The Collection

Chapter 6: Weakness

Da’ar watched the Natranian female collapse to the floor; he moved swiftly to kneel down next to her and placed two fingers against her throat. A faint pulse beat against his fingers, and he looked up at Bha’ruk as the elder snarled at Ji’ran’s lifeless body. “Elder, something needs to be done,” Da’ar clicked, removing his fingers from her.

Grunting, Bha’ruk turned his glare onto Da’ar and then to Lyra as she lay sprawled on the floor, appearing almost dead. His eyes grew wide then, and he looked down at her torn skirt, revealing her bare nether regions. Bending down, Bha’ruk leaned his head close enough to scent Lyra, and despite seeing her lying in such a manner, a low purr rumbled from his chest upon finding her scent unchanged. ‘Mine…she is still mine, Ji’ran, you worthless maggot.’

“Elder, what are your orders?” Da’ar did his best not to growl at the fool of an elder, gritting his inner teeth with his mandibles closed around them.

“She still lives,” Bha’ruk clicked, looking at the black Yautja.

Inspecting Lyra, Da’ar saw her eyes had closed, so she still had enough life left in her for a little movement. “Barely, but who knows for how much longer?”

“Ta’al! Where the pauk are you?!” The elder roared down the corridor, punching the floor at the same time and leaving a small indent; his concentration, which had been trained solely on Ji’ran, was slowly waning.

Almost as if on command, Ta’al came barreling down the hallway, his hands balled into fists. He couldn’t believe the mess that O’ni’s leg had been in once he got to the warrior, but he was able to patch up the injury. O’ni seemed more concerned about Lyra’s state, growling for the healer to go and help her first. But Ta’al knew he needed to make sure the wound was at least staunched and O’ni was on his feet before moving further down the corridor.

Seeing four figures on the floor, two lying and two kneeling, Ta’al shook his head, speeding up his pounding footsteps. ‘Bad, a very bad sign,’ he thought, spying Lyra lying between Da’ar and Bha’ruk. ‘Calm yourself, Ta’al, you are a healer first and a warrior second. Do what you were trained to do…despite the cause.’

“What’s going on? Is Natra hurt?” Ta’al asked, skidding to a stop and kneeling down at the Natranian’s side. He blinked; he had never seen her look so pale, such a sickly color unlike the usual brightness of her white skin. Automatically, he placed two fingers against her neck just as Da’ar had, feeling the whisper of a pulse and looking at both males. “What happened?”

Growling deeply, Bha’ruk glared at the healer before returning his stare to Lyra’s unmoving body. “I protected what is mine, delivering punishment to the traitor who tried to steal from me.”

“The Elder…fought and killed the Lieutenant in front of her, Healer,” Da’ar explained, glancing at Bha’ruk for any sign that he should stop. Receiving no response, he continued. “After that happened, she just collapsed into her current state.”

Tilting his head to inspect Lyra, Ta’al’s brow scrunched in confusion. “There doesn’t seem to be any mark or wound upon her…” Seeing her slight nudity, Ta’al grasped and pulled her skirt around to cover past her hips, the tear in her skirt now revealing her right thigh.

“No…but I had heard things about Natranians,” Da’ar said, looking at her in deep thought. “Bloodlust seems to have a negative effect upon them, and a violent death…seems to be the culmination of bloodlust.”

“So you believe that because she witnessed the killing…she went into a state of shock out of trauma?”

Da’ar nodded, then looked at Bha’ruk as the elder’s gaze remained on the Natranian. The black Yautja knew he had to get Bha’ruk to focus on the task at hand or the female would die. “What are your orders, Elder?”

“Hnnn?” Bha’ruk lifted his head, staring at Da’ar before facing Ta’al and squaring his shoulders. “Healer, it is your task to take care of the well-being of my females. Do whatever you have to do and save Natra. Now.”

Watching Lyra, Ta’al took in all of what Da’ar had told him about the Natranians, knowing that it was truth rather than overheard rumors. It had to be as Da’ar knew too much to simply state something on a whim. Still, Ta’al wasn’t sure how he could revive Lyra, and he glanced from Bha’ruk to Da’ar and back, finally looking at Ji’ran’s body behind Bha’ruk. “This entire corridor reeks of death, we should move her somewhere else.”

“Do it,” Bha’ruk growled, rising to his full stature before the two males. With his adrenaline gone, his head was slowly clearing after killing the traitor, and he finally really looked at Da’ar. “Why were you here, Da’ar?”

