Taghna hastened to spread Ergatul's message to all the Muïréal. She didn't have much to do. No sooner had she told a handful of villagers that exiles were approaching that she could hear murmurs rushing through the cave at the speed of the wind, passing from one group of villagers to another to relay the latest news.
In no time at all, the sleeping village found itself restless like an ant hill. Some were busy putting away things that were lying around, others were gathering the children to take them to a room at the back of the cave, and still others were getting ready to go out to accompany Ergatul. True to form, the dean had decided to welcome the new arrivals regardless of the circumstances of their arrival.
This restlessness mixed with enthusiasm was opposite to Taghna's feelings. She couldn't help but feel a deep and dull anxiety. She could not understand where these exiles were coming from. The first signs of the Hir were being felt and, compared to Séaroën or the other villages, it was far too late for the people who had decided to become exiled to leave their tribe at that time.
Was it possible that it was the elders of some village, or even of Séaroën, who sacrificed themselves before the Hir to leave as much food as possible for the rest of the inhabitants? Taghna would have liked to convince herself of such a possibility, but she hardly believed it. If Dannaï and Séabanh had wanted to go into exile, they would have done so after sealing the houses with a solid wall during the first snows. This would have given them all the time they needed to help with the harvests. But it was still some time away before the temperatures dropped as much as the first snow.
Taghna would have wanted to isolate herself. On the one hand, she wanted to be able to think calmly to understand where the exiles could come from, and on the other hand, she wanted to meditate to glean as much information about them. But the bustle and noise in the cave prevented her from keeping her concentration.
Slavan and Pertuil came out of a cell. Taghna was surprised that Slavan still hadn't chosen to take a room alone with his partner, since it was now clear that they were a couple pretty much like the Abtui were doing. The two of them were getting ready to put on their fur jackets. Obviously, they wanted to join Ergatul.
Putting aside her grudge, Taghna approached them:
- Hello, Slavan.
- Hello Taghna. So, another durséar is coming? It's a good thing, we need as many arms as possible! Slavan replied cheerfully.
- Maybe you're right. Something worries me though. Can't you feel it?
- No, I don't feel anything. How can you be so suspicious...
- If I'm suspicious, there's a reason, she said reproachfully.
- If you say so..., he answered without conviction. I'll go help the others. Pertuil, let's go!
They left hand in hand. Taghna would have wanted to object but she didn't have the head for an argument. Besides, all the villagers seemed to have put their differences aside. All the people worked together and exchanged courteous and cheerful phrases.
Not far from the entrance, Ergatul gathered those who wanted to welcome the new stranger. While he waited for everyone to be ready, Taghna only had eyes for the rock at the entrance of the cave. She would have wanted to close the access tunnel and wait for the exiled to pass on their way and never be seen again.
She was getting anxious without knowing why. Watching the Muïréal so relaxed, Taghna decided to ignore her impressions. After all, Slavan might be right: she must have been too suspicious. So she put aside her desire to convince the villagers to arm themselves and prepare for the worst and went out.
Outside, a cold wind was blowing. The congregation stood close together, their enthusiasm intact despite the large, low and grey clouds floating in the sky. Ergatul had turned his gaze in one direction. He looked worried. Taghna joined him:
- Ergatul, is something wrong?
- How shall I put it... I can see them. It's a whole group approaching.
- Isn't he alone? How can you see them, by the way, are you sure?
- I told you that the earth has given me certain abilities...
Taghna agreed silently and observed the surroundings in search of the group. Not noticing anything unusual in the movement of the tall grass, she lost patience and asked:
- Don't you think it would be better to go back? I don't think it's a good idea to wait...
- Come on Taghna, who would want to hurt us? I promised myself that I would help anyone who crossed our path. They shouldn't be long now.
Taghna didn't protest because she heard a distant roar. She looked up to the sky but saw nothing that would tell her where the noise came from. Yet it was there, and a moment later, the Muïréal heard the strange roar as well. Never having encountered such a humming sound, their good mood gradually gave way to anxiety.
