Eight
Jas trudged along for a long while, feeling alone and unwanted. What would happen if Bea was gone? The only one in the whole tribe to accept him for who and not what he was, and she was dying. Even while he'd been young, and naïve - or 'sweet and innocent', as Jark had put it - they'd more or less only just tolerated him. Now, battle-scarred and dangerous, how long would it be before the others sent him packing back to the factories? And they would probably shoot him on sight, after what he did… annoyance to the mudokons and traitor to his own species, he had nowhere to fit, nowhere to belong…
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost walked straight into a lake, a crystal blue, and as calm as a mirror. He leaned over it, cocked his head, and scrutinised his reflection. Odd. He'd not thought to look at his reflection before now, and so had never seen himself without his mask. Frowning faintly, he wondered what he did look like, really. He reached up, fumbled with the catch on the mask, frustratedly - taking it off was still tricky and still hurt, even after all this time...
At long last he managed to tear it off his face, and hurled it as far out over the pool as he could, sending ripples chasing over the mirror surface. He looked back at his reflection in the pool, and sat there for a long time after that, just staring, his mournful countenance staring back. Those huge red eyes, glowing like lamps. The dull mottled yellow-olive-grey skin, painful red sores where the edges of the ill-fitting mask had rubbed at it. The long prehensile tentacles, hanging lifelessly in front of his face. The long, starkly-visible scars that covered his skin in a tracery of paler lines.
"They were right, after all…" he sighed, softly, shoulders drooping. "I am ugly, 'specially now..." He dropped a stone into the water, watched it shiver his reflection to pieces, then flopped backward onto the grass, and gazed up at the darkening sky.
Some time later there came the soft, lowing bellow of an elum. He didn't look up; it'd only be someone to tell him Bea was finally gone, and that he could go drown himself in the lake. The dark cobalt night sky was sprinkled with tiny pinpoint stars, by now, and had been for some time, and the moon with its mudokon pawprint hung low and fat just above the horizon.
"Hey, Jas," it was Tam. He sat down beside him, dangling his feet in the lake, then lay back into the thick lakeside sedges and watched the sky with the dour creature beside him. "You took your mask off."
Jas nodded. "I chucked it in the pond. Made my face hurt."
"Didn't much like it, anyway. Made you look daft, I suppose, having got used to you without it."
Jas frowned, and half sat up, propped up on one elbow. "Yer don' think I'm ugly?"
"Hey, look," the young mudokon looked up at him and laughed, both paws on his chest, and sploshed water with his feet. "Who are we to judge? We ain't exactly amazingly beautiful ourselves."
Jas managed to crack a smile, but it quickly faded.
"Worried 'bout Bea?" Tam asked, putting his paws behind his head, kicking at the water and shattering the moons' reflections into splinters of silver.
Jas nodded, solemnly. "Yeah," he said, softly.
"Aw, she'll be okay," Tam smiled, reassuringly. "I went and saw the healer before I came to find you, and he reckoned he'd seen mudokons pull through after worse…"
"But… she's so old…"
Tam laughed. "Don't let her hear you say that, sunshine," he said, gave the slig a push. "Ladies can be verrry touchy about their age, you know…”
Jas smiled, faintly, and leaned back into the reeds; watched a meteorite draw a brilliant blue-white streak across the sky. “So… why yer here…?”
“We were getting worried about you.”
“Hph,” Jas sniffed. “I find that hard to believe…”
“Why? C’mon, stop being such a misery-guts. We’d better get back - I don’t really want to meet up with a paramite, and I’m getting hungry. We’ll miss dinner if we don’t go soon…”
The village was bustling when they wandered back in; Tam leading the elum and chatting amiably with the young slig. Lamps lining the main thoroughfare were burning merrily. Jas managed a grin - the village had grown a little, and the main square had been planted up with a stand of small trees, benches by their trunks, and the well had a roof, now - but it hadn’t changed much otherwise… It was still a welcoming enough place to arrive at… Well, it would have been welcoming, if not for-
"Oh, lookie who it is…" a familiar voice drawled from somewhere behind, dangerous undercurrents in its poisonous tones.
