Lament of the Slave

Stella Palemoon was not proud of herself. The taste of vomit in her mouth served as a reminder of her weakness. Seeing hundreds of beasts cut to pieces did not stir her stomach one bit. Yet to see the torso of the man she had spoken to a few times in the encampment trampled by the beastman turned her guts upside down.

If not for another knight saving their asses, she and Korra would have been in big trouble.

‘Keep it together.’ A simple thought, hard to pull off. Especially since the dead man wasn’t the only one to fall on the battlefield in the last few hours. As time ticked by, as the cycle neared its end, more and more dead humans littered the battlefield.

The more died, the heavier the situation weighed on her. The front lines thinned. The beasts’ - seemed to not. The fight was hopeless, never-ending. Had she not known that some, like Traiana, had survived, panic would have gripped her heart long ago.

The fact she had to remind herself of again and again. This was not a battle the humans had lost. They held this place long enough to build the Labyrinth. And yet . . .

“How much longer?” Had she not been in the Echo, a question Stella might have found the answer to in the internal system clock - now stuck, though. To know the time wasn’t, however,  really why she asked. She just needed to hear someone, to talk to someone, even if only a few words.

Korra, her friend, hadn’t said much in the last few hours. In fact, the last time she tried to talk to her, all she got back was a growl. A beast talk, she was sure of it. Still not very confidence-inspiring. Her friend had either lost the ability to speak Standard or couldn’t discern between the two.

The fear that it wouldn’t be long before Korra would lose her inner battle with her own beast(s) weighed more and more on her mind. A notion her friend could obviously sense from her. On a couple of occasions, Korra made her displeasure clear or tried to assure her in her own way that it wouldn’t happen.

But it could happen, and Stella, whether she liked it or not, had to be ready for it. 

“You are in the final moments of my memories, little one.”

Not quite the answer she was looking for, yet good to hear nonetheless.

“Couldn’t you be more specific?”

Traiana laughed, her ethereal, melodious voice an oddity on the battlefield. “I remember having this conversation before. Knowing you had ten minutes left, would you try harder than if you had a full hour?”

Stella regretted asking. This was not the time for rhetorical questions. The free time they had earned by defeating the last beast could not last long."

“Please.”

“Are you sure? You’ve done great so far.”

‘They did?’

Despite all the skills and potions, Stella was exhausted, thirsty and hungry; the aura in her body snuffed out. Korra seemed more energetic, but she appeared to be slipping further away from her human self. While so far her friend had fought by her side and protected her, ten minutes or an hour could mean the difference between going home with her or having to face her.

Traiana, on the other hand, was right. Knowing the end was just around the corner could have sapped every last bit of vestige of her strength.

“Will she . . . ?” she glanced at Korra. There was no doubt that she could hear her whisper, still she had to ask. “Will she make it?”

Their ancient guide smiled broadly. “You know it’s only been a few minutes since she asked me the same thing about you?”

‘She did?’

Stella looked at her, Korra glanced back and shrugged her wings.

“You are both stronger than you think. Believe in yourself and you will reach your goal. And if not now, then in the next cycle.”

Gritting her teeth, Stella sighed - again, an answer she wasn’t looking for. However, she had to admit, one she needed. Traiana was right again, annoyingly so. If they were to fail here, it wouldn’t be the end of the world - an expression that now had a whole new meaning for her. It would be soul-crushing, though. After all, they’d made it this far.

“I’m sorry, Korra, for doubting you,” Stella said as honestly as she could. As she had learned from her friend, the intent behind the words was more important to the beasts than the words themselves.

The answer Stella received was a soft growl.

“The little guardian says it was not doubt, but concern. No need to apologize for that.”

Suppressing the urge to hug her friend, Stella gave her a nod.

Unfortunately, the sweet mood didn’t last a breath longer.

Korra yelped, a warning of the coming enemy. The little free time they got amidst the battlefield was over. Another beast found its way through the line of senior knights.

A two-star bastard, or from the perspective of her era, a two-hundred-level bitch - a more apt description, given the teats on the belly of the canine beast - that Stella wouldn’t want to face alone. Confidence wasn’t an issue. After all, she had faced countless such beasts, not only in the Pit but also here on the battlefield. The bitch was someone she knew she could stand up to - if only fatigue didn’t eat away at her.

Fortunately, Squad Four’s two members were still standing strong side by side. Stella had Korra’s back, and she had hers. The coordination they had achieved here astonished her. By no means was it easy, totally different from learning to fight alongside other people. This place wasn’t Castiana, its streets kept safe by the city guards.