The noise was getting closer. Taghna was expecting a large bee to emerge from the clouds, but only the hum was getting louder and nothing could be seen. The noise became so powerful that the Muïréal blocked their ears and looked up in fear.
As the noise turned into a deafening siund, a black elongated shape, actually resembling a gigantic bee, came out from the clouds. It descended from the sky towards the village, causing panic among the Muïréal, who were shouting in fear and waving in all directions.
Only Ergatul resisted, motionless and as upright as his old body would allow, staring at the bee which was approaching dangerously fast. Around the dean, the air was laden with dust in violent gusts of wind. Ergatul's furs were flowing, revealing the thinness of his body and the whiteness of his arms, making him look tiny and insignificant in the face of the oversized insect.
The bee landed delicately on the dune opposite the one at the entrance to the village. The buzzing ceased immediately. Only the murmurs of fear of the Muïréal remained. The insect stood straight ahead, its top pointing ominously towards the sky.
Taghna was able to detail the flying thing more carefully. At first, she thought it was a bee, but she noticed that the insect had in fact a smooth carapace without legs, wings and antennae. It actually looked like a chrysalis with smooth, pure and elegant curves.
Its size was nothing like anything Taghna had ever encountered before. Even the height of the oldest séarach was a pale comparison to the mysterious insect. Standing not far from the Muïréal, its mass obscured the sun's brilliance and bathed them in an scary darkness.
Smoke escaped from the chrysalis, enveloping it in a mysterious mist and masking the details of its hull. Then the insect's prominent belly opened. Taghna thought for a moment that the insect was wounded, and she almost expected to see a yellowish liquid bursting from its abdomen. Instead, a group of... what, exactly, Taghna would have had a hard time telling.
The creatures that emerged had everything of a human form: a round head, a pair of arms attached to a trunk, and two legs on which they moved. However, where skin or fur should have been, they were covered with a kind of blue-grey shell showing an iridescent sheen. Only the carapace of one member of the group was blood red.
The group moved forward at a steady pace until they came close to the Muïréal. The villagers were too stunned to make the slightest move. Ergatul, fearless or brave, Taghna could not tell because she herself felt the anguish overwhelming her, stepped towards the strange creatures and began to say welcoming words.
The dean listed one by one all the languages of the villages he knew, sometimes joining the phrases with appropriate gestures of respect, in the hope of finding a common language with these exiles from the skies.
One of the members of the group walked towards Ergatul with determined steps. He showed no sign of wanting to stop. As Taghna was about to intervene, the foreigner continued on his way without even looking at the dean. Disconcerted by this behaviour, Ergatul interrupted his welcoming ceremony.
The stranger continued to wander among the motionless assembly of villagers, visibly looking for something. Taghna's heart was pounding. She didn't know anything about the nature of these creatures that had just emerged from a giant chrysalis, but her instinct was to run away.
After a while, the creature retraced its steps, joined its group and made a sound that sounded like a human voice. The red-shelled creature answered and raised its hand towards Ergatul. Then a deafening CRAC! ripped the air, a tongue of fire came out of the end of its arm and pierced Ergatul from side to side. The dean of the Muïréal collapsed to the ground, a gaping hole in his chest.
A stony silence fell on the plain just before total panic took hold of the Muïréal. Some rushed to Ergatul to help him, others stayed behind, unable to understand what was happening, while others screamed and ran to the cave for refuge.
The creatures began spitting fire at the disorganized villagers, deliberately choosing those who had been unfortunate enough to want to help Ergatul. The men and women who had had the misfortune to head in his direction fell one after the other.
Taghna acted in a blink of an eye and leapt towards one of the creatures within her reach. The attacker spotted Taghna's sudden movement, turned around and threw a fireball at the young woman. She was jerked backwards and rolled to the ground. Breathless and dazed, Taghna found herself in the middle of a scene of chaos.