Jas scowled and stood stock still, feeling the rage building inside him, blindingly hot… just a little closer, Gar, he thought, carefully nursing his unstable temper. JUST a little… He and Tam had reached the main square, so he’d have plenty of room…
Gar laughed, coldly; perhaps if he'd looked a little closer and seen just how battle-scarred his old victim was he'd have decided discretion was the better part of valour and let him be. But he had a bone to pick; an old, simmering resentment that wouldn't go away just like that. "Fleech got your tongue, Spider?" he jeered, waltzing nearer.
The second he sensed the mudokon was close enough, Jas exploded; a bundle of furious energy, he leaped straight up off the ground with a howl of "We'll see who's helpless without a weapon!" and span and floored the mudokon with a smart kick to the stomach.
Gar gave an "oof!" of surprise and doubled over. Jas honked, savagely, and scarcely gave him time to look up before he was on him, seemingly all fists and feet…
They raged about the main square for some time, until one of Gar's friends managed to get a knife to him - that led to a brief standoff. The two combatants circled, warily, each looking for an opportunity. Gar lunged - Jas vaulted out of the way not-quite-quick enough, the knife ripping a gash over his ribs, nearly going deep enough to reveal the bone. Jas gave a howl of fury and pain and redoubled his efforts, kicking out with both feet and sending the knife spinning away with such force it dug into a treetrunk and stuck there, quivering. It was a near-miracle that it hadn’t done the same to one of the onlookers, for Jas' honks of fury had brought quite a crowd of mudokons running. They gathered in a loose ring about the two combatants, not wanting to get too close just in case they got involved…
One had fetched a spear and was about to step in and break the two fighters apart with it when there was a gentle touch at his shoulder; turning, he found Bea standing there. She shook her head, mutely, a faint smile touching her ancient lips.
"But-" He protested briefly.
"Listen," the old lady said, calmly.
The mudokon frowned, but listened. “But I still don’t…” his words tailed off as understanding dawned.
Jas' howls had reached fever-pitch; all those months of 'training' meant he definitely had the upper hand against his former tormentor by now, and it was taking every ounce of the mudokon's superior agility to keep the infuriated slig away from his throat. "All those weeks… all these months…!" he honked, scarcely feeling the pain of the blood that flowed from all the little wounds on his lean frame. "Yer made me feel so small, tormented me with my own helplessness, and I was stupid enough to believe yer!"
Gar had his arms up in front of his face, wailing; "I'm sorry…!"
The battle was over the second the slig span and kicked, viciously. The solidly unyielding metal of his ‘foot’ caught the mudokon smartly at an odd angle on the arm; Gar gave a wail as there was the sharp, unmistakable snap! of bone breaking, then crumpled, whimpering fitfully.
Jas stood and panted, chest heaving, covered in bruises and slowly oozing cuts. “Now p’raps yer goin’ ter leave me in peace…?” he said, calmly; Gar just whimpered and cradled his broken arm to his chest.
Nerves still singing, the slig span round, startled, and almost lashed out when a hand dropped onto his shoulder, but caught himself just in time. "Bea?" he managed, in a squeak; his throat had suddenly constricted.
The old mudokon smiled, gently. Her shoulders were swathed in bandages and she was limping, a crutch under one arm, but she looked all right apart from that. "Let's go get you cleaned up," she said, mildly.
He nodded, faintly, and followed meekly, prompting surprised, approving noises from the assembled muds. One darted over to Gar, helped him to his feet and away, and the crowd drifted apart.
Bea sat down by a lamp at the edge of the square, and indicated that Jas should sit beside her. He sat patiently while she bandaged up his wounds, wincing as she applied a poultice of herbs to where the skin had been torn in his upper arm and wrapped cloth over it to keep it in place. He had to grit his teeth, grimly, the painkiller not working as well as he'd have liked, as she carefully stitched the savage gash in his chest, then applied the herbs to that, too.
"Now," she said, sternly, tying the final bandage off. "Before you get all antsy and decide I'm making fun of you…" She scrambled to her feet and hobbled over to where she’d left her satchel.
"Whatcha doin', Bea…?"