Korra, in her beast form, was a beast, a very intelligent beast, but a beast nonetheless. A perspective that took Stella a long time to get into her head. However, once she got over her reluctance to degrade her friend to a mere beast and accepted the truth, everything became easier. In simple terms, when you didn’t expect her to act like a human, you couldn’t be thrown off when she acted like a beast.

And so Stella threw herself once more into the deadly dance with her fuzzy partner. Her legs ached, as did her arms. In fact, blisters sprouted on her palms under the hilts of her swords, something she didn’t think she should have to deal with anymore. After years of training, the skin on her palms was as rough as a craftsman’s.

Simply another slap in the face that the battle had dealt her.

The beast roared, as did her friend.

Beast against beast, and she caught in between. Her blades whistled through the air, drawing blood.

***

No sooner had they dealt with the bitch; a beastman was on their asses. A few breaths later, there were two.

Not for nothing did Traiana call them the most dangerous force in this battle. They may not have matched the size or even the levels of the beasts she and the knights otherwise faced. However, they made up for it with their cunning and tenacity. The intelligence they inherited from humans made them truly dangerous.

For instance, one of the beastmen they faced, despite the madness in his eyes, knew how to wield a weapon. Sure, the sword didn’t make him a swordmaster, but since their beast side graced them extra strength, dexterity, and perception, it proved to be enough to stand toe to toe with someone as skilled as Stella. The reason why people like Pom Nilzibarge and even Ronnu had such a hard time with their elite forces.

Korra took the wild one while Stella blocked the attack of the sword wielder. The beastman’s swing, no fines in it, packed so much power that she hissed in pain and nearly dropped her sword. Measuring strength with him turned out to be a bad idea. This was no dick measuring contest - be it one, Stella would surely lose. 

Deflecting and parrying was the way to go.

And so she did just that, keeping the beastman away from her friend, her hands shaking every time their swords clashed.

“Out of my way!” came from the battlefront, and a heartbeat later, the beastman Stella was facing disappeared in a shower of blood. 

“Get lost!” So did the one Korra was clawing at.

A large cougar appeared among the corpses. 

“Vienlin?”

“Ah, hi, gals,” the shifter said with energy and a smile on her lips, not befitting her condition. “Well, looks like this is it for me; I’m out.”

Almost her entire back leg was missing, an enormous gaping hole in her side. How she managed to stand, let alone take down the two beastmen so easily, was beyond Stella. 

“Do you need a healing potion?”

“Nah, I’m fine. The bleeding has stopped. What I need is to get to the healers.”

‘No shit! Actually, where the fuck were they?’ Stella had witnessed countless times those running between the front line and the rear to carry the wounded from the battlefield for healing.

They were the fastest people she’d ever seen, and yet . . .

Korra whimpered as she recovered from the shock of seeing her mentor in such a state.

“She’s asking if you want her to carry you to them - on her back,” Stella quickly translated what Traiana had relayed to her.

“Damn, I had no idea you could speak beast talk.”

“Sort of,” Stella shrugged, not wanting to go into details.

“Anyway, thanks, but no. I can manage on my own. You take care of yourself.”

Korra growled, and Traiana translated again.

“We’ll make you proud,” Stella said, pointing at her friend. “That’s what she said.”

Vienlin looked around at the part of the battlefield where the two of them were active and smiled. “You already have. Frankly, I’m amazed you’re still here. I expected you to be either out there in a pool of your own shit or dragged off to the healers. You have earned your honor today, Eichenralkes.”

Stella may not have had the same regard for this shifter as Korra, but hearing that stung her heart. “We are not Eichenralkes.”

Korra’s apologetic yelp did not need to be translated.

To the surprise of both, Vienlin shrugged. “Everyone knows that.”

“They - you do? But...”

“Okay, gals, while I still have some dignity left, I’m going to crawl away. Not the glorified death in battle, but better to live into the next one, huh?” Vienlin said, wincing as the pain shot through her body despite all her abilities. Then she turned to the battlefront and nodded. “Another beastman slipped through. Do your best.” With those words, she ‘crawled’ away - even with only three legs and an injury in her side, she ran faster than Stella ever could. This was no time to dwell on such trifles, though. They had a fight to do.

 

***

 

“Fuckers!” I growled at the top of my lungs, rushing to Geran’s aid. Daring, reckless, stupid. I couldn’t just stand by and watch as he crashed down a short distance from us, four beastmen on him, one beast. More than stupid. ‘What was more than stupid?’ Absurd, ridiculous, ludicrous. Those weren’t the one- or two-star feral beastmen he was up against. Those were not prey.

Those were hunters like me.

Strong hunters.

Strong pack.

Not my pack, though.

My pack, my human, was with me. Dissatisfied with my impulsive decision. Our pack had no chance against theirs. Not blind, see. Instinct told me not to put my pack in needless danger - run. Couldn’t. Hard not to help.