The screams came muffled but she could see her companions running for their lives. Struck by the dazzling attacks of the strangers, the Muïréal had no way to resist. In fact, none of them were thinking of even defending themselves or counterattacking. They were completely overwhelmed.
Taghna saw her bratair rushing towards her. Slavan's frightened look was riveted on Taghna's eyes. His face seemed to be begging for help. She wanted to tell him to go to the cave, to make him understand that he shouldn't stay there, but her voice remained silent. As her chest had not finished restoring itself thanks to the uisgaïr. As Slavan continued his frantic race, Taghna tried to get up. A blinding flash of lightning hit Slavan on the flank, who fell on the ground.
Slavan's fall gave a surge of energy to Taghna, who jumped on her feet despite her injury. Slavan's face, covered with dust and blood, frozen in a mask of terror, unleashed a wave of dense black hatred in her chest.
Anger kept growing, blurring her senses and judgment. The last time she had yielded to rage, she had almost killed Asgeül, and it was only just in time that she had stopped. This time she had no need to control herself. On the contrary. She wanted to kill, snatch, break, and shatter those threatening the Muïréal.
A destructive impulse invaded Taghna's body, spread to her fingertips, and submerged her completely.
Taghna rushed at an enemy. Her strength, enhanced by Lorgá's gifts, was further amplified by her anger. She moved with lightning speed and aimed at the creature's head. She struck a blow of terrible violence on the carapace, which shattered by the force of the strike.
If Taghna had been fully aware of what she was doing, she would have stopped there, stunned, for a face identical in every way to that of a normal-looking man revealed itself beneath the mask. Two black eyes stared at her, visibly astonished. Only her skin, dark as the bark of a séarach, was different from that of the villagers.
But Taghna was no longer able to control her gestures. She was no longer able to ask herself why a man from the sky was attacking her friends. Her anger had taken control of her body and her limbs, driven by her desire for destruction.
Taghna's hand grabbed the man's exposed throat and, with a quick move of the wrist, crushed his windpipe. Unstoppable, Taghna continued her deathly dance. She pounced on her new prey with powerful and agile jump. Her enemy didn't expect such an attack for Taghna landed on the attacker's chest with all her weight, and he crashed heavily to the ground.
Taghna did not care whether the man was in any condition to get up again. She rolled nimbly to get up and continued her fierce fight, swirling, hitting, crushing the enemies that passed within her reach, as light as the wind. The outsiders did not seem to realize the threat she had become, for they continued to hurl lightning at the Muïréal.
Taghna had arrived close to the man in the red shell. He had stayed a little away from the battle, motionless, simply observing the scene. Taghna saw him as her next target and ran towards him.
As she was about to grab his head, the man reacted with extreme speed and dodged the attack with a step to the side. Taghna heard a brief command, and the next moment, by mutual agreement, the assailants began to spit their fire at Taghna.
Engulfed by the flames, the young woman cried out in pain and fell to her knees. She protected herself as best she could from the flames by raising her arms, but the attacks came from all sides.
The pain was unbearable. Taghna could feel her skin roasting and cracking under the fire. The uisgaïr of Lorgá protected her, regenerated her wounds, but the intensity of the heat was such that Taghna's body could only give way at any moment.
At the last moment, the attack ceased. Taghna, drunk with pain and driven only by the desire to kill, took advantage of the opening. She took a quick breath, the smell of burning flesh invaded her nostrils, and got up. Ignoring the pieces of flesh that were falling from her limbs, she rushed to the man in red.
As she wanted to hit him, the man retaliated by hitting Taghna's wrist with his elbow. Taghna's fingers broke like twigs, and before she could make a move, the man put the palm of his hand against her forehead. The gesture had been so quick and precise, yet so delicate, that Tagha fell unconscious without even realizing it.