“I informed him of the situation, Elder,” Ta’al intervened, carefully gathering Lyra’s limp form into his arms. “Since you were down in the hangar, I thought it best to order the closest warrior to the scene and get help here sooner. As you can see, this warrior managed to stop the situation before it could escalate further and allow Ji’ran to…force himself on Natra.”

Nodding, Bha’ruk saw the logic in Ta’al’s words, and despite being new to the ship, Da’ar was willing to follow orders. And unlike O’ni, Da’ar had managed to hold off a must-driven warrior; that in and of itself impressed the elder…enough for him to come to a decision. “Da’ar, I place Natra in your care while her guard is…incapacitated. I trust you know what will happen if you so much as look at her incorrectly.”

Da’ar’s stare moved to look at Ji’ran’s broken and bloody body lying behind Bha’ruk. Then, the black Yautja brought his fist to his chest, bowing to the elder. “Yes, Elder, I will ensure her safety until her guard has recovered.”

“See that you do,” Bha’ruk growled, moving down the corridor before stopping and looking back at the healer. “Remember my order, Ta’al. Do whatever it takes to save her.”

“Yes, Elder,” Ta’al nodded, still holding Lyra’s body securely against his as Bha’ruk strode away. With a sigh, he glanced at Da’ar, quietly asking, “What should we do? You know more about her race than I do.”

Looking up at the healer, Da’ar rose to his full height and then turned to examine Ji’ran’s body. “What is the opposite of death? We need to surround her with that in order to cleanse her olfactory system.”

“‘Life’? How could we surround her…wait.” Ta’al blinked then strode down the hall with Da’ar nodding and following behind him.

“I take it the elder does have an arbor?”

Ta’al nodded, making his way to the elevator and stopping to gently hand Lyra over to Da’ar. Pressing in the key code, he moved to take her back but stopped; Lyra appeared so much weaker, and Ta’al frowned deeply, clenching his fists and mumbling, “That fool, why did he have to do this?”

“Which one do you mean, healer?” Da’ar murmured, knowing that there had been two referred to by that term. “The fool or the fool that chose to betray him?”

“Both!” the healer hissed, stomping into the lift as the doors slid open. Ta’al spun around to face the open doors while Da’ar stepped inside, standing next to him; the doors slid shut and the lift slowly rose. “This is precisely what I’m talking about, Da’ar. He thinks of nothing but himself, and who suffers for it? These innocent females suffer for it, that’s who!”

Eying Ta’al carefully, Da’ar inhaled slowly as he held the Natranian in his arms. “You have been through much with them, haven’t you?”

“I am the one they trust…yet I can do nothing to free them,” Ta’al growled, whipping his head to face away from the black Yautja and the Natranian. “Do you realize how…weak I feel because of that? Me, a warrior healer who feels pathetic.”

Da’ar waited in silence as the healer snarled out what he had kept bottled up for as long as this mission had been in play. Two years was a lot to ask of any warrior, let alone one who made his trade in healing. But Da’ar knew those two years were not given in vain because he knew these females trusted Ta’al despite what the healer said to the contrary. That sort of trust was not built over a short time, and without seeing more than just the Cerpantian’s interactions with Ta’al, Da’ar saw their strong faith in the healer.

“Are you going to say nothing?” Ta’al hissed, turning to glare at the black Yautja. He knew his anger was directed at the wrong person, but the frustration had become too much and was crashing through his mouth in a flood.

“That depends, Ta’al. Are you finished?”

The healer gave a curt nod.

“First of all, I have not fully expressed the gratitude that you deserve for all that you have done,” Da’ar stated in a hushed tone, looking directly into Ta’al’s silver eyes. “You’ve done more than just report all that has happened on the Ty’rath-di to me. I know these females trust you with their lives…even moreso than Bha’ruk trusts you. So I will be the first to say that you are anything but pathetic and weak to have endured through this entire ordeal for the duration of time you have.”

Ta’al stared at Da’ar in silence, stunned by the words his ally had spoken; it seemed so unlike the one known as “living Cetanu.” In all the years that Ta’al had known him, Da’ar had usually been a Yautja of few words, and whether that was due to the cold-shouldered response he usually received on clanships or to something else, the healer didn’t know. Perhaps it was just a side that he chose to show as little as possible for Ta’al knew that Da’ar was not completely like the epitome of death, the Black Hunter. “Th…thank you, Da’ar.”

The dark warrior nodded his head, moving his stare to the illuminating elevator levels as they approached their destination.

The lift slowed down to a stop and the doors opened to a large, lush room that filled the entire level from the elevator to the opposite wall. Trees stretched their branches towards the light source at the rounded dome-like ceiling, and lush grasses and plants surrounded the large trunks. The only bare part was a single path that wound in and around among all of the vegetation, used by the cooks in order to retrieve ingredients for meals.