"Patience, Jas…" she fished something out, and held it out in her old hands.
"Wha's that?" he asked, cocking his head, taking the elegant carved wood and reed and feather object she'd held out.
She smiled, and took it back. "Sit still," she told him, and carefully placed it over his snout, lightly tying it off under his chin with two fine cords
He blinked at her, confusedly. "A mask…?"
"More for your benefit than ours," she replied, with a laugh. "Now no-one can complain that they don't like what you look like, can they?"
He nodded, and smiled. "S'pose so," he agreed, examining his reflection in the bowl of water that Bea had used to wash his cuts. The mask was well crafted - didn’t hamper either his hearing or his powerful sense of smell - and light - he felt he could easily forget it was there. “Thanks, Bea.”
She smiled, fondly. “Don’t mention it. Now, let’s go see about supper…”
It was early next morning. One of the rescued slaves from the hatchery had arranged the eggs carefully in a nest of reeds and soft grasses, and was sitting attending them. He looked up at the footsteps; Bea was walking over, Jas on one side, Tam on the other, and two guards behind.
"Hi," the attendant said, with a grin. "Can I help?"
Bea smiled back. "Just checking we got them all."
"Uh-huh," he nodded. “The shamans took the queen, as we’d thought they would, but we’ve got the rest. They all look good; healthy, warm…. They looked pleased we’d got the queen.”
Bea nodded, and smiled at her foster son. "I’m sure they did. Well done, Jas."
Jas blushed, self-consciously, but it didn't stop the rush of pride at the old mudokon's praise. “Aw, c’mon… all I did was nick the thing…”
Bea laughed, then crouched and looked at the odd-shaped slig’s egg that they'd snagged. “Is this one as healthy…?” She asked the attendant.
He shrugged, gently pressed both palms to the matt shell. “Well…” he said, thoughtfully.
“Hole in the ground,” Jas muttered.
Bea swatted his arm. “Oh shush, Jas.”
The attendant smiled. “It feels okay. There’s little tremors in it every now and then, so… yeah, I think it’s okay.”
Bea nodded. “I wonder what it’ll look like when it hatches…”
“Yer look like yer got ideas,” Jas pointed out.
She nodded and smiled, but wouldn’t say anything more.
Five weeks and six days later, the odd slig egg hatched. Jas cocked his head and looked at the squealing infant. "Bea…?" he asked, softly, as the old mudokon reached out for it.
"Yes Jas, what is it?" She asked, as the infant settled down in her arms and sucked at its hand.
"That looks… well, I mean, it… is it… female?"
Bea chuckled. “I think so. I’d suspected it from the start - the egg was a lot bigger than yours had been.”
“Why didn’ yer say?”
“I didn’t want anyone getting their hopes up,” she grinned at him.
He blushed. “Aw, Bea…” he whined.
Then both noticed. The infant queen… had legs. Proper bony little legs, vaguely mudokon in appearance, with tiny claws on the toes. They exchanged glances.
“This must have been what Vykkers did,” Bea said, standing and walking to the main square, Jas trotting alongside. “A little bit of genetic manipulation…”
"Yeah, but… why would they experiment on a queen egg?" he asked.
"Skillya doesn't want competition, Jas, that's why. The two queens would fight over whose offspring gets which job, and that would worry the glukkons. They’d stand a good chance of not having soldiers at all, if the queens ended up warring with each other. Vykkers’ Labs obviously thought it a shame, letting the egg go to waste by destroying it; they probably would later have sterilised or destroyed this youngster, had we not rescued her."
“Lucky fer her that we did, then.”
“Certainly is.”
"So… I guess it'd be, uh… prudent… not to advertise the fact we’ve got a fertile queen slig here, then…" He said, wryly.
Bea chuckled, and settled her tired old frame onto a bench. "It would certainly be that, Jas," she laughed, and the little female in her arms squealed in delight.
Hm, the old lady thought, once Jas had headed off out to help gather food and firewood. Prudent - discreet, or wise. Yes, that fitted. 'Prudence'.
And maybe, with a bit of luck, a little help from a certain wise old mudokon, and a lot of patience, the little queen would live up to her name.
~ Fin.
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