*****
Taghna opened her eyes. She saw the sky partly hidden under the dense foliage of trees. Remembering the battle against the enemies from the sky, she rolled over and took up a defensive position, ready to dodge the next attack. These precautions were not necessary; she had returned to Séaroën.
Imposing séarach rose up around the clearing of the village and sheltered the dwellings with their solid branches. The powerful scent of the guardian trees perfumed the air and a serenity enveloped Taghna. She felt that she had finally returned home.
Around her, the villagers were busy with their daily activities. Taghna saw Séabanh and Dannaï coming out of the mataïg chatting away. Roséan, as always leaning on his beautiful spear, was discussing with Mariach and Vorn. Ranye and Branach were standing there, carving out quarters of a deer ready to be smoked in the mataïg. Séacas grumbled as he spun a large spoon in a pot from which a tempting aroma was released. There was also Maoïr, accompanied by Færn, teaching a whole group of children Taghna had never seen before.
Taghna was so happy. She forgot the anger, the violence and the suffering of the Muïréal. She put aside her doubts and fears and the hardships she had gone through. Nothing mattered any more than the present moment.
All the resentment and bitterness that had inhabited her had left her. She no longer had any reason to take revenge on her own people or to prove her point so stubbornly. She felt at peace. She understood that belonging to a close-knit community, despite differences of character and opinion, was more important than anything else.
She was about to join Færn. She had so much to tell him since she had left. She wanted to go to her friend when something in the village was different. She looked for clues, observed the villagers...
How strange. How could Ranié and Branach be there? They haddied during the stroïgil. And where did that burning peat smell come from? The thick, pungent smell seized at the throat and drove away the fresh, bitter smell of the séarach.
The more Taghna let the smoke wash over her, the more her village seemed to become unreal, like part of a dream. Taghna wanted to call Færn, but he ignored her, and continued the lesson as if she did not exist. Taghna tried to figure out what was going on, but a rasping rattle came out of her throat and completely shattered her dream.
It was dark. Taghna wanted to make a gesture, but her body no longer belonged to her. Her heels were rubbing against a rough surface. A firm grip was pulling on her arms. Taghna opened her eyes with difficulty and discovered a vision of horror. The dune that protected the Muïréal's cave from the Hir and the elements was on fire. The tall grass was burning in a gloomy red glow. The blaze was so high that it seemed to lick the clouds.
Taghna didn't know which was worse: the fact that her return to Séaroën was only a dream or that the village of the Muïréal was burning. She moaned weakly, still unable to make the slightest gesture, drained of her strength. She was content to stare at the image of despair that getting further away.
Taghna didn't realize she was being led inside the flying chrysalis. She didn't try to put into words the strange things now surrounding her, such as the different coloured lights flashing like fireflies, the unknown shapes and materials that made up the inside of the chrysalis.
Nor did she feel it when, as she reached the heart of the chrysalis, she was placed in a box with transparent edges, nor when two long threads were planted in her arms. She did not react when a strong shaking pushed her hard against the bottom of the box, for before her eyes the images of the flames that were spreading over the Great Plains and the bodies of her friends lying on the ground passed in a never-ending loop.
Finally, an intense pain at the base of her skull brought her out of her torpor. A burning liquid was seeping into her head and penetrating her flesh. The images of the Muïréal disappeared, giving way to indistinct white flashes.
The pain finally subsided, but Taghna didn't have time to catch her breath that she was already overwhelmed with images, sensations and knowledge that surfaced on her mind without her ever seeing or hearing them from everyone she had met in her life.
The liquid she had just been injected contained new information that now seemed familiar. This knowledge flooded into Taghna's mind and transformed her view of life, her world and everything she thought she knew.
Numbers, curves, and formulas filled her thoughts. She understood that she had been born on a planet that was spherical in shape. She realized not only that the sun that had illuminated and heated this planet was a star, but that there were billions of other stars in the universe, and that this universe had its own laws with which she was quickly becoming familiar.
