a moment she gained enough consciousness to look upon Inlojem.

“Stay with me- st-stay with me, Necrologist. I will ha-have your re-reward,” she sputtered. Inlojem brushed his weathered hand across her forehead and through her short orange wiry hair.

“What is your name, young one?” Inlojem asked her.

“I…Iquay. I am called The Stalker, Iquay,” she replied.

“Release your fear, Iquay. Allow The Prophecy to enter you,” Inlojem whispered. “I am your caretaker, now until the very end.” Her eyes widened even larger, until they bulged from her head and she gripped Inlojem intensely. Then, her eyes glazed over and she stared upward, seeming to feel some force consume her. She let go of his arm as her body deflated into a sudden calm. After a moment, Inlojem moved his hand in front of her nose, the warm air assuring him that she still lived in his care.

* * *

Teftek muddled with an old battery-powered listener, adjusting the antenna this way and that to play with the channels, sifting through static. Aljefta glanced up at him occasionally, peeling the skin from a vegetable with his oversized combat knife.

“Quanca Angkelm,” Teftek cussed as the white noise chattered against his open ears. “The only stuigen gut-sucker that could boost this thing - why did Pojlim have to go off and get himself killed!” Teftek looked at the listener with his brows furrowed, and exhaled in exasperation. “Make this work,” Teftek ordered, shoving the listener toward Aljefta.

“Ah, come on, Captain,” Aljefta complained, his shoulders shrugging and his hands reflexively putting down the knife and vegetable.

“Just try, okay?!” Teftek pushed it into Aljefta’s now empty hands and walked away from the gathering of soldiers huddled around their morning fire. Dawn hadn’t entirely broken the ridge yet, and Teftek was giving Inlojem the courtesy of time in order to rouse the female Necrologist. Now there’s two of them, he thought indignantly as he placed his butt down on a cracked, rotting log and stared into the gray nothingness of the rolling fog.

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