“Where should we take her?” Ta’al asked, looking around the large arbor.

Da’ar quickly scanned the vegetation, spying an area he believed would be good and making his way towards the spot. He edged down to his knees, gently placing Lyra on a soft bed of grass beneath a sturdy tree with a large vine circling around the trunk. Blue blossoms covered the vine, giving off a strong sweet scent, and all around the grass grew white flowers with five distinct petals stretching out. “These are suckle-vines and stars-of-una, two plants from Unatra with the most potent scents.”

“You think they will work?” Ta’al asked, sitting down beside Lyra.

Da’ar sighed deeply, cocking his head to the side as he looked at the female. “If they don’t…I’m not sure what will. I was able to block the sight and most of the sound of Ji’ran’s killing from her, but…I didn’t think about the smell of death.”

“Still I think you helped her since she’s alive.” The healer looked at the surrounding blossoms, reaching over to gently push surrounding stars-of-una closer to Lyra’s face. “That might help a little more.”

Nodding, Da’ar stood and gingerly unwound part of the suckle-vine from around the trunk with large clusters of flowers, laying the vine across her shoulder with the blossoms facing her. He sat next to her on the side opposite Ta’al, watching her face for any sign of improvement. Waiting was a key point in a Yautja’s training and not solely in hunting; in the case of healers, sometimes one had to wait for a warrior’s wound to knit and mend properly or for a poison to run its course through the body. It was a trait that Da’ar had learned long ago, and he maintained constant training each time he came to a familiar clanship.

Da’ar shook his head, pushing memories of the past that tried to resurface to the far recesses of his mind. There was no time to dwell on what could have been or even what he had hoped would happen each time he was summoned by the Council. Right now, focus needed to be on helping the females particularly the one lying before him. ‘May Paya help you now…’

A cold blackness blanketed Lyra’s mind as she huddled against the hard earth beneath her. Gone were the rich green meadows and the calm white clouds that were normally present within the dream realm. Nothing was familiar; all was bare, dry earth tightly packed beneath her quivering form, and she could hardly breath in this place. “Someone…my lord, please…help…help me…”’ she whispered through trembling lips.

Through the darkness, Lyra felt a strong hand gently stroke her hair, and she squinted her eyes open, seeing only the outline of the one who touched her. “My child, I am sorry you had to see this place,” the calm voice of Zakor came to her ears.

“Where…where am I?” she asked, vainly blinking to try and adjust her eyes.

“A place my people are never supposed to experience,” he replied, slipping his arm beneath her side and lifting Lyra’s torso up. “This is the Wasteland, the result of bloodlust and…killing. All of you are a people of life, and because of that I have not prepared you for such an occurrence as a violent death.”

Lyra leaned against Zakor’s arm, still unable to see much in this place yet at the same time glad that she couldn’t. From what her lord said, this was no place to remain…but would she have to? “My lord…am I…dying?”

“You were close, Zakiryn Lyra, but the actions of one saved you,” Zakor stated softly, his breath warm against her face as he spoke. “You will leave this place soon, my child, and what does not kill you will only make you stronger.”

“How? I…I can’t go…through something…like that again,” she stumbled over her words, fear creeping into her voice as she huddled against Zakor. “I can’t…”

His hand lightly cupped around Lyra’s chin, lifting her face to look up into eyes that shone brilliant gold in the darkness. “Remember who you are, Zakiryn Lyra. Be strong as you have always been taught as a Zakiryn.”

Slowly, Lyra nodded and closed her eyes, feeling Zakor’s arm fade beneath her but she didn’t fall back to the ground. Her body felt light almost as though the wind was lifting her up, and when she opened her eyes, she saw white clouds just beyond the dark thundering billows. She also caught the wonderful and welcoming scent of suckle-vines and stars-of-una. “Thank you, my lord.”

Suddenly, the form of the black Yautja appeared before her as Lyra remembered feeling him place his hands against her ears. He had positioned his body in front of her eyes too…all to shield her from what was happening. She heard Zakor’s voice like the roll of distant thunder, and he rumbled, ‘Trust in him, my child…’

Ta’al stood up with a heavy sigh, clicking, “I should go and check on O’ni. I told him to get to the medical level just before I left him, and I need to make sure his leg is properly bandaged.”

Da’ar nodded, glancing up at the healer before returning his eyes to the female on the grassbed. Her pulse had become slightly stronger and she was breathing more evenly, which both Yautja took as a good sign of her recovery. Still they didn’t want to move her until after she had regained consciousness. “I will contact you if she wakes before you return, Healer.”