Space-time, sidereal map, planetary mass, quantum mechanics, curvature of space, carbon alloy... These new words rewrote the way she had understood the world and how it worked.
All this was happening too fast for Taghna to consciously understand what was happening to her, especially since the pain was coming back in waves, throbbing, each recession bringing a new batch of knowledge. But as this information filled Taghna's head, she refused to dive into it.
All she wanted to do was to help the Muïréal who were lying a few miles down the road, in the Great Plains of Verglosas, also called NGX 34502 on the Empire's sidereal maps.
Taghna would have wanted to get out of this chamber to tear these machines to pieces, to kill these men who had come from space to destroy her life. But her muscles didn't respond to nerve impulses from her cortex.
Her body was already belonging to somebody else.
Unable to move, she only hoped that the people of her home village had not had to experience such events, that they were still alive, and that the nightmare in which she was caught would end so that she could join them.
Her village... what was the name of her village again? Taghna searched, digging through her memories. She had the name on the tip of her tongue, but she could just as easily have made it up: the name of her birthplace had disappeared from her memory. With a whiff of anguish, she wanted to conjure up other memories, to make sure that they hadn't disappeared too.
With difficulty she managed to recover an image of her forest: the first delicate leaves of the séarach when they turning green and slightly yellow. Yet already the smell of her guardian trees had disappeared, and with it Maoïr's words from one of his first lessons: "Remember this taste well, children, and you will never forget where you come from."
Taghna's old companions were the next memory to fade. Their faces took on the appearance of a smooth, featureless mask. Even their contours gradually blurred before disappearing completely.
Taghna no longer controlled the flow of her thoughts. Everything was getting mixed up in her head. Past and present became one. She struggled to hold on to her memories, but they slipped away like water slipping through her fingers.
The dwellings that had seen her birth now seemed to be located in one single cave. It seemed to her that she was mistaken, that this image was wrong, but she was unable to find the context that would have allowed her to put her thoughts in order. In fact, she was no longer thinking about her village.
She had forgotten the very notion of home.
Her recollections were interspersed with snippets of conversations she heard around her:
- Mission... NGX 34502...
- The old man will be useful to us...
- How could he have eluded us for so long?
- Gaverius...
- The little bitch, she almost suffocated me...
- Yeah, then again, it's not a PV.
Taghna was losing the ability to think for herself, slipping into unconsciousness. The remaining images from her past, which had been so vivid, became gray, flat, cut off from her affects. "You don't fly a MAREA-class ship with feelings," said a voice that came from one of those memories that didn't belong to her, that had been implanted in her without her knowledge.
It now seemed to her that her own memories had been scrolling through a holo and that she hadn't lived them, experienced them with her flesh. Inexorably, they eventually disappeared and her fall into nothingness continued. Taghna refused to give in to the sleep of her mind because she knew somehow that what she had been, and those she had known, would be completely erased from her neurons.
Yet, in the face of a lost struggle, as the anguish of knowing that her most precious possessions were taken away, the idea of falling asleep became more and more appealing.
Færn's face, so dear to her, imprinted itself on her mind. Taghna apologized one last time for not being able to protect him, for not being able to stay by his side. Færn smiled at her, and his kind eyes told her how much he loved her. Taghna lost herself in his friend's gaze and her anguish finally subsided.
Then Færn disappeared as well.
Taghna was beaten. She now knew she was a prisoner of a people who had the power of life and death over her. Worse, that her birth was only due to these people who came to recover the fruit of their labor : a specimen most useful to their purposes, that was compatible with their technology.
Taghna let go.
As her mind fell asleep, caught in the mists of unconsciousness, the mnemonic and cellular nanites, having almost completed their work of genetic rewriting and training in the next functions of her body, devoured the last remaining image of Taghna's first life: the beautiful blue expanse of clear sky above her head and the coolness of the wind on her face on her first outing at the end of Hir.
Thus end Taghna's adventures.