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he Losh-Oc are evil creatures.
They came a long time ago, as the snow was thawing, to this place and burned
all, put all to blade, attacking first and cruellest the women and children,
taking them away before our warriors could fight back. They ran into the night,
dragging their prisoners behind like an Argrothin bear its prey, running to the
forest to devour it in private.
Beautiful Ewyn’ine was among the prisoners, young daughter of the strongest
warrior of the tribe, Lor’ine. The Losh-Oc saw her beauty and her pride, and
thought thus: “She, surely, is the greatest treasure of our enemy. She, surely,
will bring them running if they hear her screams. She, then, will bait the
clever trap that we will lay for the menfolk.” Ewyn’ine, then, was chosen. The
other prisoners cut down like sheep slaughtered. We remember them here.
Ewyn’ine wept to see such cruelty, and was filled with fear at what her captors
must have planned for her. They tied her hands behind her, and covered her eyes
with a hood of animal hide, and they attached a rope to her neck, to lead her
stumbling through the forest like a blind, frightened animal. She was frightened
indeed, and wished that they would reach where they were taken to, so that she
could only know her fate, and meet her end at last, instead of this terrible
darkened journey. It seemed forever that she was led like a lame horse through
the forest, and all she could hear was the mutterings of the hateful Losh-Oc.
They argued, it seemed, bickered and nagged at each other in their barbaric
snarling language, and a tentative hope flowered in Ewyn’ine’s heart. Were they
anxious because they were pursued? Certainly, they seemed to move ever faster,
and though Ewyn’ine was near exhausted by the relentless march that dragged her
through the darkness, she clung to the hope that they were pursued, that her
father and all the other men were chasing her, would rescue her soon and kill
every one of the murdering Losh-Oc.
Her hope soon vanished as she was pulled to a halt, dragged roughly to a tree,
and heard the rope knotted round the trunk. She felt the sickening, rotted-meat
smell of orc breath as one of her captors pulled at her hair, forcing her to
bend so that he might speak directly to her face. The hood was roughly pulled
away, and she saw his yellow eyes, she smelt his awful breath, and heard him
speak one word; “Vubuaz”, before they left her, alone in this silent clearing.
She shuddered with a sudden cold fear, knowing suddenly what the Losh-Oc planned
for her. She was tied only peds away from a great, ancient nest of Vubuaz, the
Aek’ash whose sting brings unbearable pain. When the sun rose they would waken,
and descend on her with their fierce stings, so that her screams would bring the
men running, and they too would be attacked, fall in helpless agony, where they
could be butchered by the Losh-Oc as easily as a litter of newborn piglets, or
perhaps just left to die in the cold of the early spring. Losh-Oc are cruel but
not stupid. They would rather watch from a distance as their enemies faded away,
than risk Aek’ash stings themselves by going too close.
It was yet three hours until daybreak, yet try as she might, she could not
loosen her bonds. She sank to the ground in desperate prayer to Lier’tyan, and
lost herself for a time in grief; for herself, for the women and children
already slain by the Losh-Oc, and for the men who would soon die by her screams.
It seemed an age she lay weeping in silence, but there came suddenly upon her a
realisation – both that it was light, at last, and that her low sobs were not
the only sound in the clearing. She shuddered, not daring to look up, as she
realised she had been hearing for some time the dreadful growling buzzing song
of the Aek’ash. She dared not look up, for it seemed so loud it must be that
they hovered close above her – she lay still and barely daring breathe, frozen
by the awful terror of suspense, until she found herself only wishing they might
strike, and end the agony of her waiting with the real agony of their stings.
She looked up, into the face of her death.
It looked back down at her, and it was not the face of many small insects, but
the face of a man. It shimmered and buzzed, sculpted from a great swarm of
Aek’ash, yet it did not strike, did not seem in any way to be the bringer of
death she expected. For a long moment she stared up at the blank face that
shimmered before her in pearl and gold flash of wing and stinger. It was a
swarm, but not a swarm, more as if the Aek’ash had poured themselves into the
shape of a man, and taken on his mind and soul as well, for it did not strike
but simply looked on her, without eyes, seeming by the slow tilt of its head, by
the hesitant set of its buzzing shoulders and shimmering hands, to be watching
her with a certain wonder. It watched her and she watched it back, for many
minutes, before it moved – tried to reach out its hand towards her, drew back,
almost as if scared, when she flinched at this movement. It stood up, suddenly,
waved its insubstantial arms at her, as if to show her she could leave, the
buzzing of its many wings rising and falling with every movement.
But Ewyn’ine could not leave – she was tied to the tree still, her hands bound
behind her. She could but watch in uncomprehending wonder as the man of Aek’ash
gestured towards her, then away, towards the safety of the forest’s edge, of her
distant home. “I cannot go! I am tied here, a sacrifice for you to consume!” she
cried, not expecting the creature to understand her. Yet it did, for it went
quite still, suddenly, watching her again, as if astonished by this news. Again
it approached her, but this time it inspected the ropes that bound her, reaching
down almost to touch them, before withdrawing the hands made from buzzing,
venomous Aek’ash. It could not touch the ropes to untie them, it seemed, nor to
break them. Watching the strange man-shaped swarm, Ewyn’ine thought that to
touch it would surely be to break the spell that held it together, and thus to
unleash the Aek’ash with their fierce stings. This was a gentle creature, she
thought, made out of many small vicious ones. It was, she thought, very
beautiful, shimmering as golden as her own hair, lighter than air, graceful as
grass that ripples in the wind. She wished she could talk to it more, even if it
could not reply, even if she could not be sure it understood, but suddenly it
turned its faceless head, towards some sound, and was gone, half drifting, half
running through the forest, away in the direction the Losh-Oc had gone.
Ewyn’ine did not have long to wonder after its sudden departure, for she soon
heard the same sound the Aek’ash man had, and her heart lifted in sudden, wild
joy – the tramping of feet, the shouting of men talking to each other in her own
tongue! She cried out to her father, and familiar voices answered, came running
and cut her fetters, carried her to the arms of Lor’ine so that they could
embrace, be sure and thankful of each other’s safety. It was only now, though,
that the men saw the great swollen Aek’ash nest, and began to back away
hurriedly, for fear of the terrible stings. It took all of Ewyn’ine’s patience
and persistence to explain to them that the Aek’ash themselves were gone. She
tried to tell them her story, but as she did not understand what had happened,
how could she expect the others to? Her father took her back to the village,
whilst the other warriors continued their pursuit of the Losh-Oc, hungry for
vengeance.
Work had barely begun in repairing the orc-wrought damage when the warriors
returned, wearing expressions of wonder and amazement. Lor’ine greeted them,
asking “why do you return so quickly?”
Most were silent, but one answered “we found the hateful Losh-Oc barely three
hours further on from where Ewyn’ine was tied.”
Lor’ine smiled at this news, and asked eagerly “you battled, then? I see none
missing from your number, none wounded – you bested them?”
Again, the one answered, seeming hesitant in his words, as if not sure whether
what he spoke were the truth; “it was no battle – they begged for death – even
in their barbarous tongue we could well understand their piteous pleas. They
writhed like worms, their foul skin pockmarked all over with a thousand welts...
welts just such as those left by Aek’ash stings, though they were near no nest,
and no Aek’ash were in sight. We butchered them as they asked, and returned. Our
Ewyn’ine spoke the truth, I think. Some vengeful creature hunted down those
orcs, and left on them the marks of Aek’ash. I know not what to think but that
she spoke truth.”
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