“Thank you,” Ta’al clicked, heading back towards the elevator and leaving Da’ar alone with the Natranian.

The black Yautja moved to his knees, preparing to rise quickly if the need came; however, knowing that only cooks came to this level, it was doubtful he had much to be concerned about. His training was instinctive enough to make sure he would be able to protect the female, and Da’ar would ensure that no more harm befell her. Amber eyes remained on the sliding doors, flicking to look at the Natranian for a moment before returning to the entrance.

A small sound came from the female along with a deep inhalation of air, and Da’ar faced her fully as he saw her eyelids quivering as though trying to open. Her eyes opened slowly, and the black Yautja found himself staring into violet spheres that gazed at him tiredly yet calmly at the same time. Da’ar cocked his head to the side curiously, wondering why his presence would calm her…unless she remembered who had helped her against Ji’ran.

“Wh…where…?” Lyra rasped, coughing a little as her throat was dry.

Da’ar looked around the arbor, spotting one of the springs that fed the various trees in this section and clicking, “Wait here.” He stood and strode over to the spring, cupping a handful of water into his palm and carefully making his way back to her side to not spill the water. Slowly, he brought his hand to her small mouth, saying, “Drink it slowly.”

Nodding, Lyra lifted her head off the ground, placing her lips against his black hand and sipping at the water. She had to fight her urge to gulp the water that refreshed not only her throat but her mind; seeing the Wasteland bare of anything living had drained her, and having water so near at hand now was such a relief. Backing away to pace herself, Lyra looked up at the black Yautja, asking, “Where are we?”

“The ship’s arbor,” he replied, keeping his voice quiet so as not to cause her any alarm. “The healer has gone to the medical facility, but he’ll return soon.”

“Ta’al was here?” she asked, scenting the area and wincing as the sharp tang of lingering death hit her. Blinking, Lyra tilted her head and finally noticed the suckle-vines lying on her chest and stars-of-una pressed up against her. She slowly took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scents of the flowers, practically savoring them in her nostrils and caught Ta’al’s scent among them. “He pushed…the stars-of-una near me. That means you…”

Da’ar nodded as he looked at the suckle-vine circling her shoulders, the blooming flowers giving off their sweet smell. “The suckle-vines have the strongest scent of Unatra’s flora…”

“How…how did you know?” Lyra tried to sit up, but he placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. “Who are you?”

“I am called ‘Da’ar’, and I’ve been placed as your guard in lieu of your original guard’s absence,” he answered, holding his cupped hand to her mouth again as she drank a little bit more. His eyes flicked to the doors before meeting hers once more. “To answer your former question, I have studied the flora and fauna of many different planets, yours being one of them.”

“Oh…only a study?” Blinking at him, Lyra looked down almost disappointed that it was just probably research that this Yautja, Da’ar, simply recited. Then, she stopped and remembered him blocking her eyes and ears from the act of death before her. “But…you knew…you knew what was happening to me.”

Da’ar raised a brow at her statement, still keeping his eyes locked with hers as she seemed to prod him for answers. Answers he could give…but should he? Her eyes gazed at him expectantly, and he inhaled, slowly releasing the breath. He offered his hand with the water to her and she shook her head, but he looked at his hand pointedly and she gazed at him in confusion until her eyes opened a little wider in understanding.

Lyra nodded, and Da’ar leaned closer to her face, holding the water to her lips as he whispered, “I have made it a point to study the planets of Unatra, Cerpantia, Ahrak, Vulfran, Nimo, and Avari; particularly information about their inhabitants. I felt these were…the most important to study.”

As he spoke to her, Lyra’s eyes grew wider and she felt even more certain that he had said ‘Help you’ in her language. ‘He is here to help us…by Zakor’s horns…but why hasn’t something been done already? There must be some reason why he hasn’t done so already…’

Then, she remembered Ta’al’s words, frowning as she thought, ‘Everything and everyone on this ship is that monster’s…which means all of them obey him.’ Closing her eyes tight, Lyra’s head fell back heavily against the grass, squeezing back the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Are you all right?” Da’ar asked, sitting up a little more, concerned when she suddenly fell back on the ground.

“I’m sorry…my head hurts…that’s all,” she told him, not opening her eyes as she reached up a hand to rub her forehead. Lyra stopped and opened her eyes, facing Da’ar as he looked at her with steady amber eyes. “Forgive me…I’ve been rude in not telling you my name, Da’ar. I’m…”

“‘Natra’, yes?”

“That’s not my real name.”