Hunters ignored me. Humiliating. Understandable. I too weak. No threat to them.

Wrong. They’ll see.

The teacher, Geran, badly hurt. Bleeding, unable to defend himself.

Me making a mistake, aware. I pounced anyway, hit them with my presence. Worked. They were strong. Not enough to resist. Frozen in fear.

I bit the throat of the closest one. Hard, to the bone, making sure he wouldn’t survive, just like the teacher told me. Effective. Disgusting. My mouth full of warm blood and flesh.

A glimmer of blade in the corner of my eye. My human. Unaffected by my presence, I made sure. She fast. Unhesitating. Beastwoman’s head cut off. Clean.

Pride filled my heart. Envy too. 

The taste of blood was disgusting.

I had to move, be quick, not hesitate like my human. It wasn’t enough. The hunters strong. They shook off their fear faster than I had hoped.

Danger!

Their eyes on us. Fleeing not an option. They would kill me, my human and my teacher. I issued my dare, my determination not to tuck my tail between my legs. They pissed, smug, laughing.

The first one moved, sword in hand. My human barely had time to block. She blocked anyway. Good. Sent flying, though. Me even slower - annoying. Got hit with an arrow. It went through the wing. Half of it gone. Hurt like hell. 

Beastman too fast, not giving me a chance to pounce. Another arrow and another. Lots of chances to kill me. He didn’t. Me his game, his prey. Unworthy, in his eyes, to be overpowered by Eleaden. Annoying. Disheartening. Humiliating. Failing myself, my teacher, my pack.

‘Stella, my human!’

Still alive, wounded, bleeding. A game, like me.

Unacceptable!

No time to hesitate. The end slipped away. Another cycle, another try.

Dodge, arrow, pain, other wing gone.

My teacher, Geran, still alive. Hope. He moved to kill the beast, feasting on his flesh. Successful, easy, despite being wounded. Too wounded, though. The beastman with the bow, too fed up with him.

“No!” I cried. That didn’t stop the beastman. He released an arrow, striking my teacher in the chest, right into his heart. 

He was strong. Still hope. 

I would have survived.

Me anomaly, though.

The teacher stopped breathing, the hole in his chest too big. Dead.

Grief.

Anger.

Rage.

I dropped the presence again. Sooner than ever. Hard, painful. The beastman, a quarter of a step to four stars, startled, frozen in fear. He should be. I too angry.

His fear gone, in a few breaths. I struck again.

And again.

He didn’t give up.

Again.

The beastman resisted, tried to push back with his own presence. 

Again and again. Pain, crushing pain, as if my body was being torn from within.

Glimmer of madness in his eyes. Reason, slowly fading away.

Again.

My human was done. Hunter killed, hacked to pieces. Good, very good. Pride.

Again.

The bow fell to the ground, no longer held in the beastman’s fingers. The hunter, my teacher’s killer, lost to his beast instincts.

Again.

I pounced. I bit, tore, clawed - the grief did not go away, even when there was nothing left to tear. Teacher dead. It hurt so much, more than my body. It shouldn’t. Only one cycle, not even my era. Hurt all the same.

“Korra?” spoke my human, Stella. Hurt. Bleeding. Bad. I should lick her wounds. It would help. “What was that? Your presence, I - are you all right?”

A nod. A lie. My body a mess.

“Damn, I thought we were goners. Did you . . .”

A powerful presence. Bringing the human to her knees. I pushed back with my own. Not stronger. Equal. Terrifying.

“So it was you? I wondered.” Human Standard. A cheeky voice, proud, confident, curious. A beastman, tall, muscular, closer to the humans than the others I fought, standing on my teacher’s body. Disrespectful. Infuriating. A human in his hand, held by the throat. A Knight Commander. One I knew. Pom Nilzibarge. Still alive.

“Ohoho,” he laughed as my presence dropped. He lowered his. “I thought there was someone else worth fighting. Not just that bitch.” Standard again, the meaning of the words clear, though. Hatred for the strong female, Ronnu. 

Hard to tell if she was dead or not. My attention on this strong one. Close to five stars, close to my five hundred level presence.

“Quite a disappointment. On the other hand, you’re quite interesting. Would you like to join our side?”

“Never!” I snarled back, angry, wary.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, casually, far too relaxed. “I had a feeling you were the type to refuse, too bad. Maybe . . .” He said, pausing short, his eyes falling on the Knight Commander. “Maybe if I get rid of the ones you care about.”

The beastman, the strong one, broke the human’s neck with a snap. The Knight Commander, Pom Nilzibarge, was dead. He threw his body aside, his eyes on me the whole time, studying me. “Hmm, not that one, huh? What about the female behind you?”