“I had gathered.” He shook his head slightly, thinking, ‘Only that fool of an elder would bestow such a patronizing name on her.’

Lyra blinked at him almost in surprise, then a small smile appeared on her lips; his tone seemed to say what she thought about the name as well, namely a poor and uninspired choice. Slowly, she moved the vine behind her and sat up, not stopping even after he placed his dry hand on her shoulder to prevent her from rising further, and she leaned closer to Da’ar, saying barely above a whisper, “‘Lyra’…that is my name.”

The black Yautja stared at her, his eyes never leaving hers as she gazed at him with such a calm, trusting expression. Da’ar wondered if she would still feel that same calm around him had he not saved her from Ji’ran. However, what was done was done and events had led to him being able to speak somewhat freely with her. Moving his eyes away a little, Da’ar said, “I have to notify Ta’al of your change in condition…Lyra.”

Instantly, the doors slid open and Da’ar whirled around, his hand on the hilt of one blade strapped to his thigh ready to remove it. He saw Ta’al’s blue form enter the arbor and relaxed, removing his hand from the blade. Turning to check on Lyra, he was surprised to see her hand clenched around a dead limb as she stared intently in the direction he had been looking, ready to strike with the makeshift weapon. Again, she showed behavior that was unlike other female Natranians who would sooner run than fight an opponent; it was puzzling to Da’ar, but he only shook his head at her. “It is the healer.”

“I see…” Lyra said calmly, releasing the limb from her grasp and lying back along the grass. When she saw Da’ar raise a brow at her, she smiled. “Knowing Ta’al, he would advise I remain lying down now.”

“As you should be after what happened to you, Natra,” Ta’al growled in slight annoyance at seeing her lie back quickly when she should have remained stationary. Then, he turned his stare on Da’ar, saying, “I thought you were going to notify me when her condition changed.”

Before Da’ar could respond, Lyra spoke up in his defense. “It was my fault, Ta’al. I was thirsty after waking…and Da’ar brought me some water. Please, don’t be cross with him.”

Ta’al raised a surprised brow at her words, glancing at Da’ar who merely met his eyes with a calm stare. Shaking his head, the healer knelt next to Lyra, placing a hand along her neck to check her pulse, asking, “How are you feeling, Natra?”

“I feel fine now…still a little weak but I think I can stand if that’s all right,” she replied, watching the healer’s face for any sign of disapproval to this idea.

“Well, I’m not sure if you want to walk back to the medical level on your own, but if you feel you can rise on your own, do so.” Ta’al nodded to her, standing back to allow her some space without being out of range in case she needed assistance.

Slowly, Lyra sat up once more, and she watched Da’ar stand up next to her, his eyes flicking between her and the doors. Placing her hands to either side of her hips, she pushed herself up to a crouched position, then carefully rose to a stand. Her legs felt odd, almost as if they weren’t really her legs, and both started quivering beneath her before buckling. Falling, she cried out and grunted as Da’ar’s arm caught her, and she looked up at him gratefully. “I guess I can’t stand yet…”

“I thought this might happen, but you felt the need to try, Natra,” the healer said, shaking his head and tapping a claw against his mandibles. “We’ll have to carry you otherwise it will take awhile to get you to the medical level.”

Sighing heavily, Lyra nodded and then gasped in surprise as Da’ar lifted her into his arms. She stared at him for a moment, but he merely moved towards the doors with Ta’al striding just behind them. The two Yautja were silent as they left the arbor, and Lyra still felt weary from her ordeal as her eyelids started growing heavy. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on Da’ar’s shoulder as her fatigue gave over to sleep.

As he walked next to Da’ar, Ta’al saw Lyra’s sleeping face lying against the warrior’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, saying, “This might be one of the only times she will sleep peacefully.”

Da’ar glanced at the healer then looked at her face as she slept so easily now, but he turned away as images of Bha’ruk ripping into Ji’ran came to his mind. ‘If that is what he does to a traitor when enraged, I don’t want to think about what he might do to her.’ Even as he thought this, he looked at Ta’al, recalling several messages in which the healer had to work fast to help staunch the wounds on one of the other females. ‘May Paya watch over you, Lyra…at least when I cannot.’

TBC

A/N: Wow, I’m so happy to have another chapter up so quickly. I just wanted to thank all my readers, especially: prairiefire, you and me both and I hope they keep flowing; shortest_warrior, we’ll just have to see won’t we?; bloodravyn, if you read this chapter you know the answer to that question :); Death God Dist, many thanks and it’s not that Natranians ‘will’ die but that they ‘could’ die if they witnessed a scene of complete bloodlust; firefly, thank you so much and